James McGurk in his own words: brief bio/born in ’35 Phila PA 77 yrs old/writing for close to 40 yrs/no degrees/hs ed/writing book “The Hobo, the Dragonfly and the Sparrow,” never published, never really tried/on FB/can’t remember the blog/don’t wanna bore you/smashed finger/pls excuse typing.
Spirit Drums
By James McGurk
The melting sun
Descending in a fiery ladle
Drenching sky and ocean
In multifarious hues
Yielded to night spirits
Holding eagle feathers
And wearing moccasins
Chanting prayers
To drums of thunder
Over men women children
Wearing hooded shirts jeans boots
Carrying nets candle lanterns empty buckets
Ceremonial vessels from tradition
Handed down by elders
Standing in spirit with them
On bridges catwalks
Leaning over salt crusted railings
Lowering their lighted lanterns
And nets billowing
In ghostly gossamer ballet
Above rippling current
Sparkling moonstones on a lagoon
Carrying elusive crustaceans
Into an ocean
Where life evolved
Into hunter or hunted
Under a luminary beacon
Voyaging across all
Celebrating a nocturnal feast
Descending in a fiery ladle
Drenching sky and ocean
In multifarious hues
Yielded to night spirits
Holding eagle feathers
And wearing moccasins
Chanting prayers
To drums of thunder
Over men women children
Wearing hooded shirts jeans boots
Carrying nets candle lanterns empty buckets
Ceremonial vessels from tradition
Handed down by elders
Standing in spirit with them
On bridges catwalks
Leaning over salt crusted railings
Lowering their lighted lanterns
And nets billowing
In ghostly gossamer ballet
Above rippling current
Sparkling moonstones on a lagoon
Carrying elusive crustaceans
Into an ocean
Where life evolved
Into hunter or hunted
Under a luminary beacon
Voyaging across all
Celebrating a nocturnal feast
