Poem by Daniel M. Shapiro   •   Photo by David Chauvin

Poem for Tim Buckley's "Love from Room 109 at the Islander
(on Pacific Coast Highway)"


You changed an old man filled with pity
back to a child again
, he sings at age 22.
Picture James Dean in "Giant," hair dyed gray,
ersatz wrinkles conjured by makeup artists.
Life would not imitate the art of aging.

Song No. 3 begins at the ocean, where a madman
makes tape recordings of waves crashing,
carving graffiti in silt. He strives to compile
chords that always change, chords that never grow old
because they are the sounds of motion reshaping.

We're conditioned to believe love peaks between the singer
and a woman. We might miss the plea for cleansing,
the madman's quest to find the rhythm and time of you,
stripping music to its origin. The right key or perfect pitch
means nothing to the man who yearns only to return.

Back        •        Contents        •        Next