Archive for September, 2013

2013-09-27 – Somewhere, these lands join

Friday, September 27th, 2013
 
Somewhere, these lands join;
   the all embracing smile and the closely reasoned thought.

In one land, we drive a stake
   and call it context, time and place.
In the other, we are mute and empty
   and all the parts mix into each other.

There are sign posts and paths between:
   here, arithmetic, there algebra and, beyond, calculus.
The discrete ebbing into the unity,
   the concrete dissolving into the abstract,
the events becoming the experiences,
   and the known bits of knowledge changing into knowing.

There, sits a holy man lost in the ineffable.
   Adrift and aware amid the unspeakable,
empty and conscious
   wordless and steeped in wisdom.

Here sits a wordsmith, stringing his beads,
   muttering his rosaries of syntax and grammar.
Time draws on and a breeze whispers of place
   and of a pen in search of a bridge.

With time, it all fades slowly away;
   the events, the facts, the things learned and repeated.
We are here on the bench, but who is really here?
   Now, we are considering this silence, but when is now?

If I bring all this and write the last line.
   If I bring all this and write the last line.
I am in the place where these lands join,
   I've come in from the outside
      or I've come out from the inside;
         both.

gallagher
27 Sep 2013
Paris - Parc Monceau

— Copyright 1965-2013 by Dennis Gallagher —

2012-08-02 – My sons

Sunday, September 29th, 2013
 
I can see that both my sons feel the hero in their lives.
   Strong and true, they feel the power of a life engaged.
When the singer hits the note that pulls the heart strings, 
   they are with her; filled with the ache to touch the quick of things.

They will not live timid and small, in a world to be mitigated, 
   moving in the shadows to avoid risk and feelings.
A spirit rages in them as it has done in me - a spirit filled with love 
   and compassion and a deep certainty of strength.

I remember so many moments when these torrents of feelings have 
   been loosed in me; 
with my skin and heart feeling the wind and rain of existence raw.
   It's a poet's heart that wants to cup all this to its lips.

And I see all this has found its way into my sons.
   Thank you, Beloved.

Gallagher

2 Aug 2012 - Irvine, CA, USA

— Copyright 1965-2013 by Dennis Gallagher —

2012-07-17

Sunday, September 29th, 2013

Do not spare me from feeling all this;
right down to the quick.


To feel the life that’s always been here
just beyond my next should
and the mind’s endless chatter.


There are death and endings here
so burn me down, Beloved,
and just let me feel it all.


Here, without purpose and meaning,
here, where this same sun has shown forever.
Here, where transience is the song of life,
and here, where the poet’s heart burns within me.


Here, I raise my hands and close my eyes,
here, a terrible beauty rages.

Here are the beginnings and endings of all of us,
on our ways to the ever now.


Here, I’ve stopped for a moment,
to be in the endless One.

Gallagher – 17Jul2012 – Benicia, California


— Copyright 1965-2013 by Dennis Gallagher —