i remember the day it rained
and we drove to the dunes
sat in the car
watching the storm come in
over lake michigan
i don’t know who moved first
to hold hands
to walk in the rain
to make out under an umbrella
to let go
to dance
laugh
kiss
more times then we could count
or ever keep track of
i just remember your face
and letting the water drip
as our bodies gave way to each other
and made memories
that were lifetimes ago.
but these are them
the moments
the minutes
the seconds
these are the ones i’m talking about
telling you about
listen to me
please
just listen
and hold on
and take
and keep
and remember
always remember
that even though it’s not perfect
it’s not pretty
it’s not anything at all
but what you make it
even though it is
all these things
and so much more
depending on time
energy
consumption
love
no love
heart
no heart
it is simply banging on drums
loud noises
pots and pans
strategic movements
and small intervals
that make up the bigger picture
the laugh lines
the loss of hair
the memories
boxed
unboxed
framed
unframed
it just doesn’t matter
let it come
let it sit with you
and take it in
take it all in
before they take it from you
and the only thing you have to show
is grief
worry
and some ridiculous mantra you learned when you were twenty
and beautiful
and perfect
and celebrated
for being twenty
for being beautiful
for being perfect
but for never being
smart
wise
and understated
as in love
as in you
as in silence
as in forever
all things not withstanding
judgement day
life choices
and the knowledge that
you finally let it all go
you finally gave in
smiled
and embraced the mess
we call
life.
there is silence tonight
in the words
in the movement
in the message
i have nothing
and everything
irony falls
thick
and heavy
into my lap
onto the floor
pushing up like flowers in the springtime
or memories
put upon your grave
and i am not prone
to letting things go
to listening long after i forgot
or to loving
before the music stops
but just the same
i am alright
i am okay
i am
even after midnight
even after this week
even after
being here
and understanding
there is nothing left to give
except myself
my soul
my body
and the meager connections
i hold to this world
with light weight nostalgia
for all things
under one god
one roof
one thought process
that keeps turning over in my head
again
and again
until the only thing i hear
is my heart
the keyboard
and the memories
of an old soul
trying desperately
to stay young.
standing in my kitchen
drinking whiskey
straight up
thoughts moving faster then i can keep track
as i rewind
replay
and think over the last 48 hours of my own mortality
as i shuffle paperwork
remove band-aids on my back that form an “x”
and place ointment over the missing skin
small sections
no love loss
marks
divots
hollowed out reminders
and the occasional painful wince
that comes from cancers search
and my uneasy feeling
of loosing what little i have
standing in my kitchen
thinking mostly about my son
about his life
about how all bets are off
all windows
once closed
now seem open
as doors
slam shut in my face
and i worry about things
i wouldn’t think twice of
a year ago
standing in my kitchen
understanding death for the first time
in ways i never knew of
as i mournfully drink my whiskey
swallow whole my pain
and wait for phone calls
that will tell me
if i’m dying
dead
or safe.
he doesn’t have my eyes
he doesn’t have my chin
my lips
or my face
he doesn’t have my arms
my legs
or even my thick italian hands
but he laughs just like me
he smiles
the same way i do
he listens
moves
and jumps with excitement
just like me
and even though
he was born
somewhere else
to someone else
he still fits perfectly
in my arms
in my life
and in my world
he’ll never have
my hair
my feet
or even my ears
but he will always have
the one true thing
that ever really mattered
he will have
my heart.
today is love
today is grace
today is a reminder
to pain
to life
to living
today is just a day
like any other
remember that
keep that
hold that
to be true
to be safe
to be who you are
all day
everyday
today is unimportant
to time
to living
to life
today is
as it was yesterday
and will be tomorrow
don’t overcomplicate
don’t lacerate
don’t stir
don’t mix
just listen
just let go
just love
and everything else
will fall
into place
out of place
but around you
like everyday does
like everyday should
today is love
is grace
is mercy
is just a reminder
to pain
to life
to living
today
is.
black coffee press news
hello to everyone,
it’s been a busy new year and between christmas season, still feeling like a new father, new work schedules and black coffee press projects…well, nothing has ever been so nuts. in any event i wanted to take time to promote three new books that just came out from black coffee press—yes we still exist and are working harder then ever. the calm is just the eye of the tornado, we’re still very much swirling around at a fevered pitch. i’ll grant you most of it is way past midnight and usually i wake up with my underwear over my head and scott screaming at me about deadlines as i light up another cigarette and drink my vodka from a baby bottle. it’s much less complicated that way. i think.
anyway, we just finished up Border Theory by Stefanie Wielkopolan. it’s pretty damn awesome. these poems are so beautifully pieced together. she makes everything seem effortless in form and function. she’s originally from michigan and now lives in planet pittsburgh. i’m telling you you will not be disappointed.
keeping with our female voices and writers i want to also remind everyone that our very own jackson bates has published with black coffee press—P.U.D.Z.S. is now out and getting some great reviews. Jackson is a true megalithic giant in fiction writing. it’s amazing to see her words in print. but more over her story telling ability ranks up there with any great writer, be it stephen king, james patterson, stephenie meyer or jk rowling. do yourself a favor and pick up her newest book.
and last but never least, Scott C. Rogers has taken time out of his busy schedule to release a limited edition story entitled Gunshot Stigmata. aside from a genius layout and amazing book cover put together by the author himself the story is airtight, brilliant and inspiring. each chapter is a page. each page pushes the limits of complexity and layers. it’s a testament to craft. Hemingway used to say that there’s nothing more complicated then a short story. there’s so much explanation that has to be exacted into a very small amount of space. take for example the old man and the sea. brilliant in every way. Scott Rogers has done the same thing with Gun Shot Stigmata. If you read nothing else this year, then do yourself the favor of reading this wonderful novella.
Thanks again for all your support. it’s late, i’m tired and i’m sure i have something else to catch up on. like sleep or lack there of or maybe just pretending i know what normal is. take care all.
sincerely,
thomas michael
black coffee press
check us out at: www.blackcoffeepress.net
i walked into the room
and saw you sitting upright
wheel chair bound
picking at your bruises
old scabs
dying arms
legs
trapped in a body
that can no longer responds
and we talked about life
how bad hospital food taste
and why death takes so long
and i don’t know what made me cry more
when your diaper needed changing
when your legs failed to move
or those stupid yellow footies
they keep putting on you to keep you from sliding into oblivion
or maybe it was just the knowledge
of leaving you at christmas time
all alone
in room 214
bed four
sleeping
dying
waiting
for the end
i do know it succeeded where others have failed
as i sat in my car
outside my mother in law’s house
christmas eve
crying like a baby
for my grandfather to not suffer anymore
not to feel pain
not to know
that all of this was a beginning
to an end
that just keeps on going
maybe that’s what made me cry the most
or maybe
it was everything.
