My Sons— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
My sons a man could be proud of
they say something of the best of Rose and I
with a cut and line, a form
that my eye never fails to fall on, pleased.
Danny, the sensitive blond and popular artist of us
how well he’s formed thru the caldron
of our marriage years and evolutions
The man begins to show in him
as firm and as deep as I could wish it
and I want to stand back and applaud
and give him room and respect to grow in
And Chris, blocky intense little Chris
affectionate and secure, pushy and proud
his potential and promise fill him with presence
he radiates ‘I am a good boy’, without any doubts
My sons
they make me prouder than anything else
I’ve ever done.
10-08-82
Vancouver, B.C.
Archive for the ‘Years’ Category
1982-10-08 My Sons
Friday, October 8th, 19821982-10-20
Wednesday, October 20th, 1982“I’m insecure.”, I said, and she came and held me.— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
She’d been telling me of her boy friend at work
and the story of what they’d been thru these past weeks.
My heart had crept from its shell to stare
and my questions quivered to be calm and even
as they followed her there.
She had been unhappy to share in his lies and deceits
and had said that if he was unhappy
that he should leave his wife
and then she and he could conduct themselves
straight and fair.
But when he took her advice his wife, driven to far,
tried to take her life and thus held him there
and, now, he and Rose are ‘just friends’
across the quiet bridge of his despair.
gallagher
20 October 1982
sjc
1982-11-17 Bhagwan knocking
Wednesday, November 17th, 1982Bhagwan knocking— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
I read Bhagwan just before I went to sleep
and awoke to find my self drawn to paper by my thoughts.
Itching me, burning me, his words brought me awake
with thoughts that seemed to cut through
the dreams I normally live.
I’ve drifted and doubted under the incredible pressure of friends
until Oregon and the experience I had there
has drifted into the library of my memories
and I’m once more unconscious and a-churn
with the pressures of what to do with my life.
But, when he speaks it rings with utter truth
that while I listen and remain aware
my life and purposes, cares and concerns
are cast into a doubt more profound and meaningful
by the lack of any arguments or reasons given.
If I go again I will surely take Sanyas.
I can feel the pull from here.
Should I light the candle I won’t let burn?
He asks nothing if not all
and ( though no one believes it )
he asks nothing but for me.
My love, my awareness, my being.
He says do them, take them, be them.
I point the way, I am the gate.
Listen, experience, become … more.
I am a living example.
And I stand awe struck and amazed
by music no one here ever seems to hear.
Is it me or is it them?
No one here has any real purpose
and He says there is none
but he’s happy with that
and look at us here.
And the night goes on.
gallagher
17 Nov 82