Monday Poem


—I imagine you still playing

You said to me,
unclejim teach me guitar,
and what little I knew I did
You took it and flew, a musical id,
and the places you flew, the music that slid
from fingers to strings was by god a grace bridge,
the kind walked on in skies where geese are
where love and you are
where god's hid
and all


Jim Culleny