Dear Lewis,
Today you are 64.

I picked the tulips to frame as they hold the dearest memories. I think I chose well.

It is a beautiful morning. The light is soft, just as you liked. Angles and colours, filtered by trees out the bedroom window. The curtains moving in a puff of air.

Year II

Ok so it has been awhile since I entered anything.
I thought I would try and see how long it would take until I talked with you again. Seems the day you ceased to exist. A day I helped to decide is the time I need to talk with you again.

It started with my awakening twice last night being strangled. A good way to capture my attention. Then the phone was tuned to your face twice. Then finally I heard you yelling at me to buy lotto tickets. I hate buying tickets. I hated that you spent so much money on losing. But I understood how much it was a part of the illusion that kept you going.

I saw the sun in a blur at sixish. I held your hand. I felt your warmth.

Roses are red
Violets are Blue
Lewis I still Love you.

Cosmic Justice

Today my sweet you would have been sixty three years of age. So Happy Birthday!

I think you tried to play a trick on me by skunking Boo at six this morning... I spent my morning washing away the odour.
Yes, I remember the skunk we had living under the porch in Mattapoisett. We fed him for three years. A very polite skunk, never a scent. Just a couple of frights late at night when we came home. The white streak humping around the back gate.
Anyway the cosmic joke on you, is that Boo still smells and he is sleeping under the bed next to you! HA


Still miss you every day.

24 years

Twenty four years ago at this time we were standing ready. Waiting for the last of the few people we had invited to join us. Though it would have made little difference if no one was there as we only had eyes for each other. The candles were lit. My shoes were new and slippery. You looked wonderful in your tails.
So as I write this I walked down the aisle to you and we listened to the minister say something...
We followed the words but spoke to each others hearts. We knew we were to be together until death parted us.
Last year at this time I could hardly breathe. This year I cried as I put on your robe. But the tears were fewer. I still miss you. I still wonder why?
I remain blessed in knowing you and being part of your story.
I do.

Revival

Happily the Bleeding Heart I planted for you last year has bloomed.

Prajnaparamita Sutra

Gone,gone
to the other
shore...Knowledge crosses from this side going
to that phenomenal world, that other
bank of perfect
wisdom.

Reviewing

Tonight marks the years time of your last words to me. "You chose wisely"

I have missed you every day. Some much more than others.
Some people allow me to talk about you, others are so uncomfortable. Some just want me to move in their direction. I feel a push back, an unwillingness to let you go.
Last moon I found myself crying. Never sure how I deal with the emotions of being without you. I resolve to bury your ashes. Then I think how do I manage without your strength holding me up?

I will continue to fill champagne bottles with your poetry and your essence and send your message out to sea. Next week the armada will begin.

Before Valentine's Day

Lewis it's been awhile since I wrote. Sorry but have not felt like talking with you. Christmas and New Year was time in space. Now I have to cope with the time of the year that was the most special to us. I will truly miss my Valentine Flowers and funny cards. Still have trouble writing as so many things are not user friendly. I am still here...



Short review " Cezanne's Quarry" Barbara Corrado Pope Not as expected from title. Would have liked a bit more about the art and why the style. A bit slow but I made it through.

Thankgiving Day

After 14 years of going out to dinner and a movie, I spent the day in the kitchen. I knew going out would have caused more tears. I hope to watch the parade some day. I hope to watch a football game and not feel you next to me. I hope to be able to feel thankful.


The new addition to our favorites is mashed potatoes with onions and blue cheese.

Halloween and World Series

Lewis,
Had a very unhappy Halloween as I send cards out for the first time by myself. I did not get to sign Lewis and Martha. You did not send to your friends in the Poetry world " Zaj".
The small goblins are not going to have a basket full of goodies to choose from this year.


Your favorite sport has an interesting finale this year. Hope you are happy the Yankees didn't make it but neither did my Sox. I am not sure if I need to keep you posted or not. Or if you care about the daily stats in the cosmos.

Update Lewis

CBS Sunday Morning did such a puff piece on the Stinker of the House just 2 weeks before the election. You are probably having a great laugh. You know I do not normally watch this show but it was on and so I tried not to barf....

There is snow on the mountains pretty but why am I here?

I kicked you the other day. Felt good and guilty at the same time.
Still not one day goes by without love and hate for you popping up in many ways.

Writing is continuing to be slow and meager.

6 Months and Raining

Dear Lewis,

Today is the 6 month mark of your death. It is raining as is fitting. I feel like I have been on vacation from you for this time. I wonder when reality sets in?
I won after 30 tries on the 30th day.
I know you keep calling.

All my love always.
M

Happy Birthday Lewis.

Today you would have been 62.

I remember you telling me of your birth at Flower Fifth Ave. Hospital. How your mother and the doctor played cards waiting for you to arrive. As your father was overly nervous. But he celebrated the event by giving your mother a blue Caddy. The status sign of the 1940's.

You never were a big fan of memorializing the birth of someone long dead. As Public Radio does to honor the composers / poets of the day. But I want to have blog readers remember you and your wonderful words. Many are already on this blog so just read earlier posts.

Lewis Hammond Stone

I am having a blue day today.

You used to recite

roses are red
violets are blue
then you would fill in the blank
now I will add..
you have moved on
I truly miss you.

Poem found in box #1

lightning to strike us both
naked and a little saggier
our bodies flash
in brief grins of desperate light/
like snapshots of streakers
caught in defiance of sanity and custom/
while we suck and stroke
liver-spotted flesh/
that beholds welcome
drops of moisture
from a purple sky
that crackles with burnt showers
of ozone that fill our nostrils/
as your tongue washes
my cock under
the dark swaying trees/
where we hear magical sounds
which call us to
strange excitements/
while others hide/fearful
they would be seduced
by the spasm and roar/
just as Hemingway was/
as his jaws opened wide
and the cold metal barrel
must have felt so bloody
feverish like our sweaty skin
the last time/we danced
on a green slick carpet
no matter about skinned knees or elbows/
you reached behind
and I thrust in-
time to catch breathless phrases/
our lungs gasping
with voices that beg and repeat/
come/
come/
do not let me die//


Poem written in Mass after learning of a mass connected to the kidneys.

DREAMS

Last night, was the first night ever, that I saw you in my dreams. You have always been in my dreams but faceless, just a presence, a force. Last night I saw you in your green cable sweater your face your body shape, and I was grabbing for you trying to hang on the the cloth. I was screaming and crying don't leave me.

Tears on the Raspberries

As I was picking raspberries from the bushes in the backyard.I was thinking of you and our trip to Paris. We bought raspberries and cherries to share...

You wrote a couple of poems about the fruit and what it represented. As I was reminiscing I heard and then felt a few drops from the heavens. I was startled by the rain as the sky was cloudless.

So out of the blue you came to cry with me.

July 4th 2010

If you were here
you would be weeping
for your broken hearted dreams of country.
The pops songs, the drum beats, the cannonade
the glittering whistlers in the evening air. Would
cause tears to choke
your very breaths.
You left the country
you fought for
in your mind.
The proof of your
service, a whiff of
cordite in the breeze.

3 months a fiscal quater has passed

So you have been gone for 3 months today.
And I am angry.

The time and the visions are still clear sharp and very painful. Your words play over and over.

You made a wise choice.