Just the poem I needed to fire up a rain-soaked afternoon. I am still chuckling over the 'glum geniuses prowling/ record stores, not getting a lot done, / mistaken for clerks with gum on our shoes.' This poem is a wild and worthy trip.
Joyce, I truly enjoyed your poem. Great philosophy, and one I share. I especially love the images in the last verse paragraph. The new freedom of ice breaking up on a river, the deep comfort and plenty, of soaking rain, the friendship and camaraderie of the hand reaching out, the warmth of a fire, and always the smoke rising to where we are all going.... Lovely.
My favorite lines: ground-crust of dry-burnt moss:
love shook his body like a devastation
moss, beggar, weed, tick, pine, self, magnificent
Because I got sidetracked by the abstract lines, I was relieved to find the lines above.