Elegy (Blair Green 1978 - 1998)

forever the golden boy
the sun’s glow framing
blonde hair and
shining face
walking from barn to house

soft voice
polite
capable
patient
unforgettably kind

a life cut so short
so much potent portent
unrealised

and yet there he stands facing us
golden
leaning on railing
with that challenge on his chiselled countenance

remember me
remember others
remember

Berlioz

(dedicated to R. Krahn)

he walks slowly so you meet him
on the driveway
you say, “you were my first -
kinda like the first time you really notice a girl”

he just scowls
his shock of wild long hair and sideburns
long hooked nose
giving him that insane wildness

we enter the house and he sits waiting for
his glass of red

small talk in quiet tones escalates into
near shouting
as he downs his wine
(which you fill again and again)

he passions about integration
boxes don’t suit him well
he gesticulates a large circle
almost singing his words

EVERYTHING can fit into the circle
he says
and if not
make the circle larger

exclusion hurts his wild head

never forget to think of everything
otherwise you truly are not
living or growing

and you understand why he was your first

four days of hoar frost

white crystals clinging
branches heavy with beauty
a midwinter gift

cancer fog

descending like dust from a demolition
and hanging in the psyche
covering
liming limbs with piano cadence crystals
limiting sight to
only what is directly ahead or behind

we continue
almost blind

to stop is to invite disaster
to go back is just a fantasy
and so we move forward cautiously
inching our way towards
future fate

the soft white winter counterpoint
providing measure by measure of hope

Benny (Goodman)

with hair parted on the side and slicked back
wire rims framing intense eyes
he stays in the driver’s seat and motions for you to join him in his
immaculate black cadillac

he wants to drive where it’s all happening
so you direct him through the city places and
he talks about how people are so mesmerizing
some just lazing around all day
and others can’t stop moving/doing
he says the trick is to get things done
but feel like the guy relaxing on his front steps

it’s all in the attitude…
and in the practice
and a smile finally breaks out

and it’s only then that you notice the cat
lounging in the back seat
and you begin to get the hang of it

februum (Water Poem V)

I can see you now

you’ve just had that shot of vodka and
sat in sweating sauna at 97 degrees
inhaling pine scent poured over red hot rocks
even breathing hurts

in mid-air leaping off the dock
about to hit cold black lake water
so refreshing and soul cleansing

but before the splash
I imagine this fleeting thought ripples
why this ritual right now?
is it pure fun or something deeper?
pure depth?

and you climb out to make it
a third time – all things three
it seems

these thoughts on a hoar frost
day - the first of February
black branches whitened
into crystal miracle

Amaryllis II

Oh thou surprisingly pink crown of petals
on thick green carriage makes my wounded
heart drown in delight and wonder at thy courage
to bloom on mundane kitchen table in winter’s
monochromatic middle tiny veins of green and
white intermingle on petals pointed and bunched
like a riddle you were supposed to be red – vivid,
bold or so the accompanying papers said but you
defied the genetic code and decided to emerge pink
instead and so my submerged heart emerges to
celebrate the wonder of counter surges