Tag Archives: Memory

Untitled Poem

One time I thought one thing mattered and that thing gave way, gave way like a diving board pulled from the diver when she was to spring to highest heights, it gave way like that to something else, this other … Continue reading

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Black Is Blue

Tonight it hit me that what is in memory, what is old, what fed my imagination (for better, etc) when I was 18, would comfort me. I was right. I turned on an episode of Miami Vice. Some would say … Continue reading

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This Climb Does Not End

If I had a Sunday morning off while I was a surgery resident, it felt like Christmas and my birthday every time. They did not come often. I worked over 100 hours/week and was on call either every third or … Continue reading

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24 Minutes Plus Six For Commercials

I don’t wonder so much now how I grew up thinking that life was going to be for me as it was for Steve McGarret (played by Jack Lord, actually born John Joseph Patrick Ryan–that’s three cool names) on Hawaii … Continue reading

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Goes Away

It’s moving away. I t   i   s . The time I thought I had, I had that time, but I don’t think of it that way when I want more… time, I mean. The time I have “used” … Continue reading

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I Saw This (for Phil)

He’s 5, Chuck Taylor’s on his feet, before they were hip, when they were still just white shoes on a white boy, walking through the hood. He is kicking the can when that was still the name for ‘tag’. He … Continue reading

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Jeep

Hand over hand straight to left A thousand hands, wheel too hot to touch, an noon, on Wake or Saipan. A thousand might be millions, The miles from home or to the next shore; or lost friends or enemies. Comfort … Continue reading

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See Through You

Sunday morning is the right time for North Beach across the bridge from Corpus Christi. Sunday morning brings the truth to a place full of Saturday night fantastical absurdities fueled and created and sustained, desperately, by whatever the drug of … Continue reading

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Cow

My family is spread to the four corners of the country. 4 kids, four corners. One in Oregon, one in NYC, one in Cleveland, one in South Texas, in a prison. We learned from our parents, who fled Ireland for … Continue reading

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Summertime

I would sit somewhere, quiet, always alone and think to myself: This second. I am never going to forget, this second. I would try to put that moment onto some prominent, mural in my memory so I could remember it … Continue reading

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