Boring Life

Hello all,

Life is pretty boring lately. Today I watched my cousin's baby, James. He's a cutie. Other than that it's been reading and writing. Actually, I'm going through all my poetry document files and pulling out ones to fix. It's quite a task. Right now I'm supposed to be doing that. I'm sitting here with Matthew and John (Matthew's friend from work) and listening to David Bowie, David Live. It's an older album. In general, I'm just hanging around until I find out about graduate school. But anyway, here's a poem. It's an older one that was published in Dream Fantasy International. Although I never saw the journal. Hmmm...

Dreaming the Death

Father dies as I descend
the last set of stairs. Antique, black

scissors plunge through
his heart, I saw the blood,

the darkness of impossible
roses seep the blinding white of

his serious shirt. A pale
buttoned, unbuttoned everyday

for thirty years. His cotton army
hangs in the closet, white after white.

Father, you know
I’m left here

with a report, a file in my
hand. Feel the smooth

dead of the fiber.
A tree has fallen.

There is work to do before
they return. I cover you,

the mess of roses
spreads to the chair.

The sun is setting behind your
death. Tomorrow

they will replace the chair.