[1]
Poem for Joie

Why do I come to your poetry readings?
Because I like the way you handle pain, baby.
You spit in its eye.
Sometimes you cry.
Sometimes you go off dancing, anyway.

--a poem from February 2007
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[2]

Yes

--for Joie Cook

I still speak a twisted language
When I speak to myself. But why should
That matter to anyone else?

The conductor he is weary
Says the Song,
... Lord, it is hard, feelingfully,

Feel the width of passion,
Not just the sexual thing,
The world thing.

Touch your soul, man,
Trace out the in and out,
The track, yes,

Like the music filled mind,
Way back behind the music.
Thank you to the words.

It is the point.
The facts got to tell their story, yes,
But listen to you soul.

It will tell when something on the hill is lonely,
The lone something
Beyond all the company of strangers

After the years fade
Into moments of recollection.

I like the second of these two, Pete, especially the last two stanzas.

Les