old friends part 1

December 6, 2010 § Leave a comment

thinking of old old friends.

this was written shortly after Don’s death, in 1990, wow

Coming to Grips:
A Poem in three movements

The earth, laid out to rest more tangent to the sun, is cold
a morning mountain wind–crisp–blows the sky clear
there are sundogs

startled, a doe vanishes in the brush, the sound rises in the pine air I feel your heart roaring next to mine beating like a darting bird, your hand is gloved, my neck no longer bare, still I feel your body close on mine, warm changing, the lake is frozen; how brief is a lifetime, I never knew. Oh,
that I might tell you of summer’s love.

Don Kreuter––1951-1990–– ahab to my jezebel,

it’s perverse I think, your waiting until the last minute, I remember–as an afterthought–you never during your life let me push you around there’s no reason to imagine a say in your dying. I knew you once so well now there’s not a trace of comfort.

I keep notes, scripting your death as something to learn, my conceit embarrasses me, the language of dying is not one I know.

Sequestered I stand vigil waiting now for the eclipse,
not knowing where life and death transect the chance was forfeit. I had
no idea how to address you, loving you was one thing–

and as if the damned blue moon was a stage play, you died


some friendships are of the first order spirits kindred palpable others not so apparent caution never thrown to the winds and the words tumble out

…it’s been such a long time Jesus! I’m glad I met you is what I meant to say
the other, the woman, was sultry like a damp hot wind a reluctant confederate

it’s not that he was immediately sainted because he was dying or that coming to grips with mortality I extended–without limit– diaphanous regard no I came headlong against reality I am not as I wished

there is little time for mistakes less for self-indulgence

I suffer the breach–a vast meaninglessness–obscure it with offerings but there’s no relief, it calls simply for abiding
extending myself as I am now

face to face with love we call it friendship to avert any risk but it is passion not mishap

choices already made it’s in the public domain without forfeiture, but when I say friends it is to consort that I mean

Jeez, it ain’t so complicated she’d just say, we still
got that motherly thing, right joo D?

some work the fabric
some weave spells, looking for grand meaning you turned my heart inside out–familiarity is all it is


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