How We Listened
by Steven McCabe
Have you forgotten how we listened
to what was not being said.
The sun and the night both shining in Autumn.
Shining upon what is concealed
& beneath the crossroads,
a deeply buried wind
streaming through the empty house.
Dedicated to my (late) brother Larry, whose birthday is 2/22, who cried over his black fish floating belly up, who slipped climbing the crabapple tree & gashed his belly open with a nail. We passed through the cage of black & white TV broadcasting one Friday late into the night and throughout the weekend until a funeral on Monday.
My video poem concerning this event: https://vimeo.com/11304739
I think I found the spiral Xray online a couple of years ago. Of course , neither am I claiming any copyright credit for the photographs of J.F.K.’s funeral. A detail from a still photo of a performer riding a horse in my video poem is also in the mix. I will take some credit for that.
poemimage 
Haunting Steven, you plugged right into some deep, subconscious ghost of loss in us all…
Yes John, thank you…sort of a ghost ship in us that never quite moved on….
Deeply poignant!
Thank you Penn…one of those things, or two of those things…one lives with.
Very moving, Steven.
Thank you very much Richard. I’m glad you felt so.