In memory of Kevin Cohen
Thirteen days, I thought about the window
And where it looked out into a wooded garden,
Flowers arranged wild like dabs of paint
Beneath a sagely oak; the gentle shade,
The yellow darkness
Had seeped in to the minister’s sermon,
We were swept up by summer rain, his sepia
Fear growing as I scorned the pulpit,
The centerpiece, the weary nod of smoke,
The yellow voices
Lost against the window; pagan, almost, our
Forest of pews in a makeshift meadow,
But it was glass clearer than empty space!
Between branches lay subtle brilliance,
The yellow eyes
Bowed low, hushing off green shade and
Stone doorways carved in nearby hills.
There is no fear; when we go, the tomb
Is just another window, and passing through
The yellow light.
Comments (6)
Thanks for letting me be first. ^_^
You are one of my favorite people.
exciting new stuff!
D: I waited a whole day. You could have sampled the draft earlier. Shucks. Go write!
connie: Haha, it is just stuff. Exciting will come eventually. So… *ahem* any new stuff on your end, eh?
I asked you, dear friend, to be my colleague because you are…you. ^_^
Okay, okay…
We exude the same passion and appreciation for literature (among other things…) and I feel very connected to you through all that we share and have shared.
You were the right person to ask…I can’t really pinpoint a specific reason why, since there are many.
I guess that’s how it goes. You are my definition of a colleague…and friend.
Just stick with it, k?
P.S. I love how you enter your own site URL when you post a comment so that if i click on your name, I’m brought back to the site…clever…in the Charlie-kind-of-way.
P.P.S. I’m writin’ away
Must you make email mandatory???
I’m just leaving all of these comments to make you nervous.
j/k
did not know where you were–so decided to leave you a msg here.