For Steve Kowit

By Karen Kenyon

“Every element in your body is from a star.” Nova/PBS

Tear open your heart — like a giant purse
it will pour out memories
and yearnings,
keys to doors you will never open.

And you must read the others
who have also dipped into this world
even if in another language
of the soul.

Take your own broken pen
and scratch
their words
on trunks in forests.

Feel the pain of those in cities of hospitals,
or in shacks of cold wormwood,
Know they are you also.

Stir Shakespeare’s salt into your bitter tea.

Notice
how everything fits together,
though it’s a puzzle
you may wish to dissemble

Be alone in your solitude
so that a blue ink fills you,

Swim in sorrow’s sea,
develop gills
until you can rise.

Then rejoice
in the pink air,
the tangerine clouds,
the salmon floating in the sunset sky.

Know and cherish the one who may come
to share it with you
for a
time,

And lament each one who leaves
us
here. And remember that
today
we must

raise our glasses,
empty of wine,
full of scattered
words —
A poet has died today.

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Karen Kenyon

Karen Kenyon is the author of Sunshower (a memoir), G.P. Putnam’s Sons, NY; The Brontë Family/Passionate Literary Geniuses, Lerner Publications, Minn. and Endeavor Media, London; and Charles Dickens/Compassion and Contradiction, Endeavor Media, London. She has features published in Newsweek; British Heritage; The Christian Science Monitor; and other publications. Her poetry has been in small journals, The Christian Science Monitor, and San Diego Free Press. She currently teaches for UCSD-X; SDSU’s Osher program; and SD Writers Ink.

Latest posts by Karen Kenyon (see all)

• ‘Seize the King’ at La Jolla Playhouse: Self-Righteousness, Greed and Lust for Power - September 12, 2018
• Our Fathers - June 16, 2018
• ‘Community Hero’ Attorney Steve Binder and San Diego’s Homeless Court Program - April 18, 2018