for Wifey on her 75th

What’s so Grand
About the Grand Canyon?
This big abyss,
This emptiness,
This nothingness
Less piled on less
Air-filled abscess?
Should so much “empty”
Command our empathy,
Or a feeling
To send us reeling?
Does it matter
The loss of so much matter
Shatters prairie flatness
With this hollow fatness?
Yet it’s loved
With a non-erotic
Passion Platonic
Safe from the Plutonic, Satanic,
Abyssal trench
Of the North Atlantic
That would shame this
This small
Abysmal abyss,
This loneliness,
This great depression
We obsess on.
Let’s abandon
This hellish canyon
And find something better to stand on,
Some land
To land on,
Something less stark
To call a Park.
Why stand on the rim of,
This bowl of
A hole not good for us,
An idyll too suicidal,
Like terrible Fate or
Satan’s crater,
A sterile peril?
It’s a fear too near.
Pick something far,
Some distant star
Frost said
To stay our minds on
And be staid ...
And not afraid.
From this abyss
Of wasted time,
I stargaze now,
And I’m
As one who
Saved his life. He
Found afar his star,
His “Wifey.”