Fallen
John’s only tether whizzed through the belay
untied from the cliff he ended his day
a rag doll falling to the desert floor
scared Fuck the last word he’d ever utter.
Every bone broken, every dream dashed,
he now resides in my memory, cached.
Steelworker, poet, a Hulk Hogan clone,
arms thick as corded rope, in Tucson known
for having fine weed and finer women
but then he died and took our joy with him.
Bold hero to some, stoned cad to others,
I was honored to call him my brother.
Many have fallen, some quiet in bed,
the damn list grows longer, good friends now dead.
14 thoughts on "Fallen"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
wonderful exercise in form
This is one where I legitimately did not notice the form until I read this comment, which is the goal, I think! Bill’s on fire with the fixed forms.
The form gives this poem a beautiful rhythm.
“Steelworker, poet, a Hulk Hogan clone,”
That line is awesome!
Wow. From steel worker and Hulk Hogan
to an untethered rag doll. Just wow!
heroic, brother. 😉
I like how the first two lines give the action and the flashback on his life follows.
You have a knock for memorializing the people you have loved. Far from making gods out of them, you recall their flaws as well as strengths, each you embrace equally. This is how a friend writes.
caught me with this unstoppable dreaded sound and physical movement:
only tether whizzed through the belay
Agree with Lee about seeing the whole of this man, his strengths and weaknesses.
I agree that you “write the wholeness.” I really felt his death via this poem even the last word, fuck!
Heartbreaking poem, Bill. The form is the hammer.
Yeah, what they said.
This one is formed so well I too did not see the form.
I love it when that happens,
Akhmatova does it sometimes and it is always a delight for me.
I’ll put on a suit if I’m invited to your pulitzer speech.
Don’t bust out the tux anytime soon. This is an attempt at heroic couplets, not sure I got it right, but I like the end result.
Powerful elegy, Bill!
I agree with Greg. You had me at the energy of line in “whizzed through the belay” and built this elegy that is not elegiac but full of life and love.