The eschatological overreach 
   at the end of days
Stretching to touch the 
     asymptotic wonder
   just out of reach
The Joycean thunder word 
Echoing up from bottom 
     of the wale of song

The crowd pulsing
With the sympathetic
    resonance of gratitude 
  The finality of the last song
The tide still wears down
The ancient sea stones 
     At the bass of time

At Winterland 
In an impulse of 
     psychedelic wonder
I had jumped up on stage
  ran between Bob and Jerry
at their mics
   and sat in the empty plush chair
     at the back of the stage

Someone grabbed my arm 
   to guide me off stage,
     Gently 
     Firmly
I then looked across at Phil
   Still playing with an impish grin 
     a wink for me

I looked to the person 
  guiding me
Off stage 
Bill Graham looked me in the eye
“That chair was for 
Pigpen’s spirit, not you”

Escorted off and out
   the stage right door
I was met by death’s incarnation 
    the seventh seal
“After party  
Jack Tarr hotel,
Room 257” 
  with a silky 
   calm void blank aura

      I didn’t go

The next morning 
  An eagle 
    or was it a vulture?
Circled high above me
   at the bus stop 
an impish grin
     a wink for me

On the ground again
The metaphysical 
  Nature of Reality 
just on the other side
     Long black veil 
   We can almost touch
  We can always almost join
The asymptotic unknown …
Death

Oct. 28, 2024 SGL Brunswick, ME