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the vast sky glisters*
with millions of pinholes
on this clear bush night

we are fortunate
who view such a bright display
*its brilliance so grand
~and for Harlan, who loved this one best~

"for tandem is the ever-changing, graying color of their fierce attached tenacity"

waking/walking in
careful pacing regular lock steps,
like new cadets, counting cadence,
in perfect silent, almost motionless,
except for the minuscule quivering of
slightly parted moving lips

these two elders,
still now plebes,
but of a latter, graduated stage,
demonstrating robustly
the slow shuffle-along,
a well practiced dance conjured
'in tandem'

her arm, crooked in his,
his other hand,
in protective custody of a
knight's armored chain glove
encasing hers,
he, shuffling just,  
a precise, intended half-a-beat slower
lest she ever think
that she, ever be a drag upon him

hair, his,
threaded with daily,
new arriving grays,
proudly accepted
as the privilege of
graceful aging

disguised with periodic outings,
outings for the hidings of life's bookmarks,
conceding nothing ever to
time's lunatic desire to separate them

modest in dress,
styling hints of  pasts' elegant,
the man's hat defiant,
daringly jaunty angled,
a small scarf to handbag knotted,
matching his Windsor knotted tie

the passers-by, all smile,  
the signal charm of an
end game processional,
thinking so sweet,
yet mine eyes detect more,
hardy and radical

a fierce, fierce fierceness,
both fighters in the resistance,
armed with tandem tenacity,
ground given,
but only inches surrendered,
wounds resisted by
scar skin toughened
by the caress of ions bonding
under the pressure
of atomic level mutuality

worn out,
well past Purple Hearts,
no capitulation feared,
to the ever changing,
enemies' new disguises,
a two person platoon,
having the other's back

and I burst into tears on the street,
a train of out loud moans,
even groans emitted,
like a string of perfect pearls
clattering on an asphalt terrain

from visions of the inevitable,
from the certitude of a
cycle's uptime ending

but jealous furious by this reminder delightful,
angry at myself, for having lost so many wasted years,
mine, the loss greatest, for absent was the
fierce tenacity of tandem
for my aussie prof:
you will know me well
by the color of
my happy brimming tears
 Mar 2017 elizabeth
Jon York
I have no special talent,
I am only passionately
curious about life and I
know that our life is a
message to the world, so
I try to make mine

People may not always
tell you how they feel
about you, but they will
always show you, PAY

Learn to embrace reality,
even if it burns you and
if you do what you love,
you will never work a
day in your life.

Creativity is intelligence
having fun and the creative
adult is the child who
survived, so  go confidently
in the direction of your
dreams and live the life
you've imagined and
remember that nothing is
worth it if you aren't happy.

Never let you fear decide
your future and grow
through what you go
through and you will find
that your hardest times
often lead to the greatest
moments of your life and
if you keep the faith, it
will all be worth it in the
                              Jon York    2017
Some call it bi-polar
I prefer manic-depression
It fits us better with adequate expression
We live our life in swooping loops
We strive at our peak then it droops
And the doleful drudge is destitute
Until all progress stops and stoops
To a halt, face down in mud and roots

And then we rise
Called back to life by a guiding light held deep inside
Sorely self-aware, we work until we burst
Droll desperation, at our best when at our worst
"Wow you got your **** together you lost and soulless ruffian."
Then we hit our peak and it all starts back up again
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