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
— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
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