thejournalofbisonjack

[thejournalofbisonjack]

Art’s Cafe, Savannah, Georgia, 1948

.

In the part of me that stayed behind,

there is still a suitcase waiting by the door

and although I no longer believe it is big

enough for me to leave with and begin again

somewhere, I like to think that one day it

might be small enough for me to disappear.

[thejournalofbisonjack]

Into Days

.

In late summer,

when the evenings ripen

into days of unrelenting rain,

the forest encroaches, and

the blades of grass sharpen,

and we become the wild things.

[thejournalofbisonjack]

Pine Tree Inn, Eden, PA.

,

Perhaps

happiness

is realizing

all the things

that could  

have gone

wrong and

didn’t.

[thejournalofbisonjack]

Imagining a postcard arriving this morning from my dearest friend who died last year….

The Names of Things ( Dear You #6)

I am beginning

to forget

the names of things

as there is

no separation here

only the

emptiness and

spaciousness

of my own undoing

on this journey

into being.

[thejournalofbisonjack]

The Comet Liquor Store

.

I met you when we

were both falling apart

and for a brief time

we fell together,

burning through

the atmosphere

of each other’s lives

like shooting stars.

[thejournalofbisonjack]

Surpass Kid

-

Forever caught in

the undertow of childhood,

I have spent most

of my life circling myself

while reaching down for

my own outstretched hand.

[thejournalofbisonjack]

Be, The Difference

The only difference

between longing and

belonging is just be.

[thejournalofbisonjack]

Mineola (March 16, 1904)

.

If love is the measure

by which we measure

the immeasurable

then it is also the

distance we must be

prepared to travel.

[thejournalofbisonjack]

A Penny for Your Thoughts

.

On days like today,

when nothing I write

seems to make any sense,

I remind myself that

what I have been struggling

to say all these years

was once something

I was trying to forget.

[thejournalofbisonjack]

Reverie & Grief

(from A Dictionary of Sorts #127)

.

Reverie (n):

To alight on a breeze.

Grief (n):

A play of light

in the wilderness.

[thejournalofbisonjack]

Out of the Ordinary

I suppose that

I take photographs

in an attempt to

make peace with

the unknown and

write poems in the

hope I might one

day make peace

with who I am

and, of course, it

doesn’t escape me

that there is nothing

out of the ordinary

about this—for are

they not the goals

of us all.

[thejournalofbisonjack]

Epitaph

.

I am old. I am young.

I am every age I have ever been.

I am the porcelain floor and

the morphine drip, the dirt

and the shovel and the light

bursting through the trees.

[thejournalofbisonjack]

Together (from To the Quick, 2014)

I hope the new

hole I made in this

belt keeps me

from falling apart.

[thejournalofbisonjack]

Black & White & Color

.

It seems that I have

been searching for the truth

my whole life while at the

same time making sure

it couldn’t find me.

[thejournalofbisonjack]

The Kind of Love ( Savannah, Georgia, 1948 )

.

On my way to the local

grocery store this morning,

I fell in love.

It wasn’t the marrying

kind of love or the fucking

kind of love or the kind

of love that sets fire to

everything in its path

but rather the kind of love

that makes you keep walking

and never look back;

the kind of love that takes

the kind of courage you

didn’t have; the kind of love

whose shadow stays with

you for the rest of your life;

the kind of love that after

buying a pint of milk and

a loaf of bread makes you

treat yourself to some fancy

marmalade.

[thejournalofbisonjack]

A response to the renowned physicist Richard Feynman’s question:

“If, in some cataclysm, all of scientific knowledge were to be destroyed, and only one sentence passed on to the next generation of creatures, what statement would contain the most information in the fewest words?…..”

[thejournalofbisonjack]

Commencement Address, Detroit, 1912

.

A brief commencement address:

Be tender and diligent and

resistant to any other purpose.