mine

MINE

who am I to claim as mine

this faint whisper of self

living another man’s life

in another man’s body

not mine

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© e. bond francisco
2011.12.04

ebf

i am edwin bond francisco, jr i stand at the stone marking the final resting place of dr. edwin bond, born before the civil war departed nineteen twenty four my father, his namesake, stood beside me and my sister and my brother on pause drifting in thought. below, the city streets, the buses, the cars, the teeming masses Edwin Bond Francisco, named after the doctor that delivered him, and he being "ed", and me being "bond" so as not to confuse us though the differences seemed obvious, I explain my existence to every stranger I meet my father tells us the story of his mother, our gracious grandma Ma, discovering she was pregnant, telling him how she used to bounce up and down on the wagon seat because she couldn't bear the thought of having another child and so we stood - touched by the breeze and the silence of being ------------------ e bond francisco, jr Copyright 2011.05.04

Prayer

Spirit that watches over all things
Spirit the shows us the path
Spirit that fills the day with sun and the night with stars
And replaces the void inside us with brilliant light

We stand here tonight
To serve and be served
To find our way to places of peace and rest, for our bodies and our souls
To glory in your company, and in the coimpany of our brothers and sisters
Both in these rooms and beyond these walls

Spirit of mercy and revelation
Give us the courage to be gentle with ourselves
And the wisdom of discovery
Where we might find an inner place
That brings us the calm of acceptance
And the energy of transformation

We ask this for ourselves and for those whose souls we touch

Dream Pieces

There are eggs in the fridge
By the bacon by the wailing pig
A wall crumbles
My father comes home
Lights a joint and talks about goals
I have none but
That's OK - I can fly
And leap weightless from tree to tree
Who needs goals
I have wing-ed feet
And somewhere far above
And far below
Sprites and elves and fairies ply
Their trades of make-believe
While in between
Pieces of my dreams converge
Then scatter screaming -

Life isn't what it seems.
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Copyright 2011.01.17

Andre's House

Strokes of a pen
Serifs and descenders drawn
Paths on paper
Letters born
Joys and sorrows strung together
Foggy rainbow bayside morn
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Copyright September, 2010 E. Bond Francisco

Strokes of a Pen

Serifs and descenders drawn
Paths on paper
Letters born
Joy and sorrow
Strung together
Foggy rainbow bayside morn

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Copyright 9/19/10 E. Bond Francisco

The Middle

I've seen recently
Whole sentences written
In scrambled letters
Only the beginning and the end
Remain intact

I can read these sentences
It makes me feel very special
Somehow Like having hair
on the third knuckle
Or ears that twitch

Despite these spectacular
Talents however
There is a constant reminder
That at the beginning I am like all others
And at the end

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Copywrite 1/25/10 E. Bond Francisco