My third attempt to commemorate Joel Frye.

News arrived Mid-May, found me far from home,
found me shock-gasping in a hotel room,
on the wrong coast,
though he sort-of-warned-warned,
about a month earlier, I misunderstood his subsequent
silence, thus it caught me unawares, unprepared,
and strangely grasping for proper comprehension
and the right words, that usually come so quickly,
even too easy~quick, when one’s emotions are
running fast, like a springtime Northwest mountain stream

Imagine a conversation of nine year’s duration,
one of a number forged in the iron-y of poetry,
a most
genteel art.

I found his words above in a comment on a poem (1)
of mine, writ in 2015; the subject, so apropos, to be
ever gentle to thy words.

Our dialogue and mutual admiration lives on and survives,
for bonds forged ex-the world of poetry, but more so,
in real deeds and deals and realized poems come true.

We never met.

Not unusual for an on-line community, where the social, literate
media can foster a closeness surpassing the normative
standard need of the physical,
which nonetheless the absence of that touch is now
deep regretted.


But Joel do not be concerned!

Your words will live with others, as per your desire.

This my promise, this my premise:
A debt of brotherhood that will be,
must be, paid in full.

So let’s begin…shall we…

~~~~

Joel Frye Sep 2015

Friends

Some for a reason,
some for a season; even
lifetimes come and go.
All things are transitory.  Doesn't mean I have to like it.

<>
(1j
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1425812/oh-poet-be-ever-gentle-to-thy-words/