Encorporated owning entities align,
to face this pesky point perceived as cause
to effects usually affectionately sought as joy…

little boy and girl joy, sleeping under shaggy
old man frowning face, sagging, not frowning…

second thinking ellipticals and tri-punctual ellipses…

Threes of reality, see,
you and me and this medium, logos shapeless in form.
****, as dust,
proof as stars expand
and we assume some part of us, must
survive,
someday.

So finished,
so finally past all reasons why not,
now cause feeling, the expression, words
spoken from this wheeling center to the rim,
pointing away,
reminding me of a galaxy recently observed,
relayed to me by way of useful magic
from a mathematically fixed position
on the elliptical orbit edge a million miles away.

A thousand paces, left to left, left right left,
a thousand thousand thousand pace miles away,
looking into the outer darkness
between our childhood starry heaven
Sun and moon and stars. And us as dust.
Mere thought in formation, you and us.
Threes of reality, see,
you and me and this medium, logos shapeless in form.
****, as dust, swirling sun-size motes, truth
evidential signal proof old stars expand
and we assume some part of us, must
survive the inevitable mortal fact
someday.

Nevermind, give the end this point
to stand on,
and watch it pop.
Proof, uno mas, the point
of any thing pierces every thing.
We live in our inherited wind, with a will
to wind the clocks that twist the threads and change
the angles of reflection,
to arrange blue skies here, today.

Call it a yard, call it a shed,
That vessel grew up in bed,
With a covered head,
So that its frame did not get wet,
But better yet,
Many times,
Resins used were left to dry,
Into the cracks their poxys pry,
To amalgamate the creaking ply.

And only when the final *****,
Twists its way to something new,
To tie the lace of this floating shoe,
Still sitting under rusted roof;
When the metal files are swept away,
And the hazel mast accepts its stain,
By a whitened brush proclaimed,
Only then does she take her name.

For a day or two she’s left to linger,
Poised at the top of her sheltered slip,
A proud and shining ship,
Held in place by the gasping grip,
Of the steadfast holding line.

Her ivory sails lie week and flat,
And there is irony in that,
For a girl already waxed and named,
With canvas cut and metals tamed,
Perched there upon that ledge,
Has yet to take her newborn breath.

Through forward rings two ropes are thread,
To heave her from her resting bed,
Call it a yard, call it a shed,
Into the water below,
A world she does not yet know,
But there she is bound to go.

Soon her airtight helm will taste that salted swill,
Her rudders will shoulder the force of a thousand men,
And by her maker’s will,
She will not meet her end.

Bang,
Goes the steadfast holding line,
As the forward rope force applies,
Without a wince or a whine,
Does our vessel bid goodbye,
To her sheltered bed,
Call it a yard, call it a shed,

And with one final gracious bow,
Into the wet of the sea she ploughs.

Where were you when you heard
First heard some legendary song?
Does it get permanently hooked
To that time in life as it went along?

When I was twelve years old
I was coming home on the bus
A car radio playing Elvis singing
That’s “All Right Mama” passed us.

Freezing my *** in a weapons plant
When I first heard “Everybody’s Talking”.
I had no money and no good car
But I almost started walking.

All the time I was driving
“Light My Fire”, was always playing
With that bridge you couldn’t ignore.
I always link going west on I-40 to
My introduction then to the Doors.

T’was almost fifty years ago today
Sergeant Pepper and his band did play.
I was working as fry cook in KC
Wishing I could afford to run away.

I heard Yes singing “Your Move”
In Hollywood on Sunset and Vine.
I had no idea who that group was
I only knew they were new and fine.

Bopping down Hollywood Boulevard
And fashionable in Frankenstein shoes
I was styling with my pleated bells
Singing “Staying Alive” as I would cruise.

Music changed for me again, for the better
With the opening of Yellow Brick Road.
Elton made that dramatic opening bit
Opposite of a country *****-backed toad.

Barbra and Donna in great duet called
Were wailing out “Enough Is Enough”.
I was thinking finding a better team
Than those two divas would be tough.

He was a fine broth of a man
And I loved dallying with him
In afternoons of sun and breeze
My lovely one-man harem.
Such a delightful odalisque,
I suspended thoughts of time.
I greedily took up my guitar
And seduced him with rhyme.

As we fed each other sweets
And made coffee by the jug
We laughed and smoked ***
Together naked on the rug.
We told each other stories
Of places we had been
And astounding miracles
Each of us had seen.

We talked of **** dancers
And clever men of magic
And how the loss of innocence
Was not altogether tragic
Because we got to learn
And could use it to grow
And understand the secrets
We recently did not know.

He taught me how to love,
This man of many stories.
I learned to welcome mystery
And search in it for glory.
He showed me how to look
And see people as unique
And not some mass idea.
I grew up from that peek.

That simple time of learning
And laughing with a man
Who had the gift of sharing
The way to understand.
He took me from my childhood
And showed me how to live.
He gave me a gentle heart.
The best thing one can give.