On the wedding

Here we sit,
in the church,

The Cultural Hall,
not the chapel.

We are Latter-Day Saints,
you see.

We marry, in the Temple,
or The Cultural Hall

This new life,
this new family,
has been, and is now.

They commence this journey,
together, this day.

My wife and I, this journey,
began together, a time ago.

Now the two, together,
plus two, began the journey
anew this day.

Let the cycle began, today,
and continue,
this now.

Devin, Tiffany  Lieshman wedding April 13 2019

When they married they had one son together and one son from a previous relationship.

Between the liquid and the solid

It began on that first day.

Delivery, from the canal.

The one, between,
the liquid, and the solid waste.

This then the human condition,
thus begins, anew.

Two Afghans

Their are two now,
afghans, on his bed.

One from one,
who, created his life.

The second from the one,
who shares it now.

Both now shelter his heart,
as they shelter, his sleep .

He seeks now to renew,
his place with each.

At one time , or another
he rejected both, afghans.

The first, too heavy,
Being double stich.

It was stored, by his wife,
and placed at the foot,
of their bed, in the winter.

The second, is similar to the one,
he rejected,
on that first Christmas,
together.

She made it for him,
on their many dates, that fall,
and winter.

Now to turn back the clock,
to shelter their two hearts,
as the afgans shelter him,
this day.

On the first night, together

It was their first night together,
as a couple.

It was a family hunting trip,
with his parents.

They shared separate sleeping bags,
together.

His brother, questioned,  their decision.

His brother, was enjoying the warmth,
of his sleeping bag,
with his new girlfriend.

Little did, his brother understand,
the nature,
of their future covenant's.

The promise of real intimacy,
if they kept that covenant.

The children that would come,
and their life together,
if they kept, their covenant.

On life Eternal, the coming day

She awakes in the morning,
to prepare for the coming day.

Husband, children
these always on her mind.

The coming projects,
and the ones past due.

These have been her life,
these past, coming years.

Now to be grateful for,
the continuation, of life.

This there was a time,
that may not be.

This then to be grateful for,
the comings days.

On the Gardener

He invited a gardner,
to plant a garden.

This then to renew, a life,
He adores.

The time for departure, comes soon
much too soon.

This then, the promise,
of renewal.

He lived with this dread,
this day, for decades.

The time of departure,
they thought not of, together.

Life was full, and this was future,
far future.

Then the bell does toll,
the time now comes.

Does he have the faith,
to trust in the gardener,
This, they will, then, see.

On living with Nada

There she is, at the family reunion.

Always present, though long gone.

She was missing, from, before I was born.

I have vague memories, of her children, from before, the separation.

I live with the trauma, and the tragedy, though not understanding, its cause.

My grandfather, Leo too, is gone, and Fred her brother.

These were long gone, before my birth.

They spoke often, of her, the aunts and uncles.

Young they were, when this loss, they experienced.

I suspect, PTSD, though undiagnosed,

runs ramped in the family,

Elnora, lost her mother, Lauretta, early in life,

Lauretta, choosing to take the last child, with her, in death.

These stories, of her, of them, I learn and share.

The house and apartment, built by Carl, her husband.

The first, to house the family. The second, to feed it.

How do I live with, the memories, of the ones?

I have never met.

On Prokaryote

"In the beginning, "
they were whole,
one, complete.

Then came the division,
when recognize, her, there,
He did not.

Prokaryote:  

Single cell lifeform, 

simple, whole and complete.

As a lifeform,
They share all.
No protective layer,
surrounding, their essence,

true intimacy.

Had the first ones,
Adam and Eve,
been Prokaryote?

"In the beginning, "
before the loss, of recognition,

and the division?

On Male PMS

He was the one,
in the family,
with PMS.

There, he spent,
the first morning, as a family,
on the bathroom floor,
the tears they did flow.

How many times, again,
had they flowed.

The loss of the first ones,
two she had said,
then a new family, they had been,
or so she concieved,
the loss, then real, or not,
then felt the same.

They were fighting, the morning,
when the first one did come.
and many days still, as one,
they become.

30 years past and the tears,
still flow, for him, for her, for them.

As now two separate homes,
they build together.

On the smell of new life, creation.

Let's make a baby, she said,
there on her waterbed.

This, then, installed last week,
when her things, they moved in.

She was the first,
and would remain, the one only,
to make such a request.

Her Dad had feared,
the roof would collapse,
on the family home,
when her trousseau,
She, removed.

It contained all,
the ingredients needed,
to create a family,
cept, a husband.

Thirty years, she waited,
for this day.

It was not the first night,
but second.

The first night,
a pajama night,
had been.

The temple wedding,
the reception, in Franklin,
with family, and friends.

These had taken,
all her energy,
that first night.

That first morning, he spent,
crying in the bathroom,
at this apartment.

She left,  the Family Breakfast,
early, to the temple,
with her best friend.

She thought,
she was offering,
a kindness.

He thought,
she preferred,
her best friend.

Then were the smells,
on the morning,
of the third day.

they awoke early,
to prepare for this
their new life,
together.

No time for a honeymoon.
That would never come.

He was needed,
at the repair shop.

She, a home,
to organize.

Coming home that night,
the apartment clean
a fridge with food,
dinner on the table,
and clean laundry.

These things,
his mom,
did not ...

these then, new smells,
then did surprise him,
that morn'.

Like the smell,
of the ice cream bucket,
in their friends truck,
containing the nauseous, contents
of a nights dinner.

The one held to celebrate,
the arrival of the couples,
first child, that next spring.

the smell of new love,
and stale sex.

like two moose,
rutting in the woods,
bringing new life, to the world.

or two socks,
sitting in the bottom,
of the hamper,
waiting to be renewed,
at next weeks laundry.

The gentle nibbling,
on her ear, as they sought,
to start, that new life,
together.

These are the smells,
that surprised him,
that second morning.

The large righteous, posterity,
God had promised him.

Create not together,
they would.

These babies would come,
from one, who loved, them all.

This, new source
a handmaiden, she would be.

In the Torah, a handmaiden,
is the one, to supply a new life,
when no life, create, the couple,
together.

Hagar, Ruth, and Mary,
such handmaidens,
had been to God
and the family.

In time, her sister,
then one, would be.

Still the smells, the next morn',
he would forget not.

The life, this then, they nurture,
together, this day.

On Coyote Sex

There he lay,
howling at the hole.

How had he driven, her.
To this place.

This lack of , intimacy.

Once young love,
they had been,
together, and apart.

The first time,
on the second day.

This nibbling,
On the ear.

This request is then,
To help, to make a baby.

This then request, had failed.

Then did come, the babies.
From one who luved them, all.

Then life gets , busy, complicated.

Then the cancer, and the anger and the loss, of real intimacy.

By then, much time, has passed.

Now begins the third marriage,
To the first wife.

Does he court her again?

Two homes they create, together,
Again.

The nightly phones calls.
The weekly visits,
To remind her again,
How valued, she is,
To him.

Now tobe, renewed,
intimacy.

This then, is his task.

She painted the ceiling blue v1

She painted the ceiling blue.
How many times had she been in this position,
Late night sharing an intimacy.
Young love when it was good for her.
Before the children.
Then later when to fullfill his needs.
Now it all became routine.
So she painted the sealing blue.
How to then return to the love of youth.
When it was good for her, for him, for them?

On Vulgar Notions

Part the First: The Blue Ceiling.

How many times had she been in this position,
Late night sharing an intimacy.
Young love when it was good for her,
before the children.

Then later,
when to fill his needs,
it all became routine,
So, she painted the ceiling blue.

How to then return,
to the intimacy of youth.

When it was good for her,
for him,
for them?

Part the second: A vulgar notion.

A lover says, 

it was good for me.

A prostitute says, 

was it good for you.

A wife says, blue blue, 

I think I will paint,

the ceiling blue.

"I believe firmly in the value of all vulgar notions, especially of vulgar jokes. When once you have got hold of a vulgar joke, you may be certain that you have got hold of a subtle and spiritual idea."
(G.K. Chesterton, All Things Considered)

The town square.

The town square,
Was a triangle.

Grandma was on a bar crawl.
Saturday, in Kemmer Wyoming.

Grandpa was the drinker,
In the family.

I think grandma,
just needed a night out.

By then Grandpa was gone.

With most of the family,
Grown, with their own babies.

Still there were young ones,
At home.

Off to bed, were the kids,
Or so she thought.

When left, she did
They started their own,

Bar crawl.

Got advance notice of Gramma's,
Journey.

Then off to a new bar,

One bar ahead,

Of grandma.

This story,

Aunt Nancy, 

luved to tell.

Now I tell you.

Link Willard Stephen Byington Personal History

Willard Stephen Byington Personal History

The Letters in the Cedar Chest

Now we return, from the burial.

Nearly fifty year's has it been.

He was not the first,
he would remain,
the last.

Nearly 50 years, the covenant,
she then, kept.

Lordy lordy, then how this day.

A  promise, she made.
A promise she kept.

Still the letters,
she kept, from the first one,
in the cedar chest.

Were they dreams,
of an everyday housewife.

To hold to the promise,
while remembering,
the past?

Life was difficult with Daddy.

This I learn now,
as I share the burden,
this day.

This luv we share,
this promise we keep,
then, this day.

So if keeping the letters,
from the first,
help renew, the present,
then who I am to judge,  the choice,
For the strength, it provides.

This day.

On ironing and waiting

Their she waited,
By the back door,
Ironing clothes, to pass the time.

This having something do,
While, she waits.

This young one,
This product, of love.
The gift of the body,
Like the others, too.

How to help him,
Be a man.

With a large brood,
Time with each,
Is hard, to come by.

When he left,
Such words, of anger,
Between us then.

Never coming home, he said.
I am a man, he said.

Does a man, do this to his mother?

Maybe come home,
He will not,
Then this my heart, will be broken.

Still I wait.

As so many others wait,
Their by.

Always the light on,
And a lesson to share,
This then child,
Becomes a man.

To the Generations

I care for my oldest child,

now 

as he cared for me,

then.

I mature, 

He has not.

How to luv, 

and care,

For the one, 

I adore.

this that they, 

may care for me...

When?

*I am my father's legal guardian.

The Motel and Dance

Made it home,
early, then,
the vacancy sign,
was lite.

Come home now,
to clean house,
for your Daddy
this day.

Maybe Daddy will work,
half a day, their being,
no burial today.

Daddy loves to dance,
it may kill him,
someday.

The Elks have a band,
this day, this Saturday.

Ten children,
to feed,
the motel to clean
and Voyle's wedding,
come soon.

This then the fight with Nancy,
the dishes this day.

I know Voyle's needs to help?
But this battle is a fight, I have lost,
long ago.

Lordy child,
how did I go so wrong,
with this one.

What my brother did was wrong,
so wrong.
This then the guilt,
I carry this day.

Lynn too, we will learn to love.
That child, I wonder if mature,
he ever will,
someday.

When come the babies,
to that two.
We will love and cherish,
and mourn this day.

Then another house to clean,
for their babies ,
a fresh start, that day.

To clean this,
a house, seams woman's work,
this day.

As men work,
to clean their lives,
this then,
love finds a way.

To make the dance,
this day.

Forsaken not, me

Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani.

I believed in the end,
that a lamb would be found,
in the thicket.

did you not find a lamb,
for Abraham.

Thus alone, now,
am I.

this time has come,
now i pay the price,
the full price,
for their sins.

Then am I,
the lamb in the thicket,
you found, for abraham.

then this cup I shall drink,
this penalty I shall pay.

For you love, them,
as do I.

-- 

Steven Bassett

On Personal Revelation

Revelation comes on the Lord’s timetable, which often means we must move forward in faith, even though we haven’t received all the answers we desire.

Alexander D. Hale, Personal Revelation: The Teachings and Examples of the Prophets, General Conference, October 2007 |

John Milton also learned this lesson the hard way.  Toward the end of his life, when the English Republic failed and he had not received his epic poem, he pondered if his life mission was a failure.   He then received this poem.

When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"
I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait."

John Milton, On his blindness, 1673

We never know what God has in waiting to bless us.  We must be willing to wait and serve and listen to what he desires us to do with our lives.  With the Baptism of my only child, I thought I would never perform a priesthood ordinance for another child.  Little did I know the blessings that would follow with the adoption of my son.

So wait but also move forward and seek to bless the lives of his children, while he seeks to bless us with things in the due, and proper time.

On Proper family size.

A portion of this quote has been moving around the web and on Facebook. 

“"The most merciful thing a large family does to one of its infant members is to kill it." Margaret Singer

It took me less time to find and locate the book this quote came from, thanks to Google, then it took to format, and compose this response.    

My mother faced the same dilemma in creating her own family.  My youngest brother was born impaled by an intrauterine device.  She had seen the effects of having many children on her mother’s family.  It was one of her biggest fears. She knew she was fertile, like her mother, and could have a very large family, with a child born every 14 months.   Her first three babies came between January 1964 and February 1967.  Still, she mourned the loss of Dana Allen Bassett the remainder of her days.

“Thus, we see that the second and third children have a very good chance to live through the first year. Children arriving later have less and less chance, until the twelfth has hardly any chance at all to live for twelve months.

“This does not complete the case, however, for those who care to go farther into the subject will find that many of those who live for a year die before they reach the age of five. Many, perhaps, will think it idle to go farther in demonstrating the immorality of large families, but since there is still an abundance of proof at hand, it may be offered for the sake of those who find difficulty in adjusting old-fashioned ideas to the facts. The most merciful thing that the large family does to one of its infant members is to kill it. The same factors which create the terrible infant mortality rate, and which swell the death rate of children between the ages of one and five, operate even more extensively to lower the health rate of the surviving members. Moreover, the overcrowded homes of large families reared in poverty further contribute to this condition. Lack of medical attention is still another factor so that the child who must struggle for health in competition with other members of a closely packed family has still great difficulties to meet after its poor constitution and malnutrition have been accounted for.

The probability of a child handicapped by a weak constitution, an overcrowded home, inadequate food and care, and possibly a deficient mental equipment, winding up in prison or an almshouse, is too evident for comment. Every jail, hospital for the insane, reformatory and institution for the feeble minded cries out against the evils of too prolific breeding among wage workers. We shall see when we come to consider the relation of voluntary motherhood to the rights of labor and to the prevention of war that the large family of the worker makes possible his oppression, and that it also is the chief cause of such human holocausts as the one just closed after the four and a half bloodiest years in history. No such extended consideration is necessary to indicate from what source the young slaves in the child-labor factories come. They come from large impoverished families—from families in which the older children must put their often feeble strength to the task of supporting the younger. “   

Sanger, M. (2014). Woman and the new race. Middletown, DE: Creatspace Independent Publishing Platform.

Now I am in no way advocating abortion for the regulation of family size.  Every child has the right to be raised in a family that has sufficient resources to care and raise them.

I am an adoptive parent.  I was fortunate to be given two babies by a woman who loved her children.   She still does. She sees them on many occasions and follows them on Facebook.

I am saying let us regulate our families sizes and if necessary make the hard choice to place our children where they have the best opportunity to thrive.

To return the boon

I'm journeyed forth, from the cave,
once more.

To return again, with the boon.
Thus to share, saught I,

But all they saw were the images,
on the wall.

How many times, must I return,
to the place, of there confinement?

It would be so much more manageable to go.
I have the tools. I have the boon,
yet I can not leave them.

So I return,
again,
and again,
and again.
With the boon.

Until the images, for them,
become unreal,

and we leave once more ...

Together.

on being one

Male and Female created he them.

First they were them,
one, in Adam,
then Eve was removed,
for his sake.

Now they are two.

Then when, do they now,
become one?

Then?

http://www.sojourngsd.org/blog/intersex

Grandmas paintings

How late in life,
Did she begin, to paint?

I see them now,
She is gone.

Never an artist,
Yet a painter.

As never a poet,
Yet a writer, am I.

Did they bring her joy?

I have them now,
She is gone.

Will my children have my poems,
When gone I am?

To bring to bring them, joy?

A Christmas mourn

This then Christmas mourn,
then past.

This then many years,
To see the joy
Then to return

This then year's of sorrow,
Then be gone.

The cancer took its toll.
Never I thought the joy,
Could, return.

Now the cure, then to, the joy.
The sorrow, now, no more.

This then saught, but not believed.
Then to us now, be grateful for,
Here, then still ...

Now he sleeps

A trip this morning,
to the doctor.

A panic then,
the emergency room,
this fear, then panic,
averted.

The healing now begins,
then anew.

I feared the infection,
spread again.

This fear now quiet,
the panic then too.

Still concerne, for him,
for her, for them.

Still.

The wounds old and new

I wrap now,
then, his bandages.

This time do I then,
again

This then the service,
offer, then,  this day.

The injury, the accident.
Then the infection sets in.

The surgery to remove,
this infection,
as many in the past,
both physical, and spiritual,
then the time, now to heal.

I wrap the wounds,
to begin the process,
then to heal these wounds.
then, to begin, anew.

To heal this, new wound,
and the ones,
long past.

This service, now,
then does increase,
our love, for one another.

On the Final Judgement

I served a Church Mission to the Mississippi Jackson Mission in 1984-86.  I was called to an 18-month mission.  It was an experiment the church ran in the 80’s to see if it would improve the mission work.  I was called in October of 1984.  In December the missions changed back to the 2 years standard.  I was given the option to finish the 18 months or extend up to 24 months.  In consultation with my parents I extended my call to 22 months.  This would leave time to work through the summer and start college in the fall.  These four months were the hardest part of my mission.

I was serving in Vidalia Louisiana.  It is a very small town across the Mississippi River from a small town called Natchez Mississippi.  At one point my companion and I were not getting along.  He refused to keep any of the mission rules.  Not that I was a sterling example of be a hard-working effective missionary. 

One morning when it was about the time I should have gone home and I was starting my extension, I had enough of my companion.  He was using my Walkman to play non-church music and refused to go proselyting with me.  I called the Mission President up and yelled at him. Unhappy that I had extended my mission for this experience.  I was unhappy with my performance and was just generally very angry. 

My mission president asked me to calm down and he would find a solution, to my problem.   He asked the Zone Leaders to come and take us on splits for a weekend.   This was about an hour drive for them from Alexandra La.  This experience helped me to refocus and recommit to keeping the mission rules.  My companion recommitted to keeping the mission rules and improving his proselyting.

The Alexandria Stake President ask to meet with my companion and I.  This was really unusual thing for a Stake President to do.  We normally did not have any meetings with the Stake Presidents in our areas.  He shared with us some of the problems the Stake was experiencing and why the Vidalia Branch was so important to the Stake.  He ask the Mission President to devote more resources the Vidalia Area including assigning us a car so we could extend the reach of our proselyting. 

The next 30 days became one of the best times in my mission.  We worked hard and my companion and I got along a great deal better.  I learned the blessing of hard work.  When we departed my companion and I loved each other.  My next companion was a real joy and the best one I experienced on my entire mission.

The next part is the sweetest memory of my mission.  After I received my new companion, we had Zone Conference in Alexandria.  I was a little apprehensive about my one on one with the Mission President.  When he saw me in the chapel, he put his arms around me and cried.  He said Elder Bassett I understand.  That is all he said” I understand”

I now know what the final judgement with be like with Jesus Christ and I have no fear.   I know the Savior because I knew someone like him.  My Mission President.

On my grandmothers

I live with their pictures, now
I lived with their stories, then.

Recently discovered, 

more photos, still.

But the stories, I've been told,
how then to understand,

them?

This,
Now ...

Was it the baby,
Her and the baby,  yet unborn?
To return,
to their Eternal, home?

Another, her husband now gone,

died coming home, from his mission,
the children then to raise,
On her own.

These are their stories, 

I am told, shared by a Mom,
Her story, then yet,
Unknown.