Now my friend is dead
and it hurts my head
having to figure out now
what to do instead of us
playing all the time and
crawling into caves at
midnight after hiking up
the canyon in the dark
listening to Station 3
mixing up another deck
sledding down the mountain
on a late winter's night
singing songs together
of our legend in the fight
against all the hordes
of evil with our fellows
right behind us at our backs
when we were one big tribe
forged of the moments with
each other built in time
this Castle Ground Zero
exists in the cloud erected
as turrets of vapor fall
and rise within the crowd
now I look into and see
my friend withdrawn from me
his hand reaching out to claw
at me dissolving in futility
Its okay these visions come
and go along with the wind
that blows inside this hollow
head remembering my friend
Greg, I wrote this poem for you
because we all know there was
nobody else in the world even
remotely like you in any way
conceivable for us to compare
with you were always there for
us in your dusty boots and armor
shining in the Sun way before
the black shadow of death
conspired of a sudden to keep
all our inspiration one desire
to be swallowed by the dream
as a photo synthetic shadow
of light thrown out in a rosary
configuration of magnetic star
shine conducts our ongoing life
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