On Dead Friends & Hoodoo

she fell
like she done a swan dive
off a ferris wheel—

left the basket shaking
long after she gone.

in a still breeze
her body shake
and rattle. We watch,

and we know
tomorrow won’t come
while her body fall.

but we still look for her ghost in the cornfields.

[pictured: my favorite poet and former professor at a reading in Milwaukee, one of the single most talented blues poets of his generation]