an American flag

falls over

& I think 

of Timothy Leary’s death


& I clean a 

a hash pipe screen

using a Kinky Friedman guitar pick.


Sunday afternoon

becomes more somber

but in the echoes

of fire sirens calling

I still feel fine.


Nothing is happening again

& there is absolutely nothing

unusual about that.


I stoke the fires of incense

& hear the saxophone call

I remain unsure

if I should take action


the sun is up

as is the temperature

That may well be

more than enough.




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Cascade's picture

Last week I got 3 text

Last week I got 3 text messages around 2 30ish a.m all stating  Neil Peart is dead. This poem reminded me of that later morning after reading the text.

P.S. he was awesome though and I really like this a lot.

georgeschaefer's picture

Neil Peart was a brilliant

Neil Peart was a brilliant drummer and songwriter.  He will be missed.

Morningglory's picture


Nothing Ever Happens

Copyright © morningglory

georgeschaefer's picture

but sometimes everything

but sometimes everything happens

Morningglory's picture


SoOo much Happens!

Copyright © morningglory

Starward's picture

The details presented in this

The details presented in this poem create a very haunting, elegaic experience. Without direct;y stating the emotion, you present it---as did the great Imagists of the 20th century, and others, like TS Eliot.


[* /+/ ^]

georgeschaefer's picture

thank you.  I greatly

thank you.  I greatly appreciate the kind words.

Stephen's picture

Sad: Ram Dass also died very recently.


georgeschaefer's picture

Leary and Ram Dass both lived

Leary and Ram Dass both lived long lives--or at least got the life expectancy.  Interesting cultural figures both.  thanks for dropping by.