SamadhiMuse » 1981

1981-02-14

Dennis — Sat, 14 Feb 1981 08:00:00 +0000

         Another time...another moment
           with indelible written on it
           the strobe flash of recognition
         amid the mindless progressions of moments...the day to day.


         A lifetime's change point bridging time and insignificance
           it brings to ground against the quiet paper.


         I run so hard most times and think so little
           our world's going to hell in a hundred ways
         and my loved ones and I wait near naked against its caprice
           nothing so precious here as their moments and their love
         and so much seems to escape me
           so much.


                                    gallagher
                                    14 Feb 1981

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1981-03-28

Dennis — Sat, 28 Mar 1981 08:00:00 +0000

I’d like to write of love
but I don’t know what to say.
The feelings run so deep
my words cannot convey.

Drink of it the fullest draught
these moment’s press the heart.

Outlined against the measured play
of certain clocks, entropic clay
the light that burns from love’s release
is the light that gives our hope belief.

gallagher
28 Mar 1981
after seeing ‘The Jazz Singer’
with Rose in San Diego

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1981-04-11

Dennis — Sat, 11 Apr 1981 08:00:00 +0000

I hope this life sustains Rose.
This one of coming and going
this love for a week and then
wait for two.

I think of Chris and I’m always
amazed at my thoughts
small person with eyes
of such potential and trust

Loving Danny grew on me
like the ivy that overcame the church
but Chris has been a storm
ever since Rose and I gave him his life.

I hope she holds on
all my life, or hers.
Its the only feeling I have
that runs deeper
than the joy of living
and its pleasures
amen.

I’ve been so reckless with it
and I’ve been so lucky.

gallagher
11 apr 1981
Vancouver, B.C.

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1981-04-11

Dennis — Sat, 11 Apr 1981 08:02:00 +0000

I find no contradiction
in loving women and loving Rose
but I’m not sure I could ever
explain it to her though I’ve tried.
I’ve pressed her flesh and held her eyes
amid the months and names
the love and the pain.
Someplace deep
I always hope I’ve convinced her
but I know the changing seasons
of her faith too well.

gallagher
11 Apr 1981
Vancouver, B.C.

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1981-07-18

Dennis — Sat, 18 Jul 1981 08:00:00 +0000

Sometimes I go so deep within myself
and see so shallowly into others
as if I was the only one who felt
or imagined
or rejoiced
or thought.

Clear my eyes that I might see
the wondrous child that lives within each of us
and cross the bridges that words and relationships
can never span.

That deep something that burns
deep inside of each of us
amid doubt and habits for only the certain touch
of another who’s awake … and cares.

gallagher
18 July 81
SJC

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1981-09-21

Dennis — Mon, 21 Sep 1981 08:00:00 +0000

I reach for my feelings
and try to give them form in words
to capture the moments
when I rise above the stream of my life’s history
and gaze with horror or rapture
on the forms I’ve invested my life in.

Less these days do I rise…
so tight have drawn the habits
of the things and the people I love.

There’s no measure
by which my life is not adequate
and yet, somewhere inside,
I still turn restless
wanting the ice water shock of everything new
that maximum becoming
that must arise from starting as nothing.

The love is not so bad these days…Rose and my children
I’ve never been more blessed
and she, she loves me enough
to let me have my time and space alone.

More these months I turn restless against my work
I remember realizing sometime ago
the difference between
the absorption of creativity
and the mire of baroque detail.

gallagher
21 September 1981
sjc

1981-10-08

Dennis — Thu, 08 Oct 1981 08:00:00 +0000

Sometimes late at night, I sit up and wonder…
scenes of Rose and our houses … Danny’s growing
and all my unrest in the midst of plenty
flow by.

I think, these times, that I can almost grasp
what it was that made my mother an alcoholic.
When I look at my picked and chewed fingers
and my life’s restless turning.

I wonder if there’s something I can do
on these sleepless nights
turning over my memories
and imagining my possible futures

For all my thinking about my life and its purpose
I’m more driven that driver here

And for all my attention to the wind’s subtle nuances
I find myself on the bitter edge of my love’s loss
too many times.

gallagher
8 Oct 81
Vancouver, B.C.

1981-11-29

Dennis — Sun, 29 Nov 1981 08:00:00 +0000

Our lives are made fragile by the things that we love
and the years our love brings to bear.
Chris lay sleeping as I prepared to leave
and I stood and stared thru the bars of his crib.
He loves me to tickle him and his eyes shine as he squeals
and he can say ‘Da-dee’ and does, again and again.

Some place from far back inside of me
as I looked watching him sleep
I thought of how fragile are all of our lives.
The patterns of security, comfort and association we erect
against these wars and illnesses, crimes and disasters…
none of them are less real, because we love.

Its just that my perception
of how life and its vagaries comes together
with our love and its attachments
has sharpened with age.
As the blunders of youth’s mania
and other distortions fall away
and I see the ‘human condition’ more,
and I cringe at how naked we stand.

But Chris didn’t know … even that I was leaving
his blankets and thumb and baby fat warmth
defined the world he knows.

gallagher
29 Nov 1981
LAX, Vancouver bound