Monday in a Lovely Dress
Take me anywhere darling
As long as you are there it is a feast, an entertainment
Take me to the planets, my love, or to the backyard, or
The estate sale, or the Museum. Or
Take me home, sweet scottish princess of these plains,
Your limbs graceful in a fabric in the wind.
So many words you could've said,
Who would have imagined you could want me?
There are pinwheels in these dreams tonight, sparklers,
Fountains of white and gold.
This heart is a great engine turning
This longing into jewels for your loveliness
These are poignant phrases for your wardrobe
Sweet salacious poems you can wrap around your heart, your soul.
O what will Tuesday bring? I have fallen deep into your eyes
& the Universe seems leathered and silvered and sepia-toned.
Each mystery reveals the blossom, petal by petal,
Its color and scent the fabric of a special life.
This poem came out of the period when I fell in love with Bill Panichi's wife, Constance McAllister. This too was a huge mistake, but hard to see how I might have known that. Bill told me he didn't love Connie anymore in the Spring of 1995, and I told her she should leave Bill and come be with me. Well, she left Bill, and she played with me for awhile to make it work. And Bill got mad about it, needing, as he did, to be in control. I had known this woman for several years, through the stage. Our daughters were quite good friends. I was friend and computer guy for Bill for many years. Bill provided the apartment space when Becky started leaving me, so that she could phone her friends (read Kevin Stein) without me hearing. Bill also was the person who told me I could get a court order keeping Becky from moving Paige to Bloomington, in 1995. We had a complicated relationship, though not as much as the one I had with Connie. At any rate I wrote some sweet love poems to this woman, before she dumped me completely after having gotten free of Bill.
As long as you are there it is a feast, an entertainment
Take me to the planets, my love, or to the backyard, or
The estate sale, or the Museum. Or
Take me home, sweet scottish princess of these plains,
Your limbs graceful in a fabric in the wind.
So many words you could've said,
Who would have imagined you could want me?
There are pinwheels in these dreams tonight, sparklers,
Fountains of white and gold.
This heart is a great engine turning
This longing into jewels for your loveliness
These are poignant phrases for your wardrobe
Sweet salacious poems you can wrap around your heart, your soul.
O what will Tuesday bring? I have fallen deep into your eyes
& the Universe seems leathered and silvered and sepia-toned.
Each mystery reveals the blossom, petal by petal,
Its color and scent the fabric of a special life.
This poem came out of the period when I fell in love with Bill Panichi's wife, Constance McAllister. This too was a huge mistake, but hard to see how I might have known that. Bill told me he didn't love Connie anymore in the Spring of 1995, and I told her she should leave Bill and come be with me. Well, she left Bill, and she played with me for awhile to make it work. And Bill got mad about it, needing, as he did, to be in control. I had known this woman for several years, through the stage. Our daughters were quite good friends. I was friend and computer guy for Bill for many years. Bill provided the apartment space when Becky started leaving me, so that she could phone her friends (read Kevin Stein) without me hearing. Bill also was the person who told me I could get a court order keeping Becky from moving Paige to Bloomington, in 1995. We had a complicated relationship, though not as much as the one I had with Connie. At any rate I wrote some sweet love poems to this woman, before she dumped me completely after having gotten free of Bill.
Labels: Bill Panichi, Connie McAllister Panichi
posted by As Bjorn at 6:17 PM
1 Comments:
this is a wonderful blog. I ment to leave a comment but was distracted by my "writer friend". I thought what would my new vistor think if he saw our 'lack of' communication. I think like you " I am a basically optimistic person living in a nightmare of rightwing advance".
I do think they congregate in all countries.
Your poem is honest. Can we always be like that?
How can an artist breathe without honesty...how does art happen?
Love twists and fallen crests, always a lethal combination. I'm glad you survived it all...dawn
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