by Michael P. Garofalo
Stepping On to Pleasures
Grown old I groan
At times so stiff and sore
But not stopping, stepping on,
Walking past the pains to gain
Another epiphany before the rains.
Step by step the breath
Finds a pleasant pace
By the third mile, I smile,
Feet flowing, arms swaying,
Warmed with eyes wide
Trees slide by, doves coo,
Awe opens then closes - no clues.
My pace slowly slows
Avoiding holes in the road;
Filling the unconscious crevasses of my mind
With pleasures deep and kind.
By and by, it's done, I'm saying
"Such a benefit, and beguiled."
I now rest, content.
- Michael P. Garofalo, 5/13/2014
his wife died, he unraveled
emptied my wallet―
The Nakedness of the Ununique
Being ourselves is mostly public and a little
most is known;
Exposed to ourselves and others,
little is hidden;
Sharing the same world,
our limits are revealed;
Being entirely the past and a slice of the present,
everything is recycled and our histories are unavoidably written;
Using eyes like billions of creatures,
little goes unseen;
Sharing the fate of everyone,
our deaths are public;
Our uniqueness is grounded in sameness,
our genera are catalogued, our species specified;
Speaking and using the same languages,
always out loud with others, impossible privately;
Surrounded by families and friends,
An open book,
very few secrets itching to be told;
Coming out of the closet,
just the naked flabby truth;
Hidden treasures unearthed, unboxed,
opened in brightly lit museum walls.
Is there something
that others don't or can't
know, talk about, see, tell, or reveal?
If so, if so,
it must be precious,
hidden deep in the black hole of my soul
dug up from the compost of my memories,
something so special
that even I am unsure if it is really real
without showing or sharing with others.
But, yes, yes, Multiplicity and Complexity and
Open the door to privacy, exclusivity, aloneness, uniqueness.
Trivial perceptions from my point of view,
beyond the bother of naming.
Private definitions of gnomes and gods,
personal understandings filtered by my stupidities,
wishful thinking, homespun illusions and delusions,
innumerable bodily feelings even I have long forgotten,
meaningless visions drowned in the sea of practical matters,
hidden wishes squandered on realities.
Open and closed, within and without, naked and
Plenty of Both.
- Michael P. Garofalo, 12/15/2014
Poems from 2014
Index to Poems by Michael P. Garofalo
Green Way Research, Red Bluff, California