Whispers in the Wind

Song of Myself or Whispers in the Wind

Begun May 5 2006

This morning there were whispers in the wind

I dreamed of the many pasts of my life and

Wondered about my justifications for the decisions that I made.

This morning I sit under the overcast May rain and

Wander in and out of literature in hopes

Of finding some Whitman in my soul.

My darkness is still within me

But the tiny round pill

Stands to block access to it

Yet its dread weight summons

Me like a black hole eats the

Light of stars.

I watch the cat wash himself in the sunlight of morning

Methodical and prissy, his movements are so

Much like a woman who stretches out a leg to

Shave, I rub the night’s growth with a sigh

Yorick sleeps in the morning heat

On a quilt made by still yet American hands

And I realize that I love him as a cat

And my sole companion.

In the silence of morning

I choke up the remains of sleep

And wish that I could breathe like I did

When I was younger than the age of my days

Sadness comes creeping up my stairs

And slips into my joints as I struggle to

See the light of another overcast day.

37 years later and what have I learned?

I learned that I could live alone

But always yearn for the elusive love

Dreaming of kisses and brown hair

Touching the small of her back

Sleeping with her at night.