rasputin wants his beard back

signature phrases marked him like invisible tattoos

his identity a shifting code

of beliefs and soundbytes spoken so quickly that his

terminal illness couldn't keep up

the unmistakable aroma of cloves hung about his lips

and goatee like a deep marinade lending flavor to his sermons.

 

he brooded shadow thin on the razor edge of his thoughts

flicking ash to keep tempo as he quietly spun poetry

into the grand pattern of human experience.

 

he has handed out the signs of the apocolpyse on

new orleans street corners

hand crafted linux systems in chicago

and interwoven shakahachi mysteries in hot arizona

jam sessions.

 

he lives life knowing that time is short

and that language is forever

and to know him is to have his spirit stitched

to your bones.

 

signature phrases marked him like invisible tattoos

his identity a shifting code of beliefs and soundbytes

spoken so quickly that his terminal illness will never catch up.

Reviews

[D. Elizabeth]

You breathe life onto the page, and penetrate the heart. You have a gift that can touch people, and I hope to read more of your pieces. I especially loved, "and to know him is to have his spirit stitched

to your bones." For recently having undergone brain surgery, I at times have felt like this. But free because I know that life truly is a tremendous gift. Much respect. XO D.Elizabeth

[Yira Simone]

I get the feeling you are speaking about traveling preachers or zealots. I loved the imagery you used in this one as well. I like how you showed he was universal...almost, if not exactly like Jesus. You always have a way of making the reader "think" and not just read. You are on a roll my friend!-Catrina