Day: March 1, 2023

Between wakefulness
and REM
there is a place
a dimension that I know
a dimension we both roamed

that dimension
the neuralspace of fantasy
of illusion
where imagination roams
a place where poetry lurks

it was each of us hunting
the fleetingly elusive poem
or powerful piece of writing
that eventually lead us
to where first our ideas met

here in this magical place
way far out in the ether
in the deep cyberspace
called the internet

for us two aging men
it was fresh and new
which made each day ahead
a most wonderful adventure

when
from site to site
from day to day
week to week and year to year
we’d write poetry
or we would just rant
about the world situation

kind congratulatory comments
offered to each other
on our boldness
on our brashness
on our badassness
or our dead-on accuracy
on the asshattery we encountered

and showing our respect
for other fine poets
and powerful writers
whose heads remained
in daylight
eyes wide open

everyday we found fodder
new things to write about
as time rolled ever on

our paths would uncross
from time to time
and we’d get separated
by circumstance or illness
or simply down time

but we’d eventually reconnect

new site with new energy
and we’d vigorously relaunch
our cyber-poet relationship

I remember so very well
our first encounter in 2005…

…This piece thumps & bumps
and shakes its ass, Rob,
written from the gut, and
rife with gems of recall from
the poet who was there. It
is like Raymond Chandler
meets Dashell Hammett for
a beer and a bump at the
Gladiator across the sticky
table from Larry Levi, where
even Scorsese could dream
of plots, and Paul Schrader
would bullshit with you until
dawn, where Ledbelly drops
in just before the sun and his
six string heralds the events
to come. I like your line
/steel-heart working girls/
for those ladies still stroll in
the subterranean streets midst
most of our souls…

that beast of writing
was all you my friend
when I read it
I knew…
we were kindred spirits

you took my breath away
with this amazing comment
left on my then poetry site
‘From The Red Chair’
in responce to my piece
“4:00 AM Omelettes”

the piece was about my years
as a catholic high schooler
starting at age 16-years-old
singing in the mafia-run
all night covert gambling dens
and nightclubs of Northern KY

I would later update and expend it
retitling it “sneakin’ up on breakfast”

all those wonderful years ago
you blew my damned mind
with that uber-brilliant
bit of outstanding writing

our ongoing encounters differed
in that sometimes I’d write a poem
then you’d compose a witty comment
or you would write a rantin’ ripper
and I’d be the mouth-gaped commenter

but our welcomed encounters
at first occasional
continued to increase
year after wonderful year

each filled with many fine days
when we were energized
by some brand new site
offering brand new challenges
represented by new writing prompts

or some bonehead world figure
or ridiculous world event
so many to choose from

sometimes humor
or memories of younger days

our lives were different
quite different externally
and yet we resonated
remarkably similar in our views
and deeper in our spirits

in looking at our common time
from our own unique perspective
we saw the world as a whole

all those thousands of days
stimulating days
wonderful days
those special days

and when
after many years
we finally met
zoom face to zoom face

and spoke together
with other fascinating poets
from around the globe
hearing them share their poetry
on dVerse OLN

those were truly great days

but not these recent days
not since you passed
the night before
my 76th birthday

an upsetting night for me
when I read of your death

never got to say adios
to you
or to your Buck

I am now bent
not only by the weight
of advancing age
and ever more consuming disease
but now by the yoke of sorrow

I am heavy
with the weight of loss

I am haunted
by the ghost of memory

how can such a void be filled
when one so mentally vital
with a huge spirit
is gone

so much wit and wisdom
frustration at the world
robbed from this world

lost when you passed

one who understood
the need for giving
in a careless crazy world
darkened by political greed
political stupidity

by a global pandemic
by war after war

a kind heart
truly unselfish
whose welcoming embrace
included all

Glenn — I will not forget
I will remember you
and all those days and years

that’s how I’ll fill this void

with the seeds of friendship
planted deep in cyber-soil
and inside my heart
now filled with grief

may they grow
to make the memories
richer and more precious

grow to make me gentler
and more grateful
for my loved ones
for my friends
and for the cyber poet buddies
still in my life

good-bye Glenn
farewell my friend
I will not forget

I will tend these seeds
you planted deep
and think of you

I will not forget

*
rob kistner © 2023

More poetry at: dVerse