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#marshall
For Marshall Gebbie *in June, with sun dispatched to somewhere else, a steaming mug, adds to the clouds of gloom but, dissipates the summer chill, that seems colder than its winter chill counterpart, since it is contraindicated, here, where, it’s summer and everybody’s inside, hiding, for all the irrational reasons, the news, reports so earnestly you send me a poem of incautious beauty, of a moment re-warmed, desire, recalled, rekindling a past so well remembered that it edges me off that chill, and I wonder how timing is in always everything, the rear view mirror concept somehow a predictive tool, cause we never saw it all, but just right, plenty enough, and when old men muse, the risk of self- ruse is always lurking about remembering how it was, how we wanted it to be, how we’re sure that we too were there, or at least near, almost certainly, was it a thousand poems ago, or B.P, (before poetry), when actions were louder, preferable to words, life, charging neurons, by the billions, so we have those storages, celled memories, so that the poems of then, come back so easily, framed in our memory,* in the glorious, stunning heated colorings of pleasure June 5, 2:35pm Shelter Island
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Jun 5, 2020
Jun 5, 2020 at 4:35 PM UTC
For Marshall Gebbie (Stunning)
I took the seat across and breathe deeply Trying to ignite the will to last the night to make it easy Folios with galloping notes reflected my eyes Ascribing them as you started rippling nice Taking your place behind those keys while I guard the front as it seems You fiddled the catguts, and I learned their secrets And as you edify, I got lost in the sequence You exuded the decree to keep my valiance I lodged around the shadows keeping my silence Risking the chance that was left of me As I chant the cadence with complexity I ogled before you with such esteem As my mind creeps alone towards glaucous dream Wishing that in every thing written in the sky, You will always be my Marshall and I am your Spy
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Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 11:44 AM UTC
The Marshall and the Spy
On the trembling of time {comes}words of wonderMarshal Gebbie *heart races, not a nice tick tocking but a rumbling tumbling thrombombing, making heartfelt thanks seem tepid, as trite, from repetition, even if genuine* *the conceptual, that words of gratitude mine, can make time to tremble, makes me to wonder why am I shaking shivering for no obvious reason…* wait, another gratitude poem, please god no, just know, *that the waters I draw upon, are contained in your wells, so let me congratulate you, your are the concept creator, the strategist, scientist, the architect of grandeur schema, serving up delicacies in single words. weaving ideas in abbreviated phrase, authoring formulas for explication, propping theorems and notional potentials* me, at best a working stiff technician, or lower still, the draughtsman, with chewed on pencil, eraser reduced to a nubble stubble, *charged with implementing, your charges and discharges into an informed format, so once more, for the road, my thanks is freely given to those who set up challenges daring me to tremble with time, when I awake to read your messages, looking for your gold in those treasure chests to mallet and scalpel into a poetic work* <nml> 9:oops Tue Dec 16 2025 ~third night of Chanukah
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Dec 18, 2025
Dec 18, 2025 at 2:14 PM UTC
“On the trembling of time {comes}words of wonder“
<> ”What worth, dear man, are thee to me? Of Brotherhoods eternity, Esteemed, thy worth, from whence thee came? In consequence, by any other name. Whence laughter creased and cracked thy face Wouldst sadness flee to lesser place? And wouldst thou rather, not have been? A thought we all would curse....obscene! Of what thy vaulting valued prose? In essence, beyond scented rose. Perchance, dear friend, that thee should die? Hot tears would rain from blood red sky” **MARSHALL GEBBIE <§> <§> <§> <§> <§> the reconciliatory process, never ending, one seeks to estimate his worth on this earth, harmonizing his consciousness with an undated human elegy, appraising his qualifications on a malleable but fixed scale; fixed are the qualities: kindness, kindness, then courage to be more kind! honesty, honesty, the honesty of rigorous estimation, the excess of giving love always more, eradicate selfishness malleable is the scale! an instrument that measures more, always more, the little lines on our ruler, meter stick, are but a ladder to a ceiling ever visible but luckily unattainable the highest grade attainable is glorious failure that says, back to the drawing board, redrawing thy image, the singular constant, a grail with no final location, an equation that is a starry palate of moving loci: we are each an each formed by all the points satisfying a particular equation of the relation between human coordinates, or by a point, line, or surface moving according to the defined conditions of what is truly human, hands touching, skin to skin here is the wondrous rub, the most excellent complication! the human equation by its very conceptual essence can be solved by numbers of two or greater value, one, is non-viable, worthless, a zero equivalent, no solution to all you seek to understand in this then, we summarize: you can be a successful human, if and only if, you comprehend that we exist only, we are defined ourself by the plurality of friendships, thy own worth, is not yours alone, existing only in the grasp of others, and thus we answer the riddling question:** *** What worth, dear man, are thee to me?*** 5:15 PM Mon Oct 12 2020 Location coordinates are: Latitude: 41.048513558171045 Longitude: -72.36516056990725
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Oct 12, 2020
Oct 12, 2020 at 5:49 PM UTC
MARSHALL GEBBIE: What worth, dear man, are thee to me?
<> ”What worth, dear man, are thee to me? Of Brotherhoods eternity, Esteemed, thy worth, from whence thee came? In consequence, by any other name. Whence laughter creased and cracked thy face Wouldst sadness flee to lesser place? And wouldst thou rather, not have been? A thought we all would curse....obscene! Of what thy vaulting valued prose? In essence, beyond scented rose. Perchance, dear friend, that thee should die? Hot tears would rain from blood red sky” **MARSHALL GEBBIE <§> <§> <§> <§> <§> the reconciliatory process, never ending, one seeks to estimate his worth on this earth, harmonizing his consciousness with an undated human elegy, appraising his qualifications on a malleable but fixed scale; fixed are the qualities: kindness, kindness, then courage to be more kind! honesty, honesty, the honesty of rigorous estimation, the excess of giving love always more, eradicate selfishness malleable is the scale! an instrument that measures more, always more, the little lines on our ruler, meter stick, are but a ladder to a ceiling ever visible but luckily unattainable the highest grade attainable is glorious failure that says, back to the drawing board, redrawing thy image, the singular constant, a grail with no final location, an equation that is a starry palate of moving loci: we are each an each formed by all the points satisfying a particular equation of the relation between human coordinates, or by a point, line, or surface moving according to the defined conditions of what is truly human, hands touching, skin to skin here is the wondrous rub, the most excellent complication! the human equation by its very conceptual essence can be solved by numbers of two or greater value, one, is non-viable, worthless, a zero equivalent, no solution to all you seek to understand in this then, we summarize: you can be a successful human, if and only if, you comprehend that we exist only, we are defined ourself by the plurality of friendships, thy own worth, is not yours alone, existing only in the grasp of others, and thus we answer the riddling question:** *** What worth, dear man, are thee to me?*** 5:15 PM Mon Oct 12 2020 Location coordinates are: Latitude: 41.048513558171045 Longitude: -72.36516056990725
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