Tuesday, May 02, 2006


Last week, I dined with D. at a side-street cafe with pink and white flowers raining down onto the pavement. We sipped our beers and talked in the way I do with my siblings whenever I get to be alone with them--deep and drifting thoughts. A fluid exchange of ideas...We walked blocks of his chosen hometown in Philadelphia and I felt myself caught up in some Walt Whitman-esque dream where "the press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections" (Song of Myself). Whitman died in Camden, after all, just a breath away from where I stood.

In my most vivid memories with D.--it is Summer, always Summer. Spent by any body of water we could reach by car...or the neighborhood pool, the nearby creeks, the spit of a stream in the woods we believed then really was a river.



Blogger Shannon E. said...

What a beautiful sentiment to liquid. I appreciate your creativity and I am still struggling on my own.


3:42 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh I loved this. What wonderful childhood memories of brown rivers and spit streams...beautiful and perfect!

4:24 PM  
Blogger deirdre said...

What a loving gift for your brother and a wonderful gift back in his appreciation.

9:40 PM  
Blogger D. said...

Yeah I guess water always did find a way into our day's somehow; good memories... I still have that gift of your's along w/ all the other things you've wrote and allowed me to retain a copy. Good to get some time to hang out last week. Love ya.

9:23 PM  
Blogger justjohanna said...

deep resonance. you make me homesick for philadephia. for ocean city. for those very gritty urban streets. i too have given poetry - sometimes even bad poetry - as a gift. but mostly i hoard it for myself and don't let anyone see.

12:48 AM  
Blogger Bohemian Girl said...

your gift is the absolute best kind.

i did the same for my husband once and to this day, it is still his favorite gift.

beautiful poem, my friend...just beautiful.

and thank you for sharing your day with us. you described it so well, so fluidly that i felt i was there.

1:39 AM  
Blogger Jennifer said...

the writing/memory, the photograph and the poem together made me pause and just sit for a second. i went back after reading the poem and looked at the photograph again and it all meant even more. really soft, beautiful words to your brother.


1:24 PM  

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