Poetry - Chez Goodman 
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our parents
now smile with
our daughter's face

- Mar 29, 2002

answers we once sought
we now give our child
the tree replaces the seed

- Mar 29, 2002

the bee sat sated
seeking no pollen
good teachers give no answers

- Mar 29, 2002

the golden sun sank
with the buzzing of
hummingbirds now sharing space

- Mar 29, 2002

Bicycles stay balanced
        moving forward;
Is that why I've
                  Sept 12, 99

The net is a capricious thing. One night, after being disconnected several times while trying to chat online with a friend, I wrote this cheery little missive:

365 Deaths a Year

Fallen dominos

I die 365 times a year,
 more in a leap,
  every night the cessation of sensation
   and the prayer for renewed sight in the morning.

I die 24 hours a day,
 60 times an hour, 60 times a minute,
  every cusp the end of a me and a rebirth.

My life is that of dominoes... falling, falling, falling,
 imparting a spark of motion and direction to the next
  nearly identical monolith, destined to fall, its only
   saving grace its impact on the next, until

the next domino is too far, too misaligned, and it falls
 flat, unable to continue the noisy clackety-clack of
  making it from one touch to the next.

I live so long as I continue to keep falling, one foot after
 the other, one domino nudging the next, maintaining the promise
  of the one before, and relying on the honor of the next.

The ticky-ticky of my life seems so slow at the moment of contact,
 so quick in memory of the rhythm of falling slabs,
  so fearful of silence if the last one falls
   with no other dominoes set in motion.

Fifteen thousand deaths, and how many left?
 Will the chatterings set in motion survive my silence?
  I turned 40 this year.

Dave Goodman

Copyright © 2004 David K. Goodman. All Rights Reserved.
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