sweet poet of my highschool years
when up was the word
and Billy the Kid
fired blanks at Mr Death
and the world
grew greener from March
to the end of May your pomes
would zing me
rouse my right of spring
my lift of love
my song of every
wholly and most unholy thing
since girls and youknowwhat
were always in my head
(my heart was still asleep)
you led me sighing
on the way
toward something
almost sane
so I say
thank you