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BAD TO THE BONE MARROW
or THE INCREDIBLE JOURNEY OF THE SILVER SURFER
for Walter Lewallen
In this poem my friend has cancer--
Mantle Cell Lymphoma stage four.
Death has come with its little pouch
of wonder, its parasite cancers, come
to take my friend away. I say no to Death,
I say this friend has taught me to live and you
are too early here. We have things to do,
things to say. I need this friend. Please.
In this poem a child psychologist tells my friend
he needs to remember the childhood hero that
fought evil and won, the strongest of the strong,
and he tells me of the Silver Surfer, straight
from the days of comic books and cotton candy,
the childhood we tried to have.
In this poem my friend becomes the child
he needs to be
to believe that stories are real
and can change the world. He imagines
three times a day his hero doing battle
with the cancer, for in this poem
the Silver Surfer becomes small--
perhaps by some science fictive device
that shrinks him for this purpose--
and he goes into my best friend's blood,
he rides the blood right to the bone,
slides inside, then on to the melon-sized
growths, all those confused cells, he is small
he penetrates membranes and calls upon
the Power Cosmic to heal what is broken.
Of course, there are setbacks, he barely makes it,
his struggle against this evil is the most challenging
and frightening thing he's ever faced, the universe
is at stake after all, his universe, the one poem
he is writing with his life, already long enough
and complete
but, please, God, please
let it be longer.
ELEGY FOR MARTY HORTON
who was 28 years old
when he died of AIDS in August, 1992
When Marty Horton laughed
one thousand butterflies burst from their cocoons
and painted the sky with their beauty.
When Marty Horton laughed
chains broke their links and prisoners went free
fences fell down
doors opened
their locks no longer functioning.
When Marty Horton laughed
something profound occurred in the universe:
I'm sure that every time he laughed
a star swirled furious into being
or a red giant exploded and swollen
or a white hole opens its portal of light.
I'm sure that a seed cracked somewhere
and a secret energy of growth pushed a flower through the dark and heavy earth.
When Marty laughed
he gave himself to that laugh
he gave himself completely to laughter
to joy
if only for a moment,
the past and future fused in the present
and there was the moment of being with Marty
and laughing together.
When Marty laughed
Joy became reified Joy became a person
who sat with us and told us that this is as it should be.
His laughter was a perfect music
a music of revelation.
With Marty a laugh became a psalm of liberation
a song of breadloaf rising
and his laugh was a magic yeast within me.
I will always remember Marty's laugh
and his quick smile and giving.
It always filled me with a sweet wine
it always made me want to be more.
His laughter was a gift from God
an orchard that still gives me fruit
whenever I remember.
When I think of Marty now
I think not of how he died
but of how he laughed,
of how angels were born from his mouth.
And I was lifted with him
who lifted all who were with him.
TOOL MAN
for Joe Moos
His hands are hammers, chisels,
pliers
With his ladder he becomes tall
like a giant
Watch him take the ladder from the truck
watch the ladder unfold
watch his legs stretch ten feet tall
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