How to Remember Important Things

 

 

Save the whales. Save the dolphins. Save the bored housewives.

Save my hands, so often cupped over the sorrow in

being alive. Save the beautiful made-up cherries of delight

I feel everywhere in your presence.  Save the sprawling landscapes

of late night cafeterias of the mind. Save the often

forgotten radios of our flying dreams. Save the hand-printed love

 

letters of early morning light. Save the inexhaustible curiosity of

a small  interior poem of silence. Save the naked air.

Save the Spanish tongue of Neruda. Save the sparkle in

the brushstrokes of a Picasso. Save storm and the rainbow.

 

Save the North Sea. Save shadows. Save all hearts from

beginning to break again. Save the ripped apart sky from

the rain of so many angry bombs leaking inside. Save

the secret handshake. Save the Pandas. Save the sea turtles.

Save the roses. Save the last dance. Save the sailing

boats and  floating planes of melting romance. Save whatever makes

 

no sense. Save this feeling. Save the butterflies with passionate,

provocative kisses. Save the question of imagination.  Save the end

of the poem until you really need it. Save the

world from itself. Save your wild goodbyes. Save every word.

Bonus poem:

Push Here Then Pull Down by Darryl Price