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January 17, 2014


Beautiful. A classic Lally poem. Some love dies, I think, but poems live on forever.

Yes. Beautiful ...

You penetrate right to the heart of it, always, whatever the It is and for me, it's always love and loss. More from Mr. Lally, please.

"So much passes it feels/Like another world..." Love this poem!

Strong and touching. Love has triumphed over loss in Lally's psyche and his revelation of the triumph gives us hope of a similar victory. This is more than a uniquely and artfully crafted poem. It is an invitation to a special grace.

Really nice. All this physical shit that we try so hard to hang on to, even when we know it's slipping away. And yet the intangible love that ties us all together is what endures. I think hate can have a pretty damn long half life, but it seems transient too, like time will break it down. I think I read that even the Hatfields and the McCoys were brokering a truce a few years ago. And if we can dare to jump off that cliff and embrace that love, the hate and the fear can dissipate.

Lally's quirky, unsentimental brand of compassion trickles down the neck of this beautiful poem.

The prostate and the appendix may have taken a hike, but the Lally voice is as lively and singular as ever.

The poem and the poet are eternal!

But not the love we shared
When we were honest…

I can't think of a more honest poem, and if that isn't love, I don't know what is. Lally is a master.

Michael you know how to feel with words. It's all part of growing oder and reflecting. When we were young we never appreciated many of the people in our lives. It's just now, we realize that life is about the people, not the material things, but the people we have shared our lives with and the love, unconditionally given. Carol

This is the kind of poem Michael Lally used to write when I first fell in love with his work in 1979. He's done it since but not as often. It's amazing how much time has gone by and he's still ahead of so many in structure, voice, and vision. Kudos to the people who put together this anthology. It's good to see the establishment finally begin to catch up. It's got a long way to go.

Beautiful. And true. Even if you no longer like them you can put your mind to when you did and the feeling floods back. Which is confusing. It's easier if they're dead, but still. Been trying to trace someone I last saw almost 30 years ago

This poem a sharp blade of truth, for Michael, for me too, maybe not for everyone, I've witnessed love dying and staying dead, yet for some of us maybe the "like" is gone, still the love is enduring, unconditional. An important poem from an important poet. And a way of being in the world that works for me. A reminder of how much we miss Joe B and so many who are not physically present.

I like what Jane Delynn wrote: "An important poem from an important poet."

Michael Lally is the ideal voice from a brave cohort. Whenever he returns, and he always will, he is forever young.

This is gorgeous. And true. And made me weep.

humbled and overwhelmed by the comments, and grateful...

Tres cool, Lals. And you know what else doesn't seem to die? Your vision and command of the poetic language - as fresh now as 40 years ago and longer. - Dave

Thanks Dave, coming from you, as with the other commenters above, I feel fortunate indeed...

Keep hold of what we have gained from our loved ones rather than what we have lost of them. That's a sentiment to remember, Thanks, Michael.

Thanks Michael for reminding me --and many others hopefully-- about the eternity of the past and the shortness of the future. Love always - Ate

Beautiful wisdom in cycles of remembrance and grace. Thanks, Michael. I love your work.

What a beauty, Michael. Straight to the heart. Reminds me of late WCW, your fellow New Jerseyite, especially poems in "Journey to Love" -- in the sureness of movement as much as the theme.
Charlie Fanning

Beautiful. Specially loved and hit by the first two lines.

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That Ship Has Sailed
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"Lively and affectionate" Publishers Weekly


I left it
on when I
left the house
for the pleasure
of coming back
ten hours later
to the greatness
of Teddy Wilson
"After You've Gone"
on the piano
in the corner
of the bedroom
as I enter
in the dark

from New and Selected Poems by David Lehman


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