Archive for October, 1985

1985-10-18

Friday, October 18th, 1985

It laps around our mental feet
waiting for those moments
when we are alone
to rise to consciousness.

That empty aching feeling
of being so terribly alone;
insidiously, it devastates us
with the stranger’s face,
asphalt, other people’s children,
the women in the market,
all from another world,
now closed to us.

Such a gaping window opens here
just behind our suburban bliss
and our workday mindlessness.

A naked armageddon of the spirit
arrived from nowhere
to claim us.

gallagher
18 Oct 85


— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1985-10-22

Tuesday, October 22nd, 1985

By now you know that I know you
didn’t work on Monday. No wonder you were
in such a hurry to leave here. Let’s talk
quality time. I get Dennis working on
computers or with his nose stuck in a
book. Three weeks ago you couldn’t even
take off a couple of hours to go with me
for the post-coital exam. Granted you
went to the lab last week. You were the
one with your nose buried in the book
while I had my blood drawn. Then it was
run a couple quick errands before you had
to get back to work. Real romantic!
Friday night you didn’t come down because
you wanted to work late. Was this so you
could take off Monday? Last month we made
love twice.. once was the morning of my
exam. Says a lot about our relationship.

Now sit back and reflect on what
other girls get from you. More than me?

You bet I’m pissed. Aren’t I
justified?

Rose

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1985-10-23

Wednesday, October 23rd, 1985

All inside of me, so many threads
moment by moment I pass through
such utterly different spaces.
My joy and pain wash over me
as sunshine and rain.

This moment hangs before me
and I think ‘now’, and feel it
and later, if it comes again,
I will feel nothing’s gone between.
The passing of time itself
is the illusive dream.

Timeless and deathbound both are we.
Decaying flesh and shining light.
Minds that believe in time
and spirits asleep but free.

So we ache through each page of our play
live and die in small increments
as the living weathers us
and we cannot turn away
and if we see time’s cloth
pierced through for a moment
this cannot stay the living,
lessen the heartache,
or make our pain go away.

We are ink drops into the water of life,
smoke into His great sky.
We appear, transfixed, between becomings,
and can only laugh or cry.

gallagher
23 Oct 85


— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —