Sometimes late at night, I sit up and wonder…— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
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.
Archive for 1981
1981-10-08
Thursday, October 8th, 19811981-11-29 – Chris didn’t know
Sunday, November 29th, 1981
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
— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —