It's not a tribute. I just want everyone to know he was a great guy.

He sent me this once, among other things. I'll miss Nathan Melis talkin' here.

My Anthem


Love hides in the open world
on bright winter afternoons.

We call it blind
but just as soon find Love
drew our portrait
years before we met.

How do I greet you, Love?
There is no salutation, smile, kiss, hug
equal to the thin glove
you hold out for truth alone.

Yet if Love is stone
thought, movement, language, emotion, age
grow brittle as teeth.
Let Love leaf
organic and strange
from shady flexible branches.

Love dances on its own grave -
a common image -
but even Art must have the courage
to be sentimental.