Where and then feast

Updated: Jan 24th 2019


Feast

“Where and then feast

have we sat together

but to build and pray

Have words smelled of color

that wrap in winters breath

as we lie in tranquil

When, in the peace of time,

does the sound breathe.

Together, lost in love and patience.”

~ Lance Kassle November '04


A poem by Lance KassleHe wrote that poem. It was part of a collection he was putting together.  We had talked about gathering them all and putting together a book of his poems. He sent me so many that summer. That summer he died.

I stumble over them sometimes. On days when I'm doing good not to remember him, he throws them down in front of me like roadblocks to grief recovery.

He's been gone for years.  Gone… like he's away on some extended work trip to Dubai and I'm not allowed to go there because… because I'm still alive.

I didn't understand this poem. To be clear, I didn't and still don't understand a lot of his work.  His mind was complicated and I found complicated poems difficult.  When he sent it to me, it was one very long sentence. It drove me insane trying to see through the punctuation issues that I desired.

Today I took it apart and I see something more.

Where and then feast.

I want to feast on the memories of where , not now… but then. I want more time.  I want him to explain things to me again, this time slowly and I promise I'll listen.

have we sat together

but to build and pray

He loved having an audience to teach and to share ideas with.  He was so dynamic in everything. People were drawn to him. They wanted to know him intimately, male and female, platonic and more.  He built a community of followers.  And yet I always felt like I was on the outside of his following.

Have words smelled of color

that wrap in winters breath

as we lie in tranquil 

I love this line, though it takes me to different places each time.  I want him to look at it again, I want him to finish the rough drafts.  But I don't, because the confusion makes me think deeper and find my own meanins.

When, in the peace of time,

does the sound breathe.

Always, when I see this part I find myself taking a deep breathe and pondering the life of words.  His life was short, ended before he was ready. Good strong men shouldn't die on the street, alone and yet surrounded by strangers.  Good men should live long lives and let go surrounded by sisters and lovers.

Together, lost in love and patience.

 

 

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