Lisa Zaran Poems
|1.||Where's Your Tambourine Now, Sleeping Bear?||7/19/2005|
|5.||Dedication To Those Unfairly Undone||12/14/2008|
|6.||The Troubled Boy||7/21/2006|
|7.||Love Is Believable||7/21/2006|
|8.||Absolving The Eye||6/13/2004|
|9.||For A Girl||7/4/2010|
|11.||The Great Ones||7/20/2005|
|16.||A Dream Of Her Concern||3/5/2006|
|17.||The Men In My Dreams||5/30/2005|
|18.||The Blues Are All The Same||7/19/2005|
|20.||The Best Thing||6/13/2004|
|26.||How We Are||5/30/2005|
|27.||Talking To My Father Whose Ashes Sit In A Closet And Listen||7/20/2005|
Comments about Lisa Zaran
Talking To My Father Whose Ashes Sit In A Closet And Listen
Death is not the final word.
Without ears, my father still listens,
still shrugs his shoulders
whenever I ask a question he doesn't want to answer.
I stand at the closet door, my hand on the knob,
my hip leaning against the frame and ask him
what does he think about the war in Iraq
and how does he feel about his oldest daughter
getting married to a man she met on the Internet.
Without eyes, my father still looks around.
He sees what I am trying to do, sees that I
have grown less passive with his passing,
understands my need for answers ...
The Best Thing
When I drive up
to see you,
89 miles one way
and your'e not there,
I could kill you, Lewis.