09-29-2022, 07:27 AM
Hello Tim, in-line suggestions, below:
The old place was built by hand
by my grandfather, who later disappeared,
only to be found preaching
on a street corner in Albuquerque.
It was the place where an uncle
grasped my arm, in a daze
of Alzheimers, thinking I was his son.
Where I stood on the porch in a storm
shouting “kingdom” at the lightning,
lost my virginity on a terrifying summer afternoon,
took LSD and waited all night for the milkman,
sat on the steps after hearing Ginsberg read,
writing my own Howl by candlelight.
My father and my son died in that house.
Gone now. Demolished. Its earth scraped clean.
Nothing left but the sky.
And remembering, as I search that opaque sky,
patiently awaiting my own dissolution.
The old place was built by hand
by my grandfather, who later disappeared,
only to be found preaching
on a street corner in Albuquerque.
It was the place where an uncle
grasped my arm, in a daze
of Alzheimers, thinking I was his son.
Where I stood on the porch in a storm
shouting “kingdom” at the lightning,
lost my virginity on a terrifying summer afternoon,
took LSD and waited all night for the milkman,
sat on the steps after hearing Ginsberg read,
writing my own Howl by candlelight.
My father and my son died in that house.
Gone now. Demolished. Its earth scraped clean.
Nothing left but the sky.
And remembering, as I search that opaque sky,
patiently awaiting my own dissolution.