{54. eulogy}
03. {6.21.2021} So, this is how a eulogy is built and delayed, then reconstructed. A process developing over the last six months and stalled due to insistent pandemic, until the funeral, the laying to rest. Family gathering in the Oklahoma cemetery, myself lost in the motioning, the presence of the moment, the full experience opened, a blossom opened full moon, stray egret. A taking in, full inhalation under cypress trees. Firm understanding of self, history, folklore. Proof of the divine: a broken branch of wateroak in the middle of your path, mirrors tarnishing overnight, drone of cicadas out of season. I become the eulogy, the outpouring of language. ••••• ••••• First Paragraph, First Draft {11.16.2020} Under the circumstances I have been motioning forward. Beyond the unexpected. The misplaced. The setbacks and little discrepancies of chosen ideas. The missing physicality of my father, his presence reduced to a furious loss: he was once an intelligent source
