Seager Sessions I
29 June 2006, 10:47 PM
Bert
There's nothing like a cancelled session,
a little Springsteen
and Bourbon on the rocks to make me glad
I'm not anywhere but here.
I can't say I recognized him at first,
all clawed-and-hammered up-
there's nothing like a little Seager
to make a man what he ought to be.
I'm terribly glad to be at home with you.
So many things ought to make me so not
comfortable with who you are.
The man's man has never been my forte,
to say nothing of the little black dress,
so intimidating at first glance,
but so appropriate.
And it's all those things rolled into one,
making you the big brother I never wanted;
the bouncer of my love life (or lack thereof);
the harasser of any man who comes to call
and the harbinger of gritty wit on a day
that wasn't what it should have been,
but was so much more than it would have been
without you,
the Boss
and the Roses.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Jump
Of Trees & Skydiving
28 June 2006, 2:29 PM
So you want to be a tree,
which, by the way, is fine with me.
I'm not yet prepared to leave
the shade you've provided.
You see, I also am a tree of sorts.
My roots are tender,
still a bit weak and reaching
down into the soil beneath
the canopy of your branches.
I've been skydiving all my life,
not unlike you in that regard,
each landing a gamble;
a little harder than the one before.
That last jump finally broke my pot.
Now I'll plant myself for good or I'll fade;
my branches will not green again.
I'm glad to know my roots
have time to grow strong
before you jump;
if you jump
again.
28 June 2006, 2:29 PM
So you want to be a tree,
which, by the way, is fine with me.
I'm not yet prepared to leave
the shade you've provided.
You see, I also am a tree of sorts.
My roots are tender,
still a bit weak and reaching
down into the soil beneath
the canopy of your branches.
I've been skydiving all my life,
not unlike you in that regard,
each landing a gamble;
a little harder than the one before.
That last jump finally broke my pot.
Now I'll plant myself for good or I'll fade;
my branches will not green again.
I'm glad to know my roots
have time to grow strong
before you jump;
if you jump
again.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Possibilities
26 June 2006, 2:51 PM
Every breath expands
possibilities, like great gray ships
sailing the azure firmament.
Any moment, they'll release
a flood to bring life
singing from root, bough and twig.
Life as it is
now
will never be again.
That tree will shed at least one leaf;
tomorrow will be something
other than it is today.
Perhaps three or four will sprout;
replace the fallen,
but he will never be;
his like I'll never see
again.
Every breath expands
possibilities, like great gray ships
sailing the azure firmament.
Any moment, they'll release
a flood to bring life
singing from root, bough and twig.
Life as it is
now
will never be again.
That tree will shed at least one leaf;
tomorrow will be something
other than it is today.
Perhaps three or four will sprout;
replace the fallen,
but he will never be;
his like I'll never see
again.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Smoke
19 June 2006, 12:37 AM
I enjoyed a smoke tonight.
It may raise your brow for me to say
I need this pipe, but I do, for now.
I need something that makes you
smile, shake your head, question my wisdom;
something you wouldn't do, that I would,
just to make it clear to you (or me)
that I can choose it against you
and your better judgment.
Ah, the adolescence I never experienced:
the drive to disobey or rebel
that I never indulged back then-
it still exists, lives, breathes inside of me,
and I grasp at times for ways to give it voice,
though the time for breaking free of parental
authority is long past. I still feel this dire
need to throw back the Bourbon;
foolishly stand the ground you give so freely.
I am not deceived.
My rebellion is milder by far than I imagine.
I spend a great deal of time blowing smoke
as you stand by and applaud my voice,
regardless of where I find it-
in a poem or a pipe
or a shot of Woodford Reserve.
I enjoyed a smoke tonight.
It may raise your brow for me to say
I need this pipe, but I do, for now.
I need something that makes you
smile, shake your head, question my wisdom;
something you wouldn't do, that I would,
just to make it clear to you (or me)
that I can choose it against you
and your better judgment.
Ah, the adolescence I never experienced:
the drive to disobey or rebel
that I never indulged back then-
it still exists, lives, breathes inside of me,
and I grasp at times for ways to give it voice,
though the time for breaking free of parental
authority is long past. I still feel this dire
need to throw back the Bourbon;
foolishly stand the ground you give so freely.
I am not deceived.
My rebellion is milder by far than I imagine.
I spend a great deal of time blowing smoke
as you stand by and applaud my voice,
regardless of where I find it-
in a poem or a pipe
or a shot of Woodford Reserve.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Dream with Me
4 June 2006, 3:15 PM
We lay under that tree again,
only this time it wasn’t Maille.
Little Jacob had the time of his life
wiggling his toes, grabbing my nose,
smiling at the faces I made
as his chilly little fingers found my face.
Maille found us, as if she remembered
that very spot a year earlier.
She plopped down beside us,
said my name and smiled, delighted
at how wonderful the wind felt to her toes.
Tree gave us shade, wind cooled our skin,
leaves danced and whispered in light
of a blue sky day, while great white cloud
ships sailed the deep.
A year ago today, I lay here with Maille
waiting for a storm that came
just as it had promised.
It came and thrashed about,
turned my world inside-out,
but left me whole and yearning
for just one more moment
beneath the shade of an oak tree
with whatever child saw fit to stare
at the azure sky
through the shimmering emerald canopy
and dream with me.
We lay under that tree again,
only this time it wasn’t Maille.
Little Jacob had the time of his life
wiggling his toes, grabbing my nose,
smiling at the faces I made
as his chilly little fingers found my face.
Maille found us, as if she remembered
that very spot a year earlier.
She plopped down beside us,
said my name and smiled, delighted
at how wonderful the wind felt to her toes.
Tree gave us shade, wind cooled our skin,
leaves danced and whispered in light
of a blue sky day, while great white cloud
ships sailed the deep.
A year ago today, I lay here with Maille
waiting for a storm that came
just as it had promised.
It came and thrashed about,
turned my world inside-out,
but left me whole and yearning
for just one more moment
beneath the shade of an oak tree
with whatever child saw fit to stare
at the azure sky
through the shimmering emerald canopy
and dream with me.
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George MacDonald
"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."