Write More Poems

Picture box theater
Endless possibility
Players on the stage

as I think of how
his quiet, low voice
now, gone
could fill the room
with deep feeling

(not sentiment
but profoundest inspiration
sharing inmost intimate
circle, that sense of skating
on the edge of understanding
everything)

and how, when he wrote
of his own ending,
I took it as a metaphor, a kind
of salute to the ultimate reality
that self disappears
with time
never allowing to rise into my full
consciousness, never acknowledging
his tenuous grip on earth, the plain fact
of his great age, of living at that edge -

I realize that was what made his presence
so compelling -
not just his humility,
but the largeness of his spirit

his willingness to talk of it
to celebrate life in the face of it
to carry that awareness with him,
live it, use it, build on it:

when we can sing into death,
we will know we have done
something right

The bells of Saint Paul's
Change ringing welcomes the day
Pass through Temple Gate

Actors in the streets
Shakespeare's words alive and well
Theater everywhere

A good Saturday night happens when you arrive late,
Not on purpose and not more than a half hour.
You walk in the door and the place is packed
With apparent strangers until the singer yells
Your name on the microphone like you were Norm
And this was Cheers. You wave, a little disoriented
And usher your friends to the bar.

There's nowhere to sit but you are not worried,
There's nowhere to stand without getting in someone's way
But you have a good feeling and by the time your drink
Shows up, a couple of stools magically appear. Also you
end up sitting next to a friend whom you didn't notice
When you first walked in. She's a little tipsy and talks to
You while the music plays. You know all the songs, the
Same old songs, the touchstones of your evening, the
Reason you came, comfort food for the ears.

You have inconsequential conversations, that's important
Because, after so many years of talking over loud music,
You no longer hear what is being said and lip reading
Proves to be useful only about half the time. Also, you are
Watching the crowd for hidden friends to pop out as if they
Were Waldo and you were your son when he was seven. Your son
Is now in his twenties and Where's Waldo no longer sits on his
Shelf. Does he have a shelf anymore?

The musicians come down and shake your hand during the break
They are doing their job but you've made their job fun because
You know how to play that game and you truly enjoy the back and
Forth. Maybe you're not their best friend but it's a pretty good life when
The band comes down and shakes your hand during the break
One band that is no longer playing around town used to take
You backstage for shots of whiskey and even though you never
Touch the hard stuff, you did it with them.

End of the night and the band gets paid and they get fed
It's that kind of a place, they get a fresh salad after their gig.
They chat and their wives are there and they still come over to
Your best girl and take turns kissing her because she's pretty
And you don't mind because there's no doubt with whom she is going
home. That's what makes it a good Saturday night.