love is a place
ee cummings
love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places
yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skilfully curled)
all worlds
Whitepages Inc. just emailed a “new address update” for Gary Melville Shivers,
Who died last February—far later than he’d once anticipated;
Perhaps, but not necessarily, earlier than he wanted. I wish I’d reached out to know.
Had he played all his jazz and classical favorites one last time?
Read the record jackets he written with so many tender, perfect words?
Spoken aloud the words that illuminated our early friendship: e. e. cummings, T. S. Elliot, Sandberg?
Considered, forgiven, dismissed the ones who’d made his life a living hell early and late?
Remembered at the end those he’d loved most deeply who’d died too soon?
Taken comfort from his final friends?
Giggled once more at “I Tawt I Taw A Puddy Tat”?
Or realized the irony of his often-repeated “That’s all folks”?
Cuddled his kitties?
Whitepages was, of course, dead wrong.
Gary is not on Roanoke Parkway.
But I trust that he is surrounded by music, gently resting in the energies of a Kansas sky,
Maybe at home for the very first time in his life. ©
