Third
poem I’m writing for you since I heard the news
Still
trying to hit the tenor that was Vertigo and I’m failing miserably
You
were just plain weird and I mean that in the best possible weird light that can
possibly be summoned in these dark days where people play with shit and pretend
its Play-Doh
Third
poem and maybe it’ll do the trick like a third leg or a third wife or a third
secret bank account that your third significant other doesn’t know exists
The
Boys from Brazil can go fuck themselves because even Babs knows cloning your
dog or a Führer is a slippery slope
You
were benevolent in the strictest sense of the word because you understood
giving only gets you more and as you shuffled off this mortal coil I bet your
karma was at an all-time high
It’s
no accident that the first time I was published in decades was by Poet’s Haven
because you’re the only person in Cleveland who understood it’s about the work
and not the celebrity or ego that silences productivity and shuns the true
artists
I
wanted you to accept me because I’m funny that way and I knew when it came to
you there were no cliques and that everyone was invited into the tent, politics
be damned
I
don’t know what happened and why your light was turned off so prematurely, but
what I do know is as creative beings go you never shirked away from the
responsibility of putting your shoulder to the wheel and actually making a discernible
difference when it came to anything and everything art related beneath the
hotspot sun.
Charles Cicirella
8/4/19 
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