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Every holiday

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Every holiday

            rings      a      bell
Strikes a chord                            of good                         or evil memories

Reinforces ramparts or accelerates decay

Lightens or darkens eyes

Answers questions formed in the confines of blood and union

Swirls and wafts its way through a host of
nerves bound tightly enough to make the world spin

*********—******************—-**

This poem is dedicated to Wray.
Wray’s daddy got drunk on Christmas Eve and shot up in the sky to kill Santa Claus.

Fortunately I have great memories except for spending last Christmas in the hospital with Mom.
Can’t really say that it was bad though because she is still with us.

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About wherearetheheros

just someone my mother might know

5 responses »

  1. sounds like “carefree highway” which sounds like “every highway”

    every holiday
    carefree holiday

    let me slip away
    slip away on you

    ha ha ha

    Reply
  2. 1973: even without prompting, there comes this review, these little homeless fragments and vignettes. Had the first of today before reading this, most times they take my breath away, I think they are riding home, and they come and I receive them. A chance to be like a parent to that prodigal child. I get to see and to welcome, no matter how bedraggled or done, the rest of me, increasingly able to tend the fire and the table of return.

    Reply
  3. The dedication sounds like it could form some more poems. I’m glad Wray’s daddy missed and that your mom is still with you. 🙂

    Reply

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