POETRY
REUNION
For Gaylon Currie
Wherever I watered the smooth, worked earth
That was to be my garden,
White worms rose to drink. With a light-fearing reluctance
They writhed up crumbs of loam
Until they shone on the wet, black dirt like blind stars.
Heavy-lidded shrub lizards, weirder than quarks
Or Persia, gave those worms the ancient eye,
Then descended with polite plops
To gobble up the heavens.
“Grazing my lizard herd,” I deadpanned
As you arrived, your arms around huge chunks
Of my past and cold beer. You blinked,
Stared like a great, wise reptile
And then, for no earthly reason other than love,
Almost believed me.
And that is it, old friend,
That despite everything you come with your hands
Held out to me,
Offering spirits, expecting magic,
Full of dark, thirsty brilliance.
All afternoon we leaned together,
Two shepherds of absurdity
Gathering about us like well-worn cloaks
The ragged meanings of our quest,
Drinking with the worms and stars.

I published a book of poems a few years back called Still Be Beautiful. Within a few months I intend to reissue portions of that book (including an ebook option), with substantial new poetic content, including the best lyrics from my songwriting career.
In the meantime, here is a sample poem, published initially in the Free State Review; more samples to follow: