Dear Missoula

Dear Missoula

Your service at my table

Was friendly and worthy

Of a closer time

A few kisses and the pleasures

Of our bodies

We fell in love 

I held those memories

With me all these years

I hope we are lonely

And worthy of the remainder

Of our lives together

Yes, this is my proposal

Neither of us will be young

We will have kept our memory

All these long years

I hope the years have treated

You with respect and you survived

All the trials that came our way

All the losses we felt.

All the hurt of our separation

Please come to me

Give up what you have

To share the little I have

Where I cannot leave

Write me now

Believe in my love

Barry G. Wick

Going Under

Going Under

Are these waves

Nothing about them is wet

They are full of memory

As painful as it gets

I'm reminded of guys

I knew years ago

Remembering every one

Their special qualities

I lose them at every step

Whether by their action

Or my telling them to go

My reasons were always

My family who would disapprove

I never thought for myself

My life didn't belong to me

So all I'm left with is sad memory

My later years alone

It's all my fault

This negativity continues

This emptiness is in charge

I can't step forward

What would they think

Who would I be

There's no profit

There's no benefit

Illusions continue to pile

As I tell myself I'm happy

Insert laughing here

Barry G. Wick

Pine Bark

Pine Bark

As a child

I was drawn

To the largest beings

In my neighborhood

The ponderosa pines

They lined my trail to school

They held a tree house

Made with injurious nails

Burned in our fireplace

Railings for a fence

Sitting next to one

I could peel  pieces

Of bark full of tiny holes

Pink and white underneath

The darkened and weathered

Surface chipped away

With a child's fingers

Little did I realize

Life would strip my bark from me

I was so strong and tall

Standing against the violent sky

The trees of the hill where I lived

Are still there so faraway

Their bark now seems

The softest skin̈

As I reach out to their motherhood

Barry G. Wick

Flakes

Flakes

Snow falls on an uncleaned porch

Kids knock to offer service

With their shovels

I have no money

To pay their price

Later

Opening the door

still snowing

The porch would have been

Recovered

Who would charge

To remove the new snow

I wait for the sun

Luckily still free

But you can bet

Someone tries to charge

For the open space to sun

LIke they do for the machinery

That cleans the streets

After the snow flies

Ah, the layers of government

In service of the economy

That won't send boys

To shovel my ramp

But who would visit me

And where would I go

The boys who want money

Would charge me for their use

Of my snow covered porch 

That no one will visit until

Until

I don't know when

Barry G. Wick

Death

Death

There is no rest in death

It takes effort to never breathe 

Just try to stop decay

It's terribly tiring

Then there's the dark

Provided your body was found

And coffinated 

Can you believe it

There are people who want

To be dead

Decoffinated

They accept being turned

Into ash

Ash

Then it's death as cement

Or some kind of clay fixture

Here's uncle Bob

He became a statue of Venus

Well he always was that way

He just loved shiny silk and such

Some go to space

It wasn't enough to be dead on earth

I suppose they couldn't take

The constant tears and wails

Having given some thought

I want to be loved by dogs

Where they leave their excrement

On some grassy ground

Chasing a ball

And maybe just maybe

Chewing on my bones

Barry G Wick

The intruding world

The intruding world

Here comes another bill

For healthcare needs

Another shock

When after fears

Of losing leg

Became a scream

To wake up to the

Last of life

The last days

The last week's unsure

It's just today buster

It's just now

When all I want is silence

The silence of Ramana Maharshi

When these words written

Or spoken or thought

Fail to live the way I do

Inside

Barry G. Wick

Grey Day

Grey Day

Sitting staring

The window spotted

A screen blotted here

This is a wait

For any change

In a darkened sky

Winters finger

In your eye

Barry G. Wick

Snow

Snow

Large flakes of snow

Fall on Iowa

These are reminders

Of the flakes of ash

That fell on Nagasaki

I feel their heat

As I wonder why

This comes to mind

Is it history

Or a forecast 

Of the fires to come

Barry G. Wick

Too late to love

Too late to love

Now photos take me

Into the stream of love

From the past 

Visible to the world

Two images find me

Wishing for the hearts

Of two men

One an indigenous man

In his decorations

And breechcloth

The other a cowboy

From earlier times

Neither would look twice

At me if we'd met

Both years dead

I see them now

With love 

After this no living man

Will hug or kiss me

Knowing photos

Have captured my dreams

I would toss them all away

For any man to hold my hand

Barry G. Wick

Dance

Dance

We have to dance even if we sway

In our wheeled chairs

We have to sing even if we just hum

We have to know art

Even if we only feel sculpture or

Touch a wall hanging made of rope

With tin cans full of dents

Many feelings fall from us

The fruits that grow

From the rain of lìfe

Barry G. Wick