ON THE FADING OF STARS (for Heathcote Williams)

When one of the great voices fades

The world no longer knows how to listen;

Pictures are splintered and what was clear

In a cloud is wrenched loose.

Shining through it all is the light

That was initially formed to dare darkness;

Prising it open, like malnourished hands

On sweet fruit.

A special man has just died who I saw

Fashion light from his laughter;

A small electric bulb conjured

By the dexterous hands that wrote spells;

Dense invocations of words

And comprehensive poetics,

Erudite interrogations of the systems

And codes the failed sell.

And yet his was always success,

From early days, each endeavour;

Word photographs of the speakers

Or the stigmatics rage below stairs,

Then the spraying of truth

Across Ladbroke Grove, stars and places,

The saviour grace for the homeless

Whose continued torrent of language

Drowned out defeat and changed air.

The genius in the room with his

Fountain pen and mind water;  the source

Of all rivers for those that he befriended

And loved. A man whose clear life

Captured the fog found in others,

Crystallising intention before posting to hell,

Or above. The journalist of the heart,

And Poet of the eye, whose voice music

Fused word and meaning and turned

Disasters birds into doves.

From ravens to stars he flew with all

Through his writing; Now that a new

Migration has started and we will be

Watching the sky that’s now his.

We will see the perfect calligraphy

Of his lines in those streaks of dawn

And torn sunsets. Let each new thought

Now be his thought and our time with him

This life’s gift.

David erdos

1/7/17