Archive for the ‘1976’ Category

1976-09-14

Tuesday, September 14th, 1976

         Ever receding, certain years seem to call me
         their music pulls my memories out
         and I wonder at the spans I see
         between me, now and then.
         I wasn't crazier, just more naive then.

         Imagination has few bounds
         when you know nothing of the way.
         The years churn behind me now as I enter the rapids
         and blind faith grows ever more poignant
         when I hear them on the radio.

                                    gallagher
                                    14 september 76

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1976-10-03

Sunday, October 3rd, 1976
         I may be poor but I can see what I'm looking at
         when it comes time to judge where I'm at.
         Taking it serious leads me only
         to the blindness of the material world.
         What have I got to loose
         when I haven't got anything but seeing and living?

         Let me fly on what vision's mine.
         I've got nothing else but the death
         everyone else has.
         Yeah, and it's sweet to walk alone
         taking it all on.

                                 gallagher
                                 3 Oct 76

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1976-10-08

Friday, October 8th, 1976

            Tinkering it all away,
            the forms, the becomings, the being.

            I swing in the wind of it
            and it sings in my chimes,
            while I, the hung man,
            wave feebly about in it.

            Its life and all its doings
            fooling (flowing) around with me.
            Godot told me once
            it would be like this.

            How hard we labor at our communications
            and our art.
            As if to bridge the unbridgeable
            and its realization,
            to hide the mysteries.

            Its a balance, somehow,
            our refinement of art and
            our appreciation of the chaos.

            Zen monks, art students revel in it.
            They want it all now; the clarity and the chaos.

            It much nicer to seek it than run
            when you've seen where running leads.

                                    gallagher
                                    8 Oct 76

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —