SEPT. 85 by Sidney Clyde (im memory of Sidney Clyde)

I still see your face
And I look at this piece of paper
A long since expired phone number
The only thing
Sometimes I wonder
Where you are
And when you walk up to me and say
I’ve missed you so much
I wake up
And you’re still
A million miles away.



Jesuschristians just like Jesus.
They just talk about what he said.
They just try to do what he did.
They’re the ones who gave us WWJD.

When Jesuschristians step inside a church,
they don’t believe everything they hear in there.
They’re pretty sure that through the years
a lot of truth got heresized,
a lot of heresy got dogmatized.
They don’t even care.

Whether he was Jewish Messiah
or Gnostic Revealer
or wandering Buddhist healer,
it’s all the same to them.

Jesuschristians just like Jesus.
They know it’s not about believing,
and it never was.


Grandpa’s sleeping in the chair.
I have to be aware of Paul,
who likes to plunge fists
into Grandpa’s lap.

Still Florida noon
hangs outside the living room.
Ann and I unweaned
hug motherhood to my breast.

Throbbing with snores,
the moment moves,
as Grandpa tries to
sleep himself away.