Nobody knows when it’s gonna rain again
So the weatherman’s preoccupied with cyanide inside his eye
Nobody knows when it’s gonna rain again
But I doubt this drought’s about what’s going on up there
That’s why I’m scared
My friend beware
Nobody knows if it’s gonna change again
I can’t cope w hope, the Pope, or anything in between
(it’s so obscene)
Nobody knows if I’ll need this brain again
while all these possibilities spin me insane my baby
Some call me crazy
Others call me lazy
But with a newspaper in my hand
I’m searchin’ for the ones who wanna understand
that as I turn the page…
on this new age…
while i’m no sage…
I refused to be abused…
in my kaleidoscopic cage.
Shed some skin my friend!
For goodness sake I know you want it
You’re standing on your side looking at the line
Wishing to mean the things you see,
Just confront it
You’re stuck, you’re sinking
I feel sorry for your principled way of thinking
Pity me and the space I hold
I’m powerful, I’m me,
You, supposing envy in your imagined cuckold
You stand there on your side
Praising broken records
And reusing towels to dry
Your sopping wet hot dreams of the you, you need to be
Are suffocating you in a blindsided form of misery
I look at you with love
I promise you this
But I’m not sorry to say
I no longer can sustain this hiss
All the words you hold me to
All the things I’ve said
All cling to the questioning righteousness you project on cue
Are all now reflected in your soiled soul, my friend
Get out of there and taste the air
Try and release that point of view
Stop proving to me you care
There are greater things than you
For me to do
your hands man
scooping what’s left between flesh and cage
your warmth defying any sign of young age
this love is as beautiful as our youth ever might be
as a shadow cast along a horizon lit sea
you are mine
tonight and forever through morning
these lines man
thickening and dark as my face breaks and wares
your eyes see through it all
biting through the lace to shake and share
everything you see me to be as I see you
two swollen souls suck in to cure the daily remorse of evaporated dew
this day will change me but
I’m planning on crumbling by you
fuck you, I do
I’ve been loving u a long time
I think you could be the man of my dreams
Flatter yourself, please
I’ve been waiting for u a long time
asking Ma when my one should come
"love will feel easy when you find that one"
this morning when we woke
prematurely in our cacoon
we stuck, we clung, we were here
then Time beckoned us to leave
to start the day and part our ways
to long, I’ll sing, till you are near
I can wait though
my Beating Heart, it’s everclear
if ever I won’t have you
I cringe, I can’t forsee
what life could be like without your fingers placing me
between the nook of our breath
no pain will you ever inhale
this me, you allow, cusps the cliff towards death
yet we still dance unsteady
forgiven first loves fear forsaken hearts gone stale.
if ever I won’t need you
I gasp with ironed lungs
Curse the day that led me to resent our parting ways
along this path I bow to songs of you yet unsung
I make no sense to the ones who’ve spent time adoring over me
Some spit ceremoniously
Other people choose not to dance w me at the record party
And while everyone’s so worried
To make up their minds
While time whistles to wind down, it sighs
“You let your shadow intervene
You passed up the chance of not being seen.”
Let youth lead the way
Let it shine on east
Our sunset years
Are dawning near
Quicker than a wondering beast humming winter tales
Of old fashioned weather hymns that never last.
Snow never stays.
“You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering.”
How can I so easily be sure in my uncertainty?
Might this be delusion, fear or fantasy?
I do know this though:
When you’re near I’ll squeeze
Before I ever let go
Cause when I eventually show myself and face the Sunday,
Without you I’ll grow faint, you know
Even though, I know I can’t stay.
If I do, we won’t sustain
We cant live forever in all in one day.
Do you wish I was blind,
Thresheld by your lies,
Trembling at your shoe size?
Cause you’re bigger
And much grander than I…
Don’t you worry, look up!
She’s in the sky.
She lives upstairs
(The woman that I love)
In some golden durn eternity of dreams.
If you wake her, I fear she’ll never stay.
So Ill let her drift away…
Baba: Did my secretary not deliver my message?
Gram: What message?
Baba: I wasn’t sure you went on vacation… Found a man…
Gram: I did! I did find a man.
Baba: Who is he?
Gram: An occupational therapist.
Baba: I’m so glad you finally found somebody.
Gram: We do exercises together.
Baba: How far do you go?
Gram: All the way!
Gram: When they come to my house I lock the door… They can’t get out.
Baba: Its like a roach motel!
I wrote an e-mail to Nicky Kraft and got a little carried away…
So here’s the thing about Patti. Her last name is Harty but it used to be Fischer. She was Mama’s best friend. They used to smack tennis balls across the court together, formlessly. Patti was really good at math and Mama sucked at math. It always sounded much more enormous than what it was. Anyway, they had a third bff and her name was Lisa: the most beautifulest woman in the world! She had olive skin and green eyes. Mama always said she grabbed the eye of every boy that beheld her. They were a trio of beautiful Midwesterners, all three were Jewish but in every subtle way possible.
One summer, the three girls had parted: Patti went away to summercamp and my Mama had made the big move to California so that maybe her parents could work things out. Lisa came out to visit Mama and kept begging to return earlier to St. Louis with her but my Mama reminded her that she’d be flying back to St. Louis for Grandpa Hyman + Grandma Dorothy’s 50 year wedding anniversary two weeks later… she’d see her then. Soon after Lisa returned, she and a car full of teenagers were hit by a drunk driver… Mommy always said she “would’ve been in that car.” Patti got the phone call at camp… Idk her story.
Patti was always close to me because Mama remembered her to be close. Unfortunately, ultimately, life busied up between them. Patti would come out to California for work or to play tennis and she would always drop by and cuddle in bed with my mom. I remember the two of them distinctly, sitting propped up against provincial drapes and mustard floral duvets, barefoot, giggling. Patti’s smile has similar beam quality to my Mama’s. The two of them were forever young.
I flew home the Thursday night, before the Sunday when Mama died. I had three days of reconciliations and liberations and songs and kisses so somehow that iron Mama of mine was able to wait for me. I was flattered and honored yet not in the least bit surprised. Suddenly people from all paths of Mommy’s life were pouring in from hemispheres after seas: she was waiting for everybody, actually.
The Saturday before the Sunday Mama passed was the hottest, most vicious and anxious day of our lives: she was going… And the Universe collapsed into that Cedars Sinai hospital room when I checked my inbox and there was a message from Patti: "Hannah,
You are beautiful and look just like your mom. I am trying to get in touch with her and hope to see her in June.. I am going to be in la.”
I told her to call me. She was shocked. She booked her flight to LA for the next morning.
Sunday, when Mama died in the evening, she had climbed a stairway to heaven before all of our eyes and held on with every crackled breath. I didn’t know then, but I know now, she wanted to give that last moment to my father. She was too proud of her life. What were a couple moments longer?
People shuffled in to apologize and idolize, all the while Cleo and my cousin Allie brushed blush on her cheeks and put the pink pout back on her lips. I even got 30 minutes alone with her to sing to her: I told her I wanted her to be free. That defines me.
On her last day, Mama was not speaking, she was a near vegetable but her eyes pierced with comprehension at times and beams of pure subliminal light beheld me when they blinked. Patti arrived and the sea of criers parted. Mama couldn’t believe she had come. I watched her eyes: she was so touched, Nicky! Patti was there the day it happened.
Thus, the events that transpired in sending Mama off are beyond my capacity at this point. Someday, I’ll tell you everything.
But what I learned from Patti was something that changed my life forever: Mama didn’t belong to me. She belonged to so many.
A man and his dog on the Overhanging Rock in Yosemite National Park, May 1924.Photograph by Educational-Bruce Photograph
prose filled up with woes
sung to the sound of the wind blowing by
pass the vinyards of seedless, soundless growth
to eventually climb liberty like sycamores,
placing her face upon every branch crusted door
so I’ll hustle north and tackle forth towards
an endless ether draped up sherbert sky.
ferocious day bent
by cloud blessed wonders
attack me and shake me
into a blister hearted ponder
that’s what happens when I’m left alone
to watch the day break into pieces of light and day
I just want to watch it all pass me by
instead of counting paperclips
and remembering a year since last May
broken hearts are bleeding
they pulse to continue receding
into a place where all men eventually end
finding comfort, among many others knowing:
stitched up love bruises will never truly mend