Grandfather’s bred brotherWas a black leather Bible:Each day to heavenWas begun and endedBetween onion skin leaves. He boldly ledA life of SundaysOf rollicking sermonsAnd week-long revivals loudWith trombones and banjos:A leaping preacherWas his carnival:A joker who knocked them down,One to a ball. (Never a nightFewer than a hundredRolled down the aislesTo the altar.) But now (more)
My love, I know that I have been a clown, And, bending with a rose in hand, no claim To formal loving should I have again; I know, who never knew before, the sound That rain makes kissing the dark before It tumbles to the earth and breaks in crowns, That you are painting beauty (more)
(Memory is many long mirrors) Corridor mirrors reflecting doors Quietly opening and then Noiselessly closing, Letting wet hats and faces In from the rain. (Memory is everything Silently Forever Occurring in mirrors) Closet doors open; Closet mirrors twist a smile and face With a great arm telescoped to the knob. A (more)
Here’s one of Patrick’s poems from An Anthology of Verse: FSU: 1954-1955 by George, Pat, Donna, David, and Regina.
Here’s a newspaper announcement about Patrick receiving a college scholarship. I’ll embed it as an image and also offer a link to the original PDF he sent me. Thanks to Lee for digging this up. Scholarship Announcement (PDF)