For Simon Schattner

Photo by Bill Perrault



The Target

Digging in the dirt.
It hurts.
It squirts
Zerts.

Write the dream
Of the scream:
That seems
Like a good theme.

I’m not that kind of guy.
I eat pie.
The kind in the sky.
You may well ask why.

I’m just killing time,
Looking for a rhyme.
Or a good time.
Got a dime?

Label the vials,
in the styles
Of the miles
of files.


--Gordon Marshall



Walking at Walden Pond...

you taught me
when language surrenders itself
to a kind look
to a quick touch
or a walk
it is then
we all come closer
together and then
when the chaos diminishes
once in a while
in the silence
love just appears.

Walking with Simon
it happened for me
that day at Walden Pond.


--Ann Carhart



Macaroons

I miss you Simon
And that silver Jewish star that hung
So loosely around your neck
The one you wore so proudly
It used to dance when you recited your poems
Or gave your long introductions of your identity
Poet, songwriter, spiritual guru – but we just
Knew you as Simon really – a legend
In your own image, always thankful
The last time we spoke,
I learned more about your past
The drinking, drugs and arrest but then
You discovered poetry and therapy
And that saved your life – we sat in Carberry’s
As I listened to your beyond any of your poems
A Simon I never knew – direct and even more sincere
I remember also how you loved macaroons
At the poetry readings, and you were so glad
That they were kosher – “you were thinking of me”
You said once, “you know how much I love these, I mean
I am too poor to keep kosher but I love these”
So I miss you Simon and your invented rhymes
And quirky sayings, you will always be here in my heart.


--Deborah M. Priestly