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Memories
like stringy celluloid
from one whose date of
origination puts his
hands within the cogs
required to advancing film,
where anyThing plays with
chance and light,
and vision through
the words and sight
dance upon his tapestry of
what has and might have been,
and delivers him to you.
He is through the
other side and views
the chances of each moment
light within his palm;
and there amidst the calm
and surging blood and beat
of noThing’s whisper
from his now to ever
sweet and savory instants,
Marks the flood and pulsing
pushes of the good ones
of his kind and
through his fingers’ mind
he pushes now to find
you,
where you always were,
where you never stayed,
where your karma paid
the painful cost of when,
whose frightful sum
and awful tallies
paved your road and
only then you sallied
to the now of
what you are
and have become.
Ever near and ever veering
toward the you that shouts
YES!
to AnyEveryOne who’s
hearing.