This Poem was Submitted By: Jim Wilson On Date: 2001-05-28 08:07:03 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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#72 Greatest Generation-Joe Perry, Tom Brokaw & me

Seeing anew: the ahah!!, the palm to the forehead and, "of course." The light bulb of the cartoon balloon. Not changing my mind, brightening my mind. Reading the book, shortness of breath, discovery. Redirection of attitude and perception. I had no idea, so I watched what I did. I started reading a book, and ended brightening my mind. Alternating flow and analysis. Sort of easy to do. Analysis is feeling strange. Flow is strange feeling. Where would I go? Would I stop? Would I know where I was? Book to thoughts to me. Flow is soft, easy and free. An era, a culture, a window to see. What's important?..Not yet! This is flow. To be there, not to analyze. Winds blow; thoughts flow. Then there is the picture of Joe. In the hall at 1826 Sayles, leather jacket, fur collar, headset, baseball cap, young, just like Memphis Belle. Gunfire! He's hit. Somehow he made it. I study. In the hall at 1826 Sayles, the person of Joe behind me, bath robe, house shoes, cancer fighter,  Not so young. Malignant fire, He's hit. He's not going to make it. I study. This is not the time to live in now. I don't know what to ask. He doesn't offer. We live in now, and I am out the door. What do I think?...Analysis time. So I watch what I think to see what flows out. Analysis and flow meld maybe. My observer post is alerted. I occupy my tower of viewing. I light my candle of insight. The quiet returns. I drive off down the street, book on the dashboard. Joe Perry, Tom Brokaw, and me.

Copyright © May 2001 Jim Wilson


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