There's this poem about Craig
Stalking me lately
But I haven't written a word of it thus far,
I reckon I don't trust its coyote paw prints
Or it’s shadow moths kept in a jar.
I remember the day Rick Ivy called me
And how I didn't even cry
For Craig by then was right there beside me
Some shine tricksters never die.
It's a poem about the Ones, who ride the side Other,
No one wants to believe that I see
On how I saw sweet Brady Green dancing
In a Memphis cosmic sky-mist Xmas tree
Or her face shining 1000x from the chapel door Exit
How Aunt Elisabeth in her wake smiled at me
Something I could never fully describe.
It's the one that explains how it's really beyond words
That I’d best make a painting instead
Some Ones have a way of living unspoken,
Eternal visions remaining unread.
So a poem is no measure,
For this that I owe you,
Nor dances, or paintings one-step beyond
It is the Light-show connecting the Love that you gave me
To others, when they come around.
Long after I left you without looking back
Your care kept me living a life above ground
Now you know that’s why I do what I do
You helped me back then so that I’d stick around
And be here for someone else too.