Friday, 17 August 2012

Harry Calhoun

And I Say

And she asks me, falling asleep in my arms,
“Where will we be when both of us die?”

And I say, “We’ll find each other and be together
somehow.” And of course she says that makes no sense.

And I say, “Neither does any major religion.”
And this goes on a while, as it has for the ages.

Alan Watts said, “Belief is clinging. Faith is letting go.”
I am somewhere in the middle now, clinging to her,

letting go of the fear of losing her
on this small and sometimes choiceless world.

And I say, to myself I guess, I never want to give this up.
I want to wake next to her every morning.

And this goes on a while, as it has for the ages.

Harry Calhoun has had work published in various poetry journals over the past 30 years. His books and chapbooks include I knew Bukowski like you knew a rare leaf, The Black Dog and the Road, and Retreating Aggressively into the Dark. Recently, he has had two Pushcart nominations, a Sundress Best of the Net nomination and publications in Chiron Review, Abbey, Orange Room Review, Gutter Eloquence, Lily and others. 2012 has seen the limited-edition chapbook Maintenance and Death and the collection of poems from the ‘80s and ’90s called Retro from Propaganda Press.