Taking Stock

My son, an aspiring poet still searching his footing, happened on the last few days of conversation in the “comments” tributaries, and slipped this light note under my door, before setting out for a bike-ride:

Here’s to wonder,
(not a smidgeon of sorrow)
 the river of words floating by,
yielding things, worlds, moods,
wisdom disjoint, unexpected,
sometimes a bit of chop,
reflections of sky
and glimpses of deep fish,
a face (is it mine?)
now and again altering,
and the faces of others
now here, now there,
then just the amble of stream
once more and again,
moments of home
on the move . . . disaggregated


6 comments on “Taking Stock

  1. Catlin Lowe says:

    Dear Ed– Would love to repost this, but not without your son’s permission and full name. Please give my compliments to the poet. And let me know? C.

    • efmooney says:

      Catlin, you’ve caught me red handed and in a blush; my son is me, and of course repost, and don’t ask me why I needed cover (at first — don’t mind it being blown now, now that I learn the words got through). By the way, my son (he’s real) is named Kailen, Catlin, I kid you not — I loved the Dylan Thomas-y sound. He’s not a poet but studies alpine bugs and plants, seeing how they do and don’t get along, at 10,000 feet in Colorado in a town called Gothic (kid you not) just south over the pass from Aspen — half of Thoreau inhabits him. And — another thing, off-blog, as it were — a friend has a journal coming out July 1st of a literary-philosophical mien. He interviewed me, and wanted to interview you. If you’re interested, hunt down my email, or Matthew Gasda’s, and something might happen. –Ed

      • Catlin Lowe says:

        Laughing: This is so like something I would do.
        But what chutzpah to write of a son when you’ve actually got one! Kailen: Good name. You must be terribly in love with him.
        Alpine ecology in a town called Gothic: Surely someone is bidding on the musical rights.
        I love the poem. And I love the (Emersonian) ambition to give birth to your next self in writing. (To find words both seminal and pregnable, to be both seminal and pregnable.)
        Will send you a private note about this interview. All my best, C.

  2. dmf says:

    lovely ed, you can be your own trinity; father, son, and muse

    I have no never-again, I have no always. In the sand
    victory abandoned its footprints.
    I am a poor man willing to love his fellow men.
    I don’t know who you are. I love you. I don’t give away thorns,
    and I don’t sell them.

    Maybe someone will know that I didn’t weave crowns
    to draw blood; that I fought against mockery;
    that I did fill the high tide of my soul with truth.
    I repaid vileness with doves.

    I have no never, because I was different—
    Was, am, will be. And in the name
    of my ever-changing love I proclaim a purity.

    Death is only the stone of oblivion.
    I love you, on your lips I kiss happiness itself.
    Let’s gather firewood. We’ll light a fire on the mountain.

    Pablo Neruda

  3. Ishmael says:

    All I can say is, it’s about time your wonderful phrases were broken into lines. Actually, I have a sneaking suspicion there’s big file on your desktop full of such gems. I hope you lay them out soon!

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