R.S. Farris Poems
|1.||To Dr. And Mrs. Mcgraw||1/2/2007|
|5.||And The Point Is...||3/15/2007|
|6.||The Dandelion Kings||3/17/2007|
|8.||Some Have Called You Proud, And So You Are||4/17/2007|
|10.||Thanks For The Because||7/5/2007|
|11.||'Intentional Combinations Of Words'||10/30/2006|
|12.||Life Is A Vending Machine-A Real One||10/30/2006|
|16.||Schumann: Opus 15, No.12 (Andante Poco Lento)||3/15/2007|
|18.||Love Song For Toccoa||7/5/2007|
|21.||Comprendre La Vitesse||4/4/2007|
I am one of those who write in journals knowing,
somewhere inside, that we really want someone to
read this. Not blatantly, but somehow, some
way, we want someone to know. Why else would we
write it down? Sometimes the readers are only ourselves,
changed by days, years, or even hours, changed
into different people who can read objectively what we
wrote back then.
Sometimes the readers don’t exist.
What would it be like if there was someone you could really
talk to, someone you could tell all the
things you only write in your journal and scratch ...
To Dr. And Mrs. Mcgraw
Do you kiss on New Year's?
Do you still flirt, laughing at each other's
Faces as we laughed back then?
Do you eat chocolates and build
A big puzzle, now that you're old?
Do your layers of sweaters still match?
Do you still correct him, gently, as the
Memory of two doctorates slowly