For the Departed

I

We couldn’t come over before Auntie

Had a ton of things to do galore

Couldn’t finish early either

Got late at night when quitted

We’re all coming over right now: your niece, in-laws some

Got everybody in tow collected

Took ten minutes to your turn off

Took another ten to find right road

The fields and trees have changed a lot

The driveway doesn’t look the same

But determination prevails, your home in sight

No vehicles can I see

Hopefully put away in barn

Gates all closed and locked

Have your number   cell phone in hand

Service rings seven times to “Leave Message.”

“Pickup Auntie we’re all outside by the locked gate”

“We have all come over for the visit”

“Pickup Auntie. We’re all outside by the gate.”

II

I can’t believe more, something’s missing

I can’t propose

And I never did: something pulled-out,

Thudded, like a falling tree landing

In me and through me

Like friendly feelings, and old and continuously

Like friendly feelings: with commitment, belonging, purpose, sharing

Staying, with heart and soul I feel all,

All want to gather

And scatter in place of, are thrown away

Associated flame; are incited

With parts that subsist

By property of flame.  The whole of lineage toils to shape and exist,

But the gene failed in the new web of my brain

As my memory cells extended

Expanded its way; a cell jumped;

In me as I applied,

The old gene of the young mind,

Reminiscing erratic galaxies,

Family ties, lots of house-rooms filling,

Origin maps   branching back,

Others of ninety degree ties,

Picked-up by small-waves, smaller

All images dotting from the placid-space

Movement of my knowing

For more web-cells: it had to be miracle-glue

Or at another place that I should attend

With alien standing, advanced age now,   

In my heart a new calling, a monk’s cloak

Harboring mature souls and eternal years

Of mind-focusing, the air about me

Charged with the aggregate particles

Of energy from my body, the organ hungered

With the hymn of pockets collecting

To a symphony created,

Showing once again I had missed the calling

For kindred family, and unwittingly

Drew on kindred-lineage

For that one universal episode

III

The seven hits. For unknown origin

Each are prevailing, and I cannot avoid them totally in front

I want to know things missing

And the ages.  It is fast traveling   faster still

All spaces always, and while it diffuses

Inside me like radio waves, it is always seven

And never less.

And besides the sky

Unified, covering times and hits

Through relevance; besides the sky, look to see,

Body vibrating with implication

And significance:

The sky not holding in

My pathetic, rollicking

Air-headed idealistic body, its educated

New beliefs coming as I wait

All around, coming for now and newer

In some order   coming a lot

Coming   more coming

A lot more

 Copyright 2013