SamadhiMuse

      What is it about some days?
        that I feel the tears just behind my eyes
      and warmth reminds me of youth…
        Today seems just like one of those grown up traps
          we plant for ourselves.
      Money requires money, knowledge needs more knowledge
        security implies its possible loss
          and age catches what the others miss
            and, still, we play on…half asleep, half aware.
      I’ve given up wondering what I want
        when I get it, its wrong
          and when I don’t, its impossible.
               01-07-80

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

            Hi Babe,
                 I had this card left over and couldn’t think of
            a single person to send it too!  Really I had so
            many to choose from that I had to flip a coin!
                 Thanks for a wonderful weekend.  I feel good
            now that we are on good ground again.  I hate the
            times when I let my jealousies overcome my common
            sense.  I know how deeply you care for me.  The
            weekend showed it once again.  Just being alone with
            you made me feel good.  I just hope I don’t loose
            the feeling.
                 Call me during the week if you get a chance.
                                 I love you,
                                    Rose
                                 (Watermelon Lady)
            Card from 1980, date unknown.

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

        Of all the stars I wonder which
      one I like the most…
        and then I realize I can like
      them all…
            Daniel Gallagher
            02-10-80

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

                   Of all the stars I wonder which
                 one I like the most…
                   and then I realize I can like
                 them all…
                             Daniel Gallagher
                               02-10-80

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

      As I walk down the street
      I ask myself…
      How did it all start???
      How did life start???
      How did the world all start???
      What happened???
      I guess I will never know…
         Daniel Gallagher
         02-10-80/2

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

                       As I walk down the street
                       I ask myself…
                       How did it all start???
                       How did life start???
                       How did the world all start???
                       What happened???
                       I guess I will never know…
                                Daniel Gallagher
                                02-10-80/2

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

               Dennis.
                    It was good talking to you
               today.  I hope you like your present.
               When I saw it I knew it was exactly
               right!
                    Talk to you soon.
                                 Love,
                                   Kathy
               p.s. you place feels so good.
               p.s.s. I love the blouse.
               ( Valentine card, 1980 )

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

     She’s been the one all these years
        how fragile hang the leaves of our futures
     time and events swirl… national, personal… age advances
        nothing remains the same.
     “Rose”, I could say, my hand on her’s
        with the endless calendar pages
           and conjunctions whispering around us
        and those small wrinkles advancing on our investments.
     And it would be but a gesture against life’s capriciousness
        and its tendency to change just when it feels good.
     So I’ve lived enough to see this life’s form… what I’ve done
        who I am… what’s caught me, what I’ve escaped
     I’ve formed enough to recognize she’ll always be the one
        just as Danny will always be my son.
                                        02-18-80

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

         With what patience and need
         Rose and I have loved each other these years.
         All our twenties given…
         our small wrinkles betray our investments
         and our memories that lie sleeping behind our eyes
         with all the distant wisdom
         of a thousand photograph album pages.
         Winter morning with she and my son sleeping around me
         keeping me warm and secure
         against the gray morning’s light.
         We’ve all come so far together
         to be here in this quiet hour.
         Rose’s belly full now with her new child’s warmth
         warms the bedroom’s dusk.
         And Danny asleep beneath the window’s light
         half grown
         and I scribbling notes before they wake
         beneath the lamp’s circle of light.
         Today we’re still together after ten years
         so much of my life’s time lays sleeping here.
         Texas, separations, marriage, Danny’s birth
         careers and college
         it all lays sleeping here under my pen.
         Rose, … who more than Rose is love to me?
         She’s wife, lover, sister, mother
         until I don’t know what she is to me.
                                 gallagher
                                 18 Feb 80

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

                                                to the tune of
                                                Kenny Roger’s
                                                “The gambler”
                  There seems to be a fullness
                    that’s rising up to meet me
                  a flowing field of fondness
                    that seems to know my name.
                  Its Rose and all her babies
                    and love with all its names
                  its Danny with his flaxen hair
                    and its me who loves them all
                  I wake up in the mornings
                    the smiling day to greet me
                  so tangible beyond my touch
                    the truth is plain to be.
                                 gallagher
                                 12 Mar 80

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

                          April’s fool
            Hard running … flat out working
              on a Maya high
                 lost in the computer’s labyrinth logic
            Making it work … for some ego trip?
              for the joy of creation
                 for the passage of unconscious time … ?
            Virginia, Washington D.C., Portland, Maine, and Quebec
              Rose and Christopher
                 Work’s cresendo … time’s almost inaudible
                    laughter.
                                       gallagher
                                       1 Apr 80

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

                     MEDITATIONS
      I resolve that the most important thing confronting me
        is the task of becoming what I want to become.
      I recognize that, when at brief moments, I become conscious,
        I know what I want.
      And that what I want is to retain this awareness
        and there is no way to do this
          short of wanting it more than anything else.
      I want to become what I want when I am conscious.
      I want to be the master of my physical body’s(mind’s) condition
        within those limits that my age and genetic inheritance impose.
      And if faith or will power
         can gain me more than that
            then I want that too.
      My body (mind) is mine if I will claim it.
      I want the manifestation of my consciousness
        to become my conscious foreground
      and the details of my life; its work, its involvements,
        to become the background.
      but its details must be executed to perfection
        because my consciousness of their execution is a reflection
          of my deeper commitment to conscious awareness
            in all that I do.
      It is not that I lack the ability to conceive what I want
        in my moments of clarity.
      It is more that I cannot maintain the awareness
        of what I want.
      I slip back into unconsciousness; physical gratifications,
        into my unconscious animal reactions
          to each moment’s passing stimuli.
      Its not that I should deny my physical nature
        but that I should experience it without lapse
          of awareness of my deeper want…
            to remain conscious.
                                       04-09-80
                                       Portland, Maine

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

                          ST. GEORGES, QUEBEC
                2 hours ride and northern Yankee New England
                  gives way to this river town of St. Georges
                The river’s winds wind with the streets
                  and the town’s gothic church rises above
                    the arched bridge and the river’s promenade
                Nothing here would deny I am in France…
                occasionally a woman will look at me
                  with a look that I have come to recognize
                as a look that only French women can master
                  both wide eyed and sensuously unabashed
                They seem to value the clarity of their passions as
                  some of us value the clarity of our perceptions.
                Their eyes and laughter shine like a child’s
                  through their European sophistications
                and their passion lies just beneath their poise
                  wellsprings of feeling that tell me
                    everything else here is just a game….
                                        04-12-80
                                        St. Georges, Quebec

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

                Oh, what dancing arabic eyes speak to me now?
                  as dark as the crusades and balustrades and minarets
                high noon over Mecca and Mohammed’s’s sandal
                  they echo here to me in these Lebanese eyes…
                                        04-29-80

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

                I pound on the walls that bind me here
                  but they never lessen
                my Age, Death, Insight …
                  the incandescent realizations of chances lost,
                    of the permanence of change,
                  they come and dance to me
                    when I stare in the mirror
                ever step is more fraught with irrevocability
                  as I go forward
                because I have so much more to lose
                  its always less the open slate now
                and more the written Word … the patterns born,
                  and crucified, and calcified,
                    and finally … owned.
                And though I pound on my walls
                  and drink the wine of these thoughts
                    into the depths of night…
                  it is.
                                        04-29-80/2

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

                The echos are nice
                  if you keep a clean house.
                We each hear our note amid the rest
                  and so listen … raw note.
                …and if the cloth is to be frawth with meaning
                and I do it here … then where else?
                calling’ bottom line … dropping’ acid
                  and if it’s just because I dropped?
                In an acid trip any reflection is a glare.
                Why is it, on acid, I can feel being
                  give rise to being
                like that warm fire that rises from my stomach
                  and invades every fiber.
                Men I can respect are beginning to form pictures
                  around me … Bach, Rajneesh …
                I’ve been thru the ones who write about it
                  It is! It’s with what respect we give it.
                                        07-11-80 (lsd)

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

                Witnessing can be done anywhere.
                  So nothing needs be done
                    no need to begin …
                Amid the drifting sheets
                  of the afternoon’s suchness
                    three o’clock calls
                A day starts as an accolade
                  and then drifts to mixed reviews
                those that applaud the rise
                  and those who mourn the fall
                  so every act
                    … moment… person… thought…
                                07-11-80/2 (lsd)

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

                     How is the “Flash” spending his
                     special day?  Sure hope its happy.
                     Your old girlfriend would like
                     a belated celebration with you.
                     I feel like doing something crazy
                     — I’m sure you’ll think of lots
                     of stuff!
                     I’ll get in touch with you next
                     week.
                                 Love,
                                   Kathy
                     ( birthday card, 1980 )

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

                Humility comes walking to me…a stranger
                  and I’m no longer waiting with welcome at the door
                I fall over myself with honesty and flinch at nothing
                  someone is fading behind these masks I wear.
                  It happens because I am absent in my roles.
                                        09-02-80

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

   All day my nerves creaked like the wood of an old ship
     an eye watering day where peace never had a chance
   and all day I tried to find what it was that had me so close to the line
     that I felt I was loosing my self vindication…
   am I falling asleep to property ownership and the corporate dream?
     I’m afraid sometimes that I might just rally
   against the high water marks
     at what ever moment I just happen to be
      perhaps its good I feel so disenchanted today
        it stirs the wine and the tragic chords within me
      so little lately do I commune within myself
                   09-02-80/2

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —