THE MELODIOUS POEM PAINTER
In memory of Tony Vaughan
His liberty was animal
the ground of the flying sky;
a horse, a whinney of delicate Mayan rebuses,
an owl that never would 'oot for Aitch.The thing about him
was there was nothing about him, only here
and so now his not being doesn't really
seem realbecause every magical
spark on the street---poem or
artwork or sound out of guitar, banjo or kalimba---
reminds us Tony Vaughan is mischieving aroundwith a sensual plaint
of poem or plunk of paint. Let's
just say life's jointure between winks and
the closing of the lids by death's double -kiss.His smile's for a haiku eternity
'cause he's forever
seventeen.© --- Jack Hirschman
Photogragh of Tony Vaughan
© Sean O'Donnell
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