As the years wash out to sea,
The shores of our lives eroding away,
We witness the mountains of rock,
Like our memories of you, Continue reading “In Memory of Others”
Where Were the Birds?
Today Carol and I enjoyed a picnic at the place where Patrick died.
As with flesh, our stone cairn, built in May, had collapsed, the program lost. We built it again, restored the New Yorker to the pile, added a flower, posed for pictures beside it.
Yesterday We Were Eight
There, wadded up in the pocket of Patrick’s bathrobe, hanging in Ivonne’s closet, in the Old Town, on the island he so loved, were his suspenders.
Memories surfaced: His dapper look, bearing his age with dignity and class.
New memories emerged: Packing the boxes, sorting out the things people wanted, the things to donate; sending shoes to one sister, shirts to another, sweaters to both; delivering to Ivonne the robe and that set of braces. Continue reading “Yesterday We Were Eight”
Verderol at Ca’s Patró March
Sitting at a long table with strangers, the sea is particularly blue, placidly blue, vividly blue, the blue of Donna’s fancy glasses or Solan water bottles. Continue reading “Verderol at Ca’s Patró March”
Farewell on Sullivan Street 1960 (by Patrick)
we won’t let you go!
tackling me at the knees.
gretchen is laughing
at this new game with daddy.
jennifer is older and cries
her mother’s panicked eyes
telling her it’s no joke
with my books bundled in twenties
i lash myself down the stairs,
toss them into the vw bug and drive mari
to our roach-infested
love nest.
tenth street is a bongo jungle
where we live in sweet rhythmic sin,
joy swirling behind us
as we race toward the tawdry
end so surely up the road.
their arms hobble me yet,
though i now bundle my years
by the quarter century
and still await, with dread,
the accumulating tears.
Deya 2006
On This Gray and Peaceful Day (by JP)
On this gray and peaceful day
The fields beside the apartment have been turned.
The bleating sheep evacuated
In favor of simple earth. Continue reading “On This Gray and Peaceful Day (by JP)”
My Father’s Voice
My sister Jennifer Meador wrote a lovely poem called My Father’s Voice which we read at the Spanish memorial service. However, she has now blocked her web site so that you can no longer access it. Fortunately, it was included in the memorial program so you can find it there if you wish.
Soisolas No 2
Patrick wrote Soisolas No 2 for Ivonne in 2015. It’s a moving piece, so sweet we elected to include it in the memorial program. Continue reading “Soisolas No 2”
Oh, Stephanie
Here’s an unpublished poem I wrote for my father after Stephanie passed away. Continue reading “Oh, Stephanie”
She of Clouds and Flowers
This is an unpublished poem written for Stephanie in 2004 by JPMD and shared with her before she died. Continue reading “She of Clouds and Flowers”