My pen is like a blues riff,
not always on the note

I bend within the moment,
new feelings reach for hope

A eulogy remastered,
the fire that he fed

The Mojo dancing with the Muse,
Marine Band his to wed

My words to stretch and vibrate,
a blind man theirs to read

They move in tribute off the page,
Sonny’s orphaned reeds

My hand they cease to follow,
as letters wail and slide

While deep in South Chicago
—the greatest harp just died

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)
‘Tribute To Sonny Boy Williamson 1’

Outgoing closet
With a shy hanger
Covering private parts
From open exposure
Sometimes a family
Shares the same space
But not the same views

Not always brave
Hiding in emotions
Not able to make sense
All these feelings occur
Some days full of strength
Ready to take on the day
Others full of dreadful thoughts
Hard to walk out the door
Struggling to get out of bed
Growth in the darkness composing
Shined in the light striving for more