Edmundo Farolan Poems

The mind lives in a different world embodied in solitude.
Chance, pick chance.
Unwavering influence, abounding friendship, sympathy claims, understanding specks of truth.
Love? An abstraction of the mind.
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….passing through another memory
the drifted memory timed on brinks
flung open like doors,
old women’s chatters,
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Words, words,
words, ideas within;
transitions transformed by life’s borders,
transformations of vulgarity into discretions
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Comfortless and unseated songs:
the hippies have rambled through society’s images.
Lucidity is another reflected synthesis.
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Tears – a human factor.
Do animals cry? Is it only humans who cry?
Death. Human, earthly death.
No one escapes death.
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White flesh parading.
Orange students.
The askance of contemplations.
Thoughts creating thoughts like cigarette smoke from tobacco fire culminating in diffused air.
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Chiau.
It’ll be your fault if you don’t remember.
The Dave Brubeck concert?
Your laundry, stained socks;
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Do you believe in fortunes?
Yes.
But they’re not true.
That’s why I believe in them.
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Maia, my sweetheart, my darling,
When you read this, years from now,
You’ll remember your grandpa
Who carried you to look out the window
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A hunchbacked future.
Khayyam’s “Let’s forget tomorrow for tomorrow may never come.'
To care about tomorrow or to care not?
Two people: no solitude.
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