Tuesday, November 1, 2022

An Aleph

My father made his own way to infinity


Or likely nothingness


As we would both have guessed—


But there alone as I have often since


Imagined him reclining in that sterile room


The pastel walls and neatly stowed


Steel instruments of intervention


In the maladies of those unblessed by his


Humanity—


I want to hope that as his


End was sealed he might have found


Beside a humming white florescent bulb—


Behind a ceiling tile—an orb—a gift from


Borges—shining with completeness


Sounding whole and universal while


Particular down to every atom of him


And his world through all of time and


Up to now—


When he might wish I find my own.

Saturday, October 1, 2022

Dust

  

A shooting star may be but dust

Until it slows against the atmosphere

And flares itself away, and even then

In final glory only for a second,

And even then, alone, unless by

Happenstance a face is turned

Its way at just that fateful moment.

 

Your dust is real to me now

As mine I hope will be to those who

Someday

By some confluence of miracles

Will for no good reason find me

In a skyward glance and

Raise an eyebrow as they smile.

 

© 2022 Guy Holliday all rights reserved

Thursday, September 1, 2022

Soothing the Boy

  

Tuck by me wombingly

Little one feverish lost in your

Sleep.  Let the hump of my heart

And the whoosh of my

Blood and the weight of my arm

Hold you nothingly easily warm.

 

Slumber insightlessly weightlessly

Burrow my ribhaven inhale me

Whispylock fleshbundle know

My soft armor surrounding you

Grounding you closely completely

The meat of me there.

 

Sail with me tightly through this

Our just conscious conjoining in time

 

© 2022 Guy Holliday all rights reserved


Monday, August 1, 2022

Summer Landscape

 

 

Though I left her cold

The mountain never left me

Cloaked in ice

Vanilla surging toward the

Colder air and melting sun

 

The alien cone of Fuji-san

Alone above the deep green

Origami of her skirts

Drew me and my children

As it will draw theirs

 

The beaches blossom here

As breakers hiss and sink

Into the sand

 

© 2022 Guy Holliday all rights reserved

Friday, July 1, 2022

To Have and Hold

 

 It sounds a bit possessive

Though at this point being had and held

Seems right.  It was as I remember it

A promise of reciprocal possession

And the holding sounded sweet. It is.

 

I hear you breathe above the constant

Crickets there between my failing ears

As morning light begins to slip around

The bedroom window blinds.

 

I’ll breathe with you a little longer

Here then quietly I’ll rise to just

Another day to have and hold.

 

© 2022 Guy Holliday all rights reserved

Wednesday, June 1, 2022

The Winnowing

  

At last

We are the bits of all there is

That we retain

 

The gathered spoonsful of

The universe that make their way

To where and when we are

 

A drooping frog-green leaf

Of my magnolia tastes the pane

Outside my dining room the

Gentle breeze a gift

 

And I move on within the

Warm sweet maelstrom

 

© 2022 Guy Holliday all rights reserved

Sunday, May 1, 2022

Just Now

  

I turned just now and saw you touch my knee

With all four fingertips as I drove through

The light Seattle mist the wipers set to slow

And as I did a young girl missed a bus

Because the bakery was busy and

Another doodle dog of some sort

Found a friend and lit a spark along

Two leashes and the car ahead

Had signaled left but after hesitating

Took a right and somewhere someone

Saw that they had set the world akimbo as

I marvel at the sweet infinity of choice and

Accident that brought my knee to where

Your fingertips could find it then just now.

 

© 2022 Guy Holliday all rights reserved