For Martin Harrison

                                             “I sing the joy of wandering 
                 and the pleasure of the wandering death …”
                                                      Guillaume Apollinaire

I replay your voice with every word I borrow from the dictionary, 
again, and again, as it hits a page, embedded. And as the 
words get harder your voice gets weaker in memory and I fear if 
I keep writing, well …

You know what will happen?
Visions of the road become in my mind, journeys 
we took, words you shared with me that I tried to pass to others, 
in-kind. Acoustic resonance in our textual-scapes, lyrical tracks 
and precious liner notes, that I hold close from being 
consciously wiped …