In Memoriam

You told me you had once
made love to a redwood tree,
and I didn’t doubt it for a moment.
You, last of the Beats, still had the strut
of Kerouac, and sang to the boys
as I imagine Whitman must have done
walking the infirmary halls of the Union.
You knew no distinction between Christ
and Calliope, all was catholic, all
became rosary as we received communion
from our bartender priest,
a Eucharist of beer
thicker than any shed blood.
If I had been able to discern
what you so often muttered
around stories of Auden and Yeats,
I would bury those words with you,
commit your loves to the ground.

Jeremiah Webster has published work in North American Review, Beloit Poetry Journal, Ruminate Magazine, Rock & Sling, Blue Canary, and The Midwest Quarterly. He teaches literature and writing in the Pacific Northwest.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to In Memoriam

  1. sonofwalt says:

    Ah, this is a fine memorial. Reminds me of my mentor, so much packed tightly but perfectly into a few lines, like many good books packed onto a small bookshelf.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.