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That morning I happened to look down Anderson Ave, and so the poem happened…

look down
anderson ave,
say,
& why not,
straight to
the sea
to see what
kind of day
it is on
the waters
a sparkler
or a
dull clouded
day sunk
on itself
from the start
nasty with the
bite of wind

how you will

how you will

call her a bitch
a girl misunderstood
call her how you will
the bitch rules
selene
the bitch is rising
feels to the eye
like a breast to the hand

troubadors

troubadors
to John Lennon, Bob Dylan & Leonard Cohen

when John was
shot down
by a fool
in New York
i knew
this world
makes no sense
the pain of love
the pain of pain
in his voice
love won
only a
cold point
through the
back

when the universe
takes Bob back
his voice
from the bottom
of mankind
coming up
through
his voice now
as old as
he strove to
sound young