an ode to J.
poet of great measure
fallen yet climbing
up towards sanity again
truly an artist
seldom was he not a free-thinker
nor ever one of many words
no impressions
just a red door
and don't forget the color blue
for it is the only true color
Van Gogh knew the truth
anything else is just a color
and what better to be obsessed with?
certainly not television (unless it is blue)
except possibly that oh-so-wonderful
vision maker
J. loves that stuff
he lost a little once he found it
     (well, maybe a lot)
still the same old J. though
ever-daring, never-caring
he can take on the world
     (or at least New York)
$50 and a bus ticket
what else could you need?
he met Ginsberg
can you say that?
i didn't think so.
J. the person
he's the man
pretty pictures did he draw
mainly in blue, but still
he does his best work during his Icehouse seizures
quite a sight, a mural so big
too bad its gone
sort of like J.'s mind