Monday, July 18, 2011


Sometimes you get stuck so you start looking at older stuff to see if that was any good. I don't know if this one is. I think it's okay, but I can't figure out what would make it better...

I dreamt about my grand—

father last night.

He trembled oddly

as he hugged me. I thought

perhaps it was because

of his age, but

he seemed no older

than I ever knew him.

He was still sturdy,

round and wearing


I’d call him Grandpa

Malcolm if I had another

who shared his title;

just like I had a Grandma

Marie and

Grandma June.

But there was never a reason

to do the same for him.

And when he died

I stopped talking

about him altogether.

Not that I spoke

of him much in his


But I’m certain

there’s something bringing

him back. Because I

never knew him, never

received his sagely

advice, I must have

called for his hug

in some way.