Born March 23, 1964

Remembering John Hall

Happy Birthday, dear John. Happy Birthday, dear John.
Happy Birthday, dear charging for the precipice at Normandie.
Happy Birthday, dear motorbiking over the Maadi manhole covers.
Happy Birthday, dear picking me up off the floor when I was choking
on my food and jerking the breath back into me.
Happy Birthday, dear deer hunter and American frontiersman reincarnate.
Happy Birthday, dear bringer of Shannon Hall into this world.
Happy Birthday, dear son and brother and father and enricher of life.
Happy Birthday to you.

--Bill



YOU'RE
SO DUMB
YOUR HAIR HURTS


my brother
is perched
at the brink of
a
fluffy
white cloud--

here,

he wears a white sheet
wrapped around
like a cloak

like a choir-robe
like to cover old sofas

he’s surrounded by friends—
they wear white sheets, also

boys who died
far too young—

boys who rushed from great cliffs
boys who dropped from tall trees
boys accordion-ing motorbikes
bright lime green--
against blank white walls

boys who DIED

from the

ex-hiliration
from the speed, heights and impact

up above me, now
laughing
lifting up his robed arms,

he proclaims


YOU’RE SO DUMB
THAT YOUR HAIR
HURTS


just
like
he
always
did


a small
yellow - haired thing
very small in this grass



YOU’RE SO DUMB
( i'm so wordless )

oh, my brother

we all had so much
sadness

now we’re all just
so happy

but my hair, it still hurts me
all
of the time

--Heidi