words

~

Where have all your words gone,
Charles?
I used to
     Lie
     Awake,
     Keeping your light
     Shining
     Bright,
By the bedside, sitting here
But being there
With you
All at once:
     At the track
     Or the typer,
     With the bottle
     And the women,
          Drilling in,
          Dripping on
          Drinking up
     The essence
     Of whispers and whiskers
     Brushing against
     Their
     Fragile
     Skin…
I was there too,
Watching,
Waiting for you to say something rude like
     Shit or
     Piss or
     Fuck.
Spent,
The boy would re-surface,
One hand on the red,
Then onto the machine
Taking in the longwaves:
     Classical, yes;
     Jazz, maybe;
     But what about the blues, Buk?
Then it came, didn’t it?
The words would flow and rush and topple and twist to flow and spill the black onto white,
     First of Mother,
     But blame Father.
     Then onto childhood:
          Reading,
          Learning,
          Yearning to
          Borrow from others what was not given to you.
          Fighting
               Feelings
          Suffering.
And you spent your life doing the same,
Betting on the Muse.
          She would almost always be
          A different one,
          But one to pull you through
          Nevertheless.
You were a strong man,
And I loved
     Your beautiful times.
I only wish you could still be
     Here
To take me
     With you,
Through your mundane days
Which were like spectacular eternities
And music for the rest of us.

S*
2001.11.19