A Poem for John Mansfield

 a fine woodworker polishes his roughcut to best accentuate the grain

poets do that too, tinkering with words

here's my latest version of Golly John

Golly John

We made folks in this county get development permits

Be it fixing a roof or replacing a window

But you just off & die on us?

On the way home to Colorado from Cali

No permit. No notice

That big fat Buddhist ensō of no thing

You knew the heart sutra

Nothing's permanent about 

a Zen cleaver

Chuckled along with the rest of us 

when the Blues Brothers 

bombed on the Valley Floor

You took risks

Worked with kids who said they wanted a lifeline

Tossed them into rafts & ran the rapids

I liked you best over coffee 

in the morning's repartee at Mesa Rose

Pioneer old-timers. Ex-Telluriders

Feisty Floridian short-timers 

who loved to crocodile 

& then told great snapping stories

You took leadership

Wore your advocate jeans. Mixed drinks

& mediums

Some saw you as a fine art cartoonist

who illustrated our absurdities

 Watercolored in the silences

But golly, John. You took a damn quick exit

After shuffling up & down Grand Avenue 

for the last ten years

Manifesting 

that wry savvy calm 

behind the half-smile

Coyote artist. Trustee. Officer of the Peace

Tickling wit out of whim

Fancy out of the angler's cast & spin

One fine spring day, all of a sudden

you spun on an eddy in Whitewater 

& left

Leaving us now unable to imagine

a Wrights Mesa without your

ambling shoes. Your tinkering brushes