Winston Smoked Me

I heard first his every growl rumble

Forming in that fertile place between

Mind, and men who listen.


Had to be agile in those tumultuous days

Content enough to be

Rolled, crimped, fired, drawn, or set aside.

Once grabbed away, felt

His shock, anger flare, fade

In seconds caught, recorded evermore.

Felt the sharp tension of eloquence

Shake the foundations of my place

shift the anchors of perception.

Flotsam I was on the tide of his vast thoughts,

Jetsam on the current of his words

Castaway on the tempest of his times.

Tasting his economy of speech

Promising tears and nothing more

My breath exhausted, fogging all of space

And time with his exhortation,

Energy, exhausting passion

To be free.

 © Philip Knight 2018