Category: Poem

To James Randi I know you’d come back if anyone were able, surely nudge the planchette, or yet tip the tipping table to spell messages at will. I wouldn’t need daydreaming to see you, maybe streaming      vaporized           ectoplasm      before my eyes,      or otherwise return      despite the chasm,           from the …

You castoff the last shadows, shacklesfrom long life.You were a gift. Crowdswere so drawn to your cause you seemed permanently bowedby their applause. I thumb through my mind’s snapshots to findyou performing again— almost as if, some way,while I hold my breath,you escape death for another day.