When he meets people, people who appreciate poetry
perhaps in particular, his poetry, or his friends poetry,
or just poetry in particular, to him, (Robert Bly)
this is what its all about! The multi rhythm in people,
the actions, the warmth, the voice, the cold, and the face
he sees it all and more, it is all poetry to him, 24-7
its his bread and water, his wine and song,
his reason for living beyond the unknown.
I have read all his poetry, his eyes and soul look deep into
the abyss, concentrated his hands remain steady,
his mind never escapes his eyes and heart, and thinking.
Meeting another person is a big thing, it is a new path
a new song, perhaps a new foundation somewhere yet to be;
it is all we have here on earth, in this time period, you and me.
It is simple how it works, so it seems, or so it should be,
and perhaps he found the essence of life, the secret of living, between human beings. He
re-examines the nature and function of man, man being his poetry, he goes even further,
traditional distinctions between high and low, he lives inside his language, a physical world, in
imagery, his external reality, it is all in his face, his hands, his smile, his poetry.
Note: I had only met Mr. Bly once, he did send my wife a post card, after I did an article on him some years back, and he did send me once a letter with is signature on it, and I had once got an invitation to go to his house, back in the 1980s, during my drinking days, but never made it. We really cannot make up for lost time, or lost invitations, but we can look for new ones. And so here is a poem to the worlds last great poet, the last of his kind.
See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.comAlexander Graham Bell