When my father died, the world broke into blossom.
When my girlfriend died, beauty ran rampant.
When my guitar died, all the rivers sang.
When my cat died, leaves turned into lizards every midnight.
When my best friend died, I loved the faces
of strangers on the street.
When my god died, I made friends among the mortal.
When my lawyer died, I loved my neighbor.
When my country burned, I found silence and childhood.
When my forest fell, the dome lay down on the sphere.
A massive blanket enwrapped me.
When eternity disintegrated, the clock stopped.
When lovemaking was no longer possible, memory began.
When my mother died, I had eyes again.
1 comment:
Betti--
It's interesting that in writing my article ('Hoover and the Mystery...') a couple of days after I wrote this poem, I made explicit a situation in which that line would come true:
"Even if I live to be eighty and desire abates due to age, or I become impotent for some other reason, I will be struck with wonder by the memory of that desire."
Of course, anyone who's had a good roll in the hay and then lost the roller involved will also glimpse a different meaning for that line.
Peace and mischief,
LukeB
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