POEM FOR JESS
I have inherited a kingdom of nothing
& I would and do share this with you
as the great gift. To turn in bed,
turning again, tracing the morning glories
up the cable wire, chasing cats up and down
the apartment, piling clothes
by the front door. It’s your birthday
soon (7 months) and mine in a few days.
I will be half 70, looking for my merits
In standing procedure, resting on the
Couch with my favorite accoutrements,
Books and papers piled in all the rooms,
Guitars falling through the corners
And shaky hands picking out the
Melodies. Opening the blinds and waking
up in comfort, waking again and again,
balanced and tottering, in regard,
seamfully and porously contented and coiled
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