Arteries stretching
working me overtime
just to get home
There will be time
soon enough
for a trip to the body shop
and a few more spare parts
to be taken on like a tin man
riding across the sky
holding on to keep the pieces
from falling to earth
©Daniel von der Embse
I’m watching Ken Burns’ The Roosevelts and thinking of my best friend Don Brody, who was stricken with polio as a child. I wrote this poem a while back while flying over the empty places between Utah and California. Don, a fine musician, used to tell me about the therapy he’d received at Warm Springs, where FDR recovered from polio. Brody was one of the last of my generation to contract polio. In fact, the vaccine was available when he came down with the disease, and his father, a physician, had some vaccine, but it was still new to the market, and his dad was concerned about the safety of the product, so he made the decision not to administer the vaccine to his son. That decision plagued him all his life. Both Don and his dad, Dr. Stan Brody, are passed now, two of my greatest friendships. Enjoy one of Don’s songs at the link below.
swimming in the warm springs
The requiem that lowered
my old friend into the ground,
plays on, never long escaping
my memory
Looking out over dark patches
that once held life,
barren now but for the twinkle
of water in moonlight,
I think of him as a boy
swimming in the warm springs,
one day to be joined there
by me
©Daniel von der Embse
The Day Roy Orbison Died, by Don Brody
So desperately dry
In Southern California
The fire copter hovers overhead
As I sit in the garden
smoking a cigar
Though I have scotch
to put it out
To be blue for no reason
to languish without knowing why,
a waste of such beautiful sadness
that gift which comes to lift us
through the darkness
so that we might better recognize
with our eyes
and feel with our hearts
when joy finally comes
to carry us home
©Daniel von der Embse
Sometimes I just need to share things I write down in my notebook. This is one of those times. Thanks.
Lies hurt
not so much
as truth
revealing in me
antipathy
toward those who
would be trusted
but cannot
because they
withhold love
without which
life slowly
decomposes
into shadows
with no room
for hiding
only to be seen
naked and
alone
Much gratitude to all who have read, followed and commented.
Along the broken glass road
Leading to a graveyard
They are herded like animals
Drawing looks of hate
From dark hearts
They ask only for a place to rest
Not to be sent back
To live among the dead
Their struggle is ours now
We can turn them away
But they will never be gone from us
©Daniel von der Embse
We sit in stone silence
while you consider your response
to the question of how long
you have felt your life was all wrong
How much of you is left
now that I have taken away your soul
leaving you thin and airy like a dead blossom
helpless in the wind
Living in the realization that being alone
is better than sitting in silence together
acceptance is all that I have
and all that I want – for now
©Daniel von der Embse
Wearily we roll along
till the hallelujah comes
Saddle sores on my neck
bleeding for home
Listening to the singing
of angels tripping away
on the grass lightly
until the ground swells up
to carry me away
Just pressed, look forward to following them.
Image: Siebuhr
Once a month we’ll be answering any questions you have about the first year MFA experience and the application process.
Please send your questions in by October 6th. You can email us through our contact page, leave a comment below, message us on Facebook, or tweet us.
Questions will be answered by our first year contributors on this blog and through Twitter in mid to late October. Your questions can be general or tailored to a specific program.
writing in airplanes 