for lamar odom

If I wrote about you it wouldn't be true.

Poetry seldom is. I remember Eric Dolphy. Bukowski. Crane. All feeling sick.

None surrounded by w****s.

if you mix up the names, scramble the rooms,

in time,

before you tire of sameness. before all momentary

want scurries away to pain alone; performs their

endless pirouettes and you,

asleep to all of this. The ringing. The ringing.

I had an uncle who was unconscious in the center of the room.

Then he woke up un-forgetting the dullest sounds or the highest

Kardashian cries. Just sat up in his bed, his back against

plush pillows.

These are some crazy times to want love: Rest. Charm.

That striving human existence that even

dwindling dreams cant cure.

Reviews

[m.s.early]

Write it all down. Wrap it up. Seal it with a kiss. We'll lie like a secret kiss and call it what it is.

[h d e rushin]

they tell us that he will never be the same person....But who is ever the same person..Thanks x...dana

[writing mojo]

I wonder if his coma had images of color or black and white...what if he comes back and talks of this light at the end of a tunnel is just a super star supernova. Tibetan monks described the landscape of the moon through astrology projection before telescopes where invented.. that silver cord between life and after life can do some weird s**t..I remember in meditation after a night of serious stuff..I saw my body from an aerial view..it scared the s**t out of me, so I got sucked back in..never again did I try that s**t..now i just want to try, just once try and fly one of those expensive drones circling the capital and rig it to throw pies at the Kardashian dynasty as they exit their home in b***h faced fashion to check with agents on their ratings in media peaks and crashes.. I can't stand that family! great perspective

[h d e rushin]

thank you brother...I cant stand that family either. They should be just ashamed of themselves rather than having a reality TV show..And what reality is that anyway that there espousing?
Just w****s, who can never be believed. Not about love. Not about money....dana

[W.k.kortas]

It's funny, but the first thing I think of the all-too-familiar repartee between Fitzgerald and Hemingway over how the rich are different. I suspect, as you have wisely noted, that having the means to drop five figures on a multi-day, multi-w***e romp doesn't exempt one from tedium, from loneliness, from the empty times when the game finally quits you, from the times when"all monetary/want scurries away to pain alone". Strip away the fame-w***e wife, the championship rings, and LO is like the rest of us--just a man, with demons that don't give two s***s about your cash on hand.

[h d e rushin]

I heard that he sold all of his houses. W***e's have a way of making you do that. I just hope he
read moreI heard that he sold all of his houses. W***e's have a way of making you do that. I just hope he
can see what the rest of us sees...that poems written about you will not save you from yourself..
thank you my friend...dana

[jacob erin-cilberto]

interesting perspective...it's a tragedy when these things happen, and yet some just fall into the trap of never being satisfied and just overdose on anything and everything searching for something in a sky they will never reach, no matter what trip they take.

he is lucky to be alive...and hopefully will wake up now, in more ways than one.

[h d e rushin]

just a man with demons who can care less about the "who" you think you are....thanks brother...dana