Plain American Language

I cut a sliver/of WC William's finger
and placed it inside/my philosophy...

Thursday, February 28, 2008

Older poem, slightly revised...

Phill Grossman passed away in a motorcycle accident, he was a big person in the GW community, I feel, cause almost everyone knew him, at least by his feathered fedora, or his big black cloak he always toted around...

Elegy for Phill

Death is a wet sock
that slips too suddenly over the body.
You shake his hand.
Droplets wander down your arm
plink onto your shoes.

He shakes your hand and smiles
because before, you knew him as
warm. He played clarinet.
He is sopping.
The sidewalk is wet with his past
as he walks, & turns the corner.

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