nothing like a birthday

to reflect on a life. today I turn 73.  holy shit.  when did that happen?

this birthday is like none other.  my first without Mom. her death 21 days ago was seismic. each one of those days I've wantd to call her. at 94 she remaind intellectually curious. almost every call wd include her commenting on the news. right till the end her morning paper was more important to her than coffee. but perhaps in a tie with bacon.

couple that major event with my selling my dream house where I've spent my last 22 years.  in 2 weeks I move to Palm Springs. what's left of my "stuff" (I've been downsizing for a year) will go into storage till I find a condo. & then I start over.

I can't predict -- nor wd I want to know -- what the future holds. this is simply a rumination on where I am now. my last book -- Ohio Triangle -- was publishd one year ago today. it is one of my most important collections but has gone without a review. however I've been putting out little books for 45 years & I can put all my reviews in one hand. I simply keep on making poems because that's what a poet does. & in the past Palm Springs has been a stimulant for work.

one of my friends wishes romance for me. I tried relationships twice. both faild. I'm so comfortable living alone I doubt I cd handle compromise again.

so here I am. an orphan at 73 facing my final chapter. I've faught alcoholism & depression. but I've written a couple of poems that bounce off the sun. & I've made love with angels before they had wings. as long as a verb or a naked man excites me I'll go on with gusto.

tonite I'm having dinner with a poet visiting from the east. I don't know if there will be cake or candles. but I will fill with grins remembering all the cakes. & I will be illuminated by the parade of candles that have lit this long life.