I have this attempt at a poem that I've been working on for a while. I write a line maybe every five days. Sometimes I just replace one word with another. The meaning changes. I weigh the possible impact of each word. I'm not sure any longer what it's about or where it will end. I wonder if anyone will understand and answer by telling myself that, "it doesn't matter if they do." It's ok to be abstract. I think the one constant is intimacy. But what the hell do I know about that? Each time I think there's nothing else to be said, something rises up that calls for attention.
Today, my sister sent a photo of my mom. One I don't recall seeing before. It has me thinking about generations and time passing by. And how I wish we could have a few minutes together again. It's like yesterday at the family reunion. My sister orchestrated this game of family trivia. One of the questions was to name all ten siblings in my father's family. Two of the brothers passed away in their youth. A century has passed by since. I can visualize what I imagine as their childhood faces. The laughter of the moment in that trivia game has transitioned to feeling sad. It feels like I should have had a chance to meet these two uncles. And now I want to know more. I want to ask my dad about them.
Mansions and The Halo Benders ..... I love it when I discover bands who have been around for a while but who are new to me, and it feels like my degree of coolness and hip factor are suddenly elevated beyond the accepted upper limits and boundaries that such things are measured by.
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