Kept out of bars
On St. Paddy's Day
With a thirst from
Here to Ireland
But the bench
Is at a 120˚ angle
Which allows the moon
To remain in your view
While looking across the ocean

I like your
Poem and I'll
Use of it
What I need
And toss the
Rest
Or steal it,
Doesn't matter
As long as I
Ascend

One summer
I travelled up over
Around and through
This great mass of land
Neatly divided into 50 separate
        And a couple picked up along
        The way
And just when I had seen enough
Resting my eyes at a diner in West
        Hills, NY
              -the one with the Red
               cushioned seats that still
               smell like leaves of grass-
An angel, a fallen cherub a shining
       Shimmering cousin of Christ!
Poured my coffee
As I tried my best to focus my eyes
And grab a glimpse
       (My god I could feel her!)
Of what I knew was surely heaven
       In disguise
And I squinted and she smiled
And my heart exploded a billion plus
       Light fragments back into the
       Atmospheric beginning
And I, humbled,
       Apologized for the mess
But she just smiled New Jersey
      Past the pines
      On down to New Orleans
      And across 1845
      Up to '49 Frisco
      And back through
      Theicyflatwinds
      Down marked twains
      And Great Ohio
As I entered the 51st State

The poet's song
Was sung in print and
Heard by the carpenter
Who sang into wood
A song of perfection
And the wood sang
Of seventy-three rings
And winters lasted
Heard by the poet:

"I heard a treefall
Echoed in the valley that,
Caught by the buildings
Was heard by the children
Who hummed in their sleep
A song of innocence
That radiated Beauty
Seen by the angels
And envied by god."

I spoke in vain
To a rather coy daffodil
Commenting such,
"Excuse me for saying,"
    "But you look lovely today."
And I, as if expecting response,
     Allowed silence;
(Reciprocated by the daffodil)
"Yes," I said, "Save your words."

Thursday night beers
Spill onto the bed
For a bit of the old
Rough and tumble,
A quick word with
The angels
And home in time
To really tie one on
As the jazz
Plays somewhere
For someone in love
With a note and
Dying slowly for
The beat, playing their
Story and the story of
The cosmos,
And heaven is there
And you are there
In a red dress and
A smile that starts
Somewhere beyond
Polaris

He's typing again
About god and the angels
And nonsense
He's always typing
Always murmuring nothing,
Once in a while
I wish he'd get some rest
So I can be alone
And ponder world peace
-Brain