Tuesday, January 29, 2019

I read to Tim now


poetry mostly
words mysterious
seeping into spaces
between the cancer
where he still is                 Tim

I am the curator choosing
Frost and
Oliver
and Williams
                and Epp

and we gather up the filaments of  40 years
this way
slippery and delicate in our hands

our friendship
inexpressible
writers teachers singers
sports fans
sons fathers husbands men of faith
lovers of the
mystery of words

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