I got up this morning
and then
I fed the cats
yowling as usual for more
and often shaking their heads
as though the grub
in their gobs was alive
and then
they sat at the French door
and asked to go out
and then
I tried to remember my dream
and felt sad as I often do
and then
I thought about the poet
Frank O’Hara
who always it seems to me
to have written ’and then’ poems
but what do I really know?
I remember only
what I remember
and then I remember
a bit of last night’s dream
about my mum and dad
and that always
makes me sad
or maybe it’s just how
my life has worked out
and I can’t tell them anymore
and then
I think about
Diane DiPrima’s touching poem
about her Italian anarchist grandad
and how her love shines through
in every word
and then
from nowhere I remember
Miles Davis and how
there’s nothing of his I’ve heard
that I don’t like
and then
I think of his various versions
of Cyndi Lauper’s spiffing uplifting
anthem called ‘Time after time’
and then
the thought comes to mind
that Miles Davis died
28 September1991
and somehow his death
and those of dad and mum
meld into one
and then
and then
and then…..
Jeff Cloves
Montage: Claire Palmer
.