Author Information
"Counting Prose for Meredith"
Folder:
Tributes by Jeph Johnson
Adam Duritz gets my muse
to dance around his video,
but all I get's the blues
and still can't see her on my stereo.
though I plug my headphones in
and crank the volume up to ten,
I shrug my shoulders when
the clones outrank their origin,
and daisies roll as tumbleweeds
to one end of my brain,
like what lazy, warm and humble dreams,
I once deserved contained.
then black birds hover like a fixed death
while I calculate Maria,
Anna and Elisabeth
to poignant rhymes and rhythms,
and wonder still if Meredith
isn't a thinly veiled allusion
hanginaround my TV set
to assail my conclusions
