Sammy’s boys

 

Dead heads

 Dead Heads

Upon the walls of the dead

They scrawl in their sin

Seeking the Grateful Head

No world for old men

The fat they stare back

In the slaughter stalls

In one morbid whack

The fatted calf falls

Who are these bastards

Depraved Roman ones

Void of the redeeming Word

My son, your son, we shun.

Jumpy at 69

Jumpy at fifty

It’s been fifty plus years since

this white boy dribbled up

The Red Devil court

Breaking again the press

passing off to Kenneth

or Calvin or Penny

never winning many 

He still wears the 

Mr Basketball award

from graduation ‘73

passes at the top of the key

long before it counted three. 

Soni

 Soni Fine

Why do artists 

Remain for so

Short a time?

Leaving before

The tapestry has

Faded in the sun

Long before the

Colors glow in

The shade

The jurors 

Judge the work

Unframed never

To hang

 Now all is

But a bright 

Memory 

before

time

Fades it away.

Farewell

Soni Fine.

I'm told she pass 'd away Tuesday in October of 2015

Klein time

 Klein Time

John Clare Stokes

Today I heard a knocking

It was at the degree

Of sixty

I knew he'd be coming

Burning day light, you see.

Upon the red Klein

Huret set to zero

A century I expect this time 

Toward Moniac we go.

Resting at the East Tower  

Huret at twenty five

Over the bars i cower 

Seventy-five more I cry!

Sand and pines 

Sand and pines

Will it ever end

Red Klein way ahead

Squares I spin.

Parched in a mirage 

Moniac and the end

There sits ole Rog

Offering me a fig newton.

To Roger Kosch Sessler

March 22, 1932

October 22, 2011

To 1981

 Back to Eighty one

John Clare Stokes

Take me back to October of eighty one

When we were free from all the devices

just sitting and talking as the day passes

fish frying with hush puppies soon done. 

Luther R Stokes Evangelistic Association 

1981 Annual outing

Crawfordville, Florida

Yield

 Yield

John Clare Stokes

You entered my intersection

From the left of me

Somewhere in my past

Mr John's taught me

I was to yield to you

I've spent a lifetime trying

To obey Mr John's

Today I let you cut me off

speed  

On through

I would have let you.

Eagle

 Sitting watching for jets to hit the moon, i had the camera in my lap when suddenly an eagle flew into the moon and over my head. And i missed it! I rarely see an eagle. It would have been the shot. There were few jets as well. 

In between

Between Ramah and Bethel. 

Judges 4:5.

My thoughts today are upon this journey between Ramah and Bethel, of the places we have rested, paused, dwelt and even turned back in our journey toward Tabor, with Jabin's chariots in pursuit.

Santa Fe

 Sanity Fe

I know it’s time

When upon politics i entwine

To load the yak

And sanity soon

Trickles back

Santa Fe

Goliath

 Goliath

He was the runt of the litter of boxers and Artance Raker of Shadeville gave him as a puppy to my daddy in Crawfordville for he couldn’t keep up and he didn’t have that smashed in boxer nose or those clipped ears. But what Artance missed was lil Goliath had the best disposition and showed it by quickly winning us all. We gave him several pet names, all to which he responded, Bosepbus, Rackisnap, Bo, Bob White, Lithy. He was so highly favored he rode shotgun or else he’d nudge his way into your lap, wherever the family went. About the only flaw I ever saw, or was it, was how, when we lived in Williston, when upon the long chain by the parsonage, and the brothers playing basketball across the street would have the ball stray toward him, he wouldn’t let them get it. They’d holler until someone heard and would come out, crawl under the house and throw it back. I don’t think the parsonage committee cared for him and I recall a few times a brave spokeswoman would say we must get rid of him. Goliath didn’t like those chained up days. When we moved to Lake City, at the parsonage on the lake, growing old, he whined one day to go outside. He immediately ran out and into Alligator Lake, catching an otter. Then, at the old home on Vickers where we had moved after my father retired from the FUM, down with dropsy in his legs, Bosepbus whined to get out, going immediately to uncover a huge frog in the bushes. The next day, unable to get up,  Dr Smith  cried as he put him to sleep. We carried him up to Crawfordville where he didn’t have to be confined on a chain or small yard and made him a fine resting place under the cool azalea’s where he loved to lay. Good runts don’t often come along. Goliath was one fine giant of a runt.

Balms of Gilead

 Amid the balms of Gilead 

Fridays can be days one looks forward to or days we dread, as we have that sixth sense, today they fire me, or the all come crashing down reality, unexpectedly, they did. It happened for one such. It’s happened to me, more than once. You never handle it gracefully. You fill your box and awkwardly go. 

And so all Friday, I dwelt beneath the cloud. 

Toward the end of day, finishing up at Dacier in Dowling Park, there in a side room off the main desk, an older gentleman was crooning on his guitar to the elderly lady residents. Love songs. But then, he began to sing the old hymn , the Love of God. I lingered. It was the balm from Gilead needed. I trust my friend with the box of belongings found her balm of Gilead too.