oh he was a hard case...
stubborn and a trial to his loved ones
but true to his vision for it...
great (and I mean GREAT) poet
and a great teacher...ever at his best
in the middle of a circle
guiding the discussion back
to each speaker so they may
gauge the fullest of their contribution
oh...infuriatingly...he has left this sphere
difficult his own demons
and sadly they howl in triumph...but fuck them...
they brought him down
but they didn't kill him nor could they ever destroy the work
he has left for the rest of us
I take the liberty of posting here one of his poems
he is not here any longer...but he is not gone....
GOODBYE TO KINDLING AND SOUL - Russell Clay
I am alone the bottle, my precious glass
Is gone among papers flying circles around me
In the wind, but I am warm against the
Bleachers of the Lemon Street stadium
And not long for this world, not long
For the night that hides my hand from my eye.
This is my corner of the world, my bed
Singing me back to Kentucky and
Horses to tend.
I followed the cry of pain in the night-
A black mare stumbled and broke her foot
Birthing a foal that ran as soon as it stood
And blew the breath of her ghost to the moon
With the shot of a pistol in her head.
That is the song. I sing the bottle dry
Splitting hickory over on Church Street for
Bus fare home in the morning.
This is my last night beneath the stars,
To kindling and soul, and asking why.
Content (c) 2008=2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.