49

- for Kathleen

It is
your birthday
dear sister
today
the labor of you
began

our mother crazy
Norwalk crazy she
divines a miracle
and somehow is
lost in its darkening
lens

the chafe separates
and the grain is luminant
a pearl is irritated
and arrives in flannel
with red stars set deep
in denim you

madness and death
has taken our siblings
the shame a codex
that weaves around
us binding what a
mess

you a mania
quirky quick brilliant
and driven a flurry a
Darwinian resolve
rooted in a dinner
party and a consciousness
arriving just in
time

we are family
and scarred and
standing on feet
that hurt and lose
circulation we buzz
outside and hurry
along busy and regretful
and half a state away
we gray we
remember

I think of
you today
and most days
happy that
you are and
we are


Open Mic Across From Bus Station

the middle aged man at the mic
goes on about masturbation,
chat room cyber sex and Jesus

scary guy really
reads directly off his laptop
no time limit in a mostly
empty room

I wonder if he's online
now, chatting away
he says without Jesus,
he's trapped in depravity

thank god for Jesus

If You Lived Here

it's Easter in
a city of angels

detached angels transient angels
dancing on pins forgetful

prostrate to the ephemeral
with nails gripping earth

it's all possible here

a state of culture a dream
builds monuments in ether

does anyone really live here?

a sign off the 101
in Hollywood says,

if you lived here
you'd be homeless
 

© 2006 Phil Taggart