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HIS LITTLE BLACK BITCH
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JOURNAL # 37
the third time we spoke
he introduced me to
'His Little Black Bitch'
I was enamored of her tone
while tenderly taken aback
by his own grace and grip
of life's mystique
so many songs for me he strummed
and sang
leading me through a montage of
his musical amazon's plume
the colorful threads of connection
grew steadily strong
the budding leaves of knowledge
sprout in a sprig of beauty
like a Claire de Lune
and at the heels of such tireless praise
we meet
we communicate
we collaborate
we evolve
to bravely become
more than what we were
prior to each our pale plain
of oneness
separate beings cleaving to
one idea of companionship
is difficult to grasp
the ideal of what such brevity
in time's general passing
our initial meeting could mean
but I was given a key to a door
and allowed the momentum
to swing it wide open
with the wonder of
my own expressive joy de vive
at having discovered such
a riveting sanctum of a
beautifully fractured man
and peer inside
and in there, I saw
his gentle wounded heart
he keeps warm
with the tender mercies lull of
his cherished music
at hand
how can I find fault in
him with that
he who runs to what
gives him peace
when indeed
alike spirits are we
I with my words and he
with his music of notation
there are reflections of something
quite valuable
in these lives we each reveal
through our unguarded conversations
so sir
as you were
stroke your little black bitch
this way and that
as to this page I stroke my
faithful pen
and to this plateau of shared
reason
we begin yet again
dare you even try
to be the tiniest bit surprised
by my latest artful insinuation
that your spirit
flawlessly compliments mine
and I shall make not
any further mention
ever again
and this poem will
live the life of a deaf mute
ever more
between us...................
(March 10, 2010 248am)
