The Past is Always Right Here, James Newton

Marcy Newton, left, me, top, James, bottom, LeAnn, right.

James Newton is a giant in my life. He kept me alive in the 80s & 90s. I saw his Facebook page for the first time this week, and he had posted two pictures of me. What does it bring back? Hot late nights, cooking steaks on an outside makeshift grill, poems, songs, spinning vinyl records, constant calibration of young, raw, natural energy. A knowledge it could never be repeated. I think of you always and forever, James, my brother.

Maybe the mid-80s in my study in Arlington.

On James’ Birthday

(Mid-80s) 

Unwrap this, it’s for you

to take along on your search

for the perfect back beat

and still sea.

On this still-light morning

breaths draw slowly.

Sleeping bodies throughout

the house, too much drink

last night. The still cat

sits in the window sill

staring outside.

Beyond is the Great Outdoors

but what is it?

In last night’s dream

there was a man with

three hooks piercing his

chest, bound and hanging

on a swaying rope.

Is he you and me?

Now comes the first morning sound.

A bird feeling the Sun

on its tongue on another

moment of birth.