R.I.P. Leonard Cohen

On hearing the Memorial Concert for Leonard Cohen
after his death one year ago

R.I.P. LEONARD COHEN

Back in 1969
a year particularly fine
when the phone never rang
we made love as Leonard sang
My Italian lover, English poor
Could hardly make sense of his grandeur
"the songs are very triste ma bella
the cantante, a serious fella"
We fucked away the afternoons
from September to December
long beyond our passions harsh
continued deep into late March
as Leonard sang of Mary Ann
and tales of many others
of Sisters and Brothers
and Monks of many colors
At the vernal equinox we parted friends
circumstance deemed an end
and I went on to new loves and passion
as was the way in those day's fashion
But Leonard, a surrealist divine
left us all so far behind
pursuing Gods of a different nation
hiding arrogance in subjugation
His words were grit with holy writ
his melodies without a hint
of where he pulled his magic from
he sought clearness and beyond
Miles away he became a monk
I saw him as the distance shrunk
a tall man in a saffron robe
seeking peace he atoned
for all the sins he'd piled on
all the bodies he'd laid on
the promises he never kept
the nights he tried but never slept
One thing is plain to see,
he loved himself
then God, then pussy
Now he's gone a year ago
struck down like all of us below
I'd like to think he's up above
perhaps with someone that he loves
Someone other than himself
someone left still on the shelf
or on a throne from which to see
there is no end to eternity
Madness is no mystery
it comes to us with uncertainty
I know he sought some happiness
as so have I in this life's mess
To question is to pry the lid
from a can of salted squid
The secret of life is not well hid
it's in the living that we did
We only had to look around
to see in truth that we were found
I think of him on this sad day
and my lost lover far away
Perhaps she too lies in the tomb
Await my love, I'm coming soon