Thinking of my brother Tom on his birthday. Time moves on. — kenne
Thomas R. Turner, May 23, 1942 – November 13, 2014 — Image by kenne
Standing above me in Smith’s
Awkwardly looking down through a clipped hesitancy
Our lives came together.
From within, mutually canceling
Vignettes of naturalness and gender-cliche.’
She kissed through closed lips of
Pristine openness.
Innocently I loved.
After my return from the war
I stepped into a world of Kafkaesque embraces; yearning . . .
Paled with particular sensations
I was momentarily blinded.
I could taste the t.s. eliot peach that I dared to eat.
Looking at you the way you love the first person
Whoever touched you
And never quite that way again
I savored my idea of you but missed the obvious.
Paradoxes betray the limits of logic
Not of the reality, we shared.
Your “passion” was stillborn through so dame necessary.
The aesthetics of my artifice went against the grain:
Recreation, utilitarian…
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Becoming is Superior to Being 
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