Jim Boone Poems

Love lifted me from its field in
the heart of Dallas, Texas to the
sidewalks of New York in 1964
with a chartered flight the good
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By Allen Ginsberg that defined the ‘Beat Generation'

Lock up a poet in an ‘asylum' and poetry will happen
Ginsberg "saw the best minds of (his) generation
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And the wonder of you is what I miss

You became my world - my universe
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Perched on the old oak tree
Blown out of the sky
By hurricane force winds
Surrounded by dazed songbirds
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In the garden of seasoned contentment
You light on my outstretched arms
And bless the reach and movement
Of the harpist mesmerizing runs
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There’s a tranquility
That’s seldom breached
A landscape bountiful
In history of architecture
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John Dye Is Dead

The ‘Angel of Death’
Touched by an Angel
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Met A Physic

Who claimed/had psychic powers
Spoke to my day/night dreams
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A kid in a small town, in the ‘middle of the most’
With a yen for Hollywood intervention hums/sings
“If happy little bluebirds fly, beyond the rainbow
why, oh why can’t I? ” Good question kid! !
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Gotta go – always
No roots, just wheels
No strings, just tambourines
A tapestry of friends and lovers
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