David, a poem for David Franks

David

david-franks-pix-from-the-net-sm

collaged images from the net david franks, poet, baltimore

I’m not your
beast
I’m not your
priest
I’m not your
feast
I’m not your
Chicago
Your New Orleans
Your vibrato.
I’m not your anything
I’m just a memory
of a non-mammary
I’m not even that
I’m the exact thistle
in an objectionable plant
of this state.
Waiting to cast my prickles
all over the place.
And if I see your face
I’ll say David
how you’ve aged
and so have I
but I am not
your Goliath
I don’t like
to be hit
by pits
of prunes
or anything
no matter how trumped up
how old
how folded up & presented
like a Valentine
I’m not anything
but the separation of skulls
across the great divide
a broken tether between
that could be singing sweetly
of times that might have been.
The sweetest thing of all
is what is lost
the imagined
that never came true
because things as they are
are so rudely present.
Thank heavens
for all the great
might have beens.
We think about them
tomorrow.

love, larry / from Creator Tricks, poems written in 1996

For a myriad postcards sent to me from David go here!

David died January 14th, 2010. I believe he was born in 1944 or ’45 since I was working on his Touch here in Placitas and published it in 1966. He was living in Placitas and one of Robert Creeley’s students.

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico

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About larry goodell

Poet, voice theater, open space for others, helping hands, sensual paradise here on earth reinvigorated by organic gardening, spirits of New Mexico dancing....
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