Bobby


“Giardia”, he laughs, like it’s a proverb discovered. A simple word, description, hell even an action word that should be not only defined but lived. “You had it”, I say, knowing the answer already, knowing the full story to come, the psalm of life, that music, coming from a man about to die.

Spill me a sample of life in your tears, sometimes in laughter, overt without fear. Bobby do tell me of all those old times, I’ll just listen and not know why. It doesn’t matter, what you’ve done before, a silent film critic, with pain you ignore, it really is something these times that we sit, and keep your attention astray. I’ll let you ignore, that shadows are asking you to play, outside this door.

Momma you think she’s keeping you down, the truth of the matter is she wishing you found, no longer lost but heavenly bound, it’s okay, she’s wishing her son would stay.

Tell me of Pickford, of that old great train, it’s robbery in silence, the cinema of gray, those sounds not spoken, and maybe it’s just like your AIDS, a Potemkin treasure while the theatre organ plays. You’re quite a Chaplin today, funny man looking for stories while your breath goes away, Bobby in silence it goes far away.

“You’ll always write great things”, Bobby’s eyes are snapping, looking bluer than the gulf, on fire perhaps with some ancient star. “Why ruin a good conversation with flattery”, I say. He’s actually made me smile, with the flamboyancy of his announcement, delivered with the flourish of his weakened hands. Those hands, that have been typing for days, typing the old fashion way. “The truth is a fire”, he snaps, looking at me intensely, his gaze that of goodbye. “You’ll write of this someday, promise me”, he says, well really he demands.

Bobby, let’s talk of things that are old, immortal pictures, Faust, and what you know, Bobby don’t leave me without saying why, a silent majority has to die. He’s moving and talking his lips that don’t speak, and telling his friend, secrets that, I’ll always keep. You better believe, I’ll always keep.

“Giardia”, he laughs, like it’s a proverb discovered. A simple word, description, hell even an action word that should be not only defined but lived. “You had it”, I say, knowing the answer already, knowing the full story to come, the psalm of life, that music, coming from a man about to die.

Bobby Klepper passed away on February 2, 2000. As promised him, this is goodbye. 08.02.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל



STAND (Earthquakes for Tomorrow)


Loneliness is memory, misplaced upon by sorrow, used by some daemon, to take you from my hand. Shallow is the mystic, built on faded feelings, depression of the failure, a place you did not stand. Delegated feelings, begotten by some history, an instant of reflective, chosen when you’re sad. Concern built on illogic, misshapen isolation, a curse of antiquity, a curse upon your land. When you feel dejected, invaded by no virtue, rejected by the living, alone in disrepair, perceive yourself taken, perception of my thunder, receive an essence speaking, I will, reveal, I AM! Yesterday by mourning, anxiety for tomorrow, a present place of mercy, that ever place to stand. Stillness is a marvel, an instant tender healing, a circle of repeating, reflection when you stand. I’ll rise you like a phoenix, replace your hate with wonder, there’s earthquakes for tomorrow, but today you’re going to stand.

I don’t want to be bad, I rather not be scary, I’d prefer you to see me as I am. It’s true there are times when truth gets crazy, but I’ll pledge to be as honest as I can. There are places you are going, you’ll need me to understand, that’s okay, you’re just a little shaky, I’ll carry you to safety, there’s earthquakes for tomorrow, but today you’re going to stand. Present words stay constant, their sturdy structure persistent, not nearby, there, or future, just current here I am. Change I built on endless, continued in the boundless, perpetual, when unceasing, an elemental hand. This is love unknowing, spirit built on present, a verb that you can count on, not a description built on sand. Come and face the monster, the essence of the rumble, I made within you magic, there’s earthquakes for tomorrow, but today you’re going to stand. – דָּנִיֵּאל 04/28/2014