The format is altered by the limitations of the blog, but I hope the words themselves do their job without the formatting help.
Can’t help but think a life
IS MORE
Than 12 column inches,
Give or take –
Especially when the giving
Lingered long.
The pens and inkwells
Treasured up –
NO LESS
Than fascination with the craft -
The stylus scraping paper
Cast a spell almost as strong
As any sullen art.
Perhaps it is fitting –
AFTER ALL
A foot of copy
Fashioned for the press -
He prized conciseness and reduced
In verse, his observations.
A ruler length is also apt-
A schoolroom symbol channeling
(A trolley ride through Green Town?)
SO, GIVEN
The tenure – teaching –
Maybe a dozen column inches
Can serve as fitting tribute.
For what is absent in the post
IS NOT
the quirky combinations –
Marine – and – poet
Thespian, director, mentor, leader.
All-in-one
What the ones who knew him feel
IS MISSING
Is the part they carry still.
For me? The charge to rise beyond –
And find what made me tick
OR TOCK.
Advice, suggestions, reprimands
Invariably garnished
With respect and affirmation.
IN THE END
“…faithful and just, to me”
He did not “go gentle” everywhere,
(And some say Anywhere)
But now, in retrospect -
A vantage point he loved
BY THE WAY –
This verse can pay a debt.
Since part of who I am took seed
In stilted conversations
That obliquely lit the way.
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