for Len

“What do you think of Orpheus’ lyre?”
“What does it mean to play so well
You draw the animals from the forest
Into the energy of your art?” Len asked
After a day of bourbon and holy smoke,
After hours of creating poetry in conversation,
Finding sanity in beauty, and refuge in rhetoric.
Finally I said, “maybe it was a weapon.”
Len paused, looked at me for a long time
And said, “yeah, man, it was a weapon.”