I
don't remember joy
when I was a boy
but didn't the days run on
some
kind of sadness crept over the hill
Dee, they trashed him as a baby
the
crazies
alcoholic mother, demeaning father,
a sadistic elder brother embedded
needles
in his feet
and when the family finished whooping him
the world whipped
him too
and wasn't Mother Nature unkind
in public and private ways
pain
ago-go
the the then the
last years
my "brother" started to stutter he
was a clever man
as smart a soul as ever I've known
with the exception of
being
unable to take care for himself
for the most part
ah but that's
not a poem
that's just a moan
and didn't the days run on everywhere
in my house
there are things Dee did for me
or gave me
so much indeed
I
always miss a bunch
if I give the tour so
many people that Darrell touched
were touched quite deeply I
remember
after his last haul back from the coast
Buck raving waving
a
giant umbrella
in the storming park
yelling at the sky
begging to die later
he complained
"my social worker
doesn't understand
the difference
between wanting to die
and suicide" now
he's gone
and there are tears in my eyes
as I think of his pain didn't
the days run
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