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1983-04-03

Sunday, April 3rd, 1983 

      Lying there beside her, I smell her skin, the warmth of her
         I see, or imagine, in the gray light, the wrinkles
            I've put there and I feel the storm of our lives
      She's told me her period's wrong and that her breasts hurt.
         For months we've tried to conceive
            and come to this.
      I put my hand on her back beneath the covers
         intimate against her sleeping
            I would know her skin anywhere.
      I begin to feel age and our mortality.
         Even now my body says I press too hard
            that I cannot become what I once was.
      And she who grows more precious to me each year
         grows more ripe for He who reaps us all.
            I touch her back and feel her breath ... in this moment.
                              Gallagher
                              3 April 83, SJC

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

Posted in 1983, Poetry Collective, Rose, San Juan Capistrano | No Comments »

1984-06-24

Sunday, June 24th, 1984 
      What will I say to them, these chest clawed veterans
        what, to shock them with MY vision
           to awaken those jaded of wine and muse?

      They'll fall asleep if I don't tear my heart out here
        and come to the bare edge of my sanity, quickly.

      Sarcasm, passion, agonizing, intellectualizing
        and plundering their lives for words.

      What can I do against such as these,
        a romantic at an existentialist's ball.

      My dreams, though, are real....
        Forged of pain, yes.
           But the dreams, and not the pain, have endured.

      I see music in children's eyes
        and feel tears well up at old photographs
           of people never met.

      I've seen that each moment can be an act of utter
        courage...if we just live it to the brim.

      Gossamer curtains these, 
     against their screams for blood.
               I'm a child, running, in a city under siege.

                             gallagher
                              24 jun 84

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

Posted in 1984, Irvine, Poetry Collective | No Comments »

1985-11-20

Wednesday, November 20th, 1985 
            That I had opened to Lise
            means the hand of Fate can move there.|

            This dark eyed woman who captures me so;
            I want to look deep into the mystery of it
            for life is made more of this,
            the spaces between men and women,
            than of anything else.

            In the darkness there I will find everything
            I've wanted to learn.
            Just as I've found the warmth of her heart
            and the musk of her inner thigh
            so can I find more
            by accepting everything Fate offers
            through her.

            Come, dark eyes, come and burn me down again.
            Come, with your mystery and your love,
            with your mother's heart and your lover's passion.
            Come with love ascending ... or departing.
            Love me or hurt me, cherish me or scorn me.
            Today Fate's hand moves through you
            and I will listen to It
            through this love, yours and mine,
            until I can rise to the dance no more.
                                    gallagher
                                    20 Nov 85

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

Posted in 1985, AAA - Recommended, Catalyst2, Irvine, Lise, Poetry Collective | No Comments »

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