Archive for February, 1986


Thursday, February 6th, 1986

1986 … eight years since ’78
and I wonder what I’ve learned since then.

Woman passing by, touching me
like spirit ghosts at some improbable dance.

Rose, stronger … needing me less, free
leaving me less room to hide in her love.

I’m so much on the brink of being alone and free
and so afraid of it.

I can see now how my mother fell into the bottle
and why Bhagwan says enlightenment comes
only when you’re driven to the bitter end
and have nothing more to drop.

You can’t go to that place and hedge your bets.

6 feb 86

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —


Tuesday, February 11th, 1986

What are these faces we have
but the graven images of what went before.
Every face, every feature
of strength or beauty
reflects someone who survived
in the genetic pool.

We’re so many and so sanitary now
with our educations and mass media.
But then, during most of man’s growth,
men survived by strength and brutality
and woman by their sexual charms.

Tumbling fortunes on stages so small
that the next feudal estate was legendary.

From dark ages, lost dynasties,
and forgotten lovers
come our faces that have seen
and been much.

And we wear them
and think all that is lost.

11 feb 86

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —


Wednesday, February 19th, 1986

December, January, and February

Someday, perhaps, she’ll be by
wanting to settle into the patterns
of this life.

Until then, she can never ‘just see me’.
It always has to ‘mean’ something,
be something, go somewhere.

I’m sorry, Kathy.
With you I’ve never understood why
just love and friendship weren’t enough.

So today, once again, we part.
We drop our sexual magic
and this friendship that tried
to transcend the years
and the marriages and the lovers.

19 Feb 86

raining in Irvine and Hawiian gardens

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —