Posted in Growing up/old, Memory Lane

In Memoriam: Craig, aka Antiguo, 3.15.51-7.15.06

Memorial Day Weekend 2005 (1)

“No matter how hard I try

No matter how many tears I cry

No matter how many years roll by

I still can’t say good-bye”

(J. Moore)

2. Everywhere


I thought I’d lost you. But you said I’m imbued


in the fabric of things, the way

that wax lost from batik shapes

the pattern where the dye won’t take.

I make the space around you,


and so allow you shape. And always

you’ll feel the traces of that wax

soaked far into the weave:

the air around your gestures,


the silence after you speak.

That’s me, the slight wind between

your hand and what you’re reaching for;

chair and paper, book or cup:


that close, where I am: between

where breath ends, air starts.


(Mark Doty)

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Author:

I've been doing some form of creative writing since 9th grade, and have been a blogger since 2003. Like most bloggers, I've quit blogging multiple times. But the words always come back, asking to be written down, and they pester me if I don't. So here we are. Thanks for reading.

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