since I wept poems freely,
from rise to set,
every breeze, every minute, each bladed grass,
a creation-emotion overtaking

the residue is
every pen dry,
every pencil nubbed,
every free and white
piece of paper,
even all the napkins,
Picasso scribbled

but this one compelled to
rise and set,
before you placed
with a gratitude that
needs no explaining,
a poem,
first and knighted as

Camaraderie

a tired, benighted idea,
oft expressed,
that cannot be contained,
swelling up, chest burn bursting
and it's not yet 600am

but the sun demands
payment for admission to this
morning's performance,
which will never be rebroadcast

so in humility, I
offer up this scrap,
in hopes it earns me
one more show tomorrow
pleasing him,
by pleasing you

we write with many motives,
but this ticket is
for my friends here,
genuine camaraderie that is holy,
sourced from holy water,
"straight from the water"*
within our physical selfs

your arm unasked slung
over my shoulder,
your words my inspiration,
your demands, none,
other than give a listen

which is no demand,
but sweet sugar daily,
crazy stupid flooded
teary-eyed
through words care crafted,
I have found so many
gentle kind
that without hesitation,
I find myself blessing us all
by repeatedly uttering
Hallelujah!

for SJR
who lets me borrow his voices, a good man, asks for nothing in return
and therefore, is given all I got...

~~

“She's as sweet as tupelo honey
She's an angel of the first degree
She's as sweet as tupelo honey
Just like the honey, baby, from the bee
She's my baby, you know she's alright.....“

Van Morrison


~~~~~~<<<<<>>>>>~~~~~~~~~

old folk listen to old folk
and rock,
stung and sprung
from Pandora's box

someday
maybe,
you'll understand,
certain phrases,
from certain phases,
first tasted at a flavored oxygen bar
where youth drank,
worshipped and adored

and when those certain
word combinations reenter,
slipping in from unawares,
recalling easy the first time
you tasted with your ears,
Tupelo Honey

but what you remember is

that differentiating phrase

and
what you believed,
what you needed,
why you existed,
all because there was a new knowing,
that
an angel of the first degree,
was out there waiting for you...

we read the paper together in bed
side by side,
electronically,
nary a smudge of newsprint
on our fingers or sheets,
nothing to stain that wet spot
we created with the
realized physicality
of our embrace

you stand on your own two legs

you stand straight,
begin wherever fate
has you fall in,
but well remember,
wherever the line dance snakes to, 
direction and destination,
you remain you-true,
on your own humble path,
be ever-wary of the snakes
traveling along side you

Melted Words, Salted to Disappear*

salted to disappear,
not to taste,
aged love poems writ
before my eyes
drip drop from
bed to floor,
lightly screaming
no más no more

there is a raging quietude
in bed, in head,
without you
to write for,
without you,
write no more

for without
my audience
before my Queen,
I am uncommissioned,
dispurposed,
words not just blurred,
perishing,
lightly melting,

the colors of our conversation,
were the stuff of me,
magnetos of pinks
purple hues,
magenta
grooves
from which
spilled, flowed,
torrents des cris du cœur,
not color-blinded, blindsided,
words black on white, even worse
white on black look at this writ miserable and all stand

pronouncing

this is a lost man
who has lost his salt of the earth