Friday, February 3, 2017

Memory on my iphone

(R. minus many months.)

My iphone memory is a time warp.
For example, it keeps remembering your name
even though I have deleted you
a thousand times,
as if it knows
there is only one thing I can remember
to forget

So I will need to delete again tomorrow
the balcony, my lips, your lips,
Oakland's sunset burning
centimeters from your fingertips.


Teach me how to not despair

(for my children. for r and his.)

Teach me how to not despair.
Remind me again
that life is a series of mathematical
and all I have to do is find y.

I already have paper and pen.
I can
turn numbers into stories
stories into actions
actions into hope
hope to love
and live

Sit with me,
in the high noon glare,
our bodies warm from sun heated rocks
beneath, watch me unravel the mystery of an equation,
with child-sized amazement duplicating,
quadruplicating, octuplicating, doubling
into the distances of my imagination.

And when I cannot find my way,
teach me to trust
that inside each problem
already is the answer
I seek.