The Humble Crafter
for Paul Violi
I am thinking of you and the whimsical
grace with which you lived and taught; the humor
you enjoyed, imbued; the daily rumor
of your wit; life’s confusion, its musical
charm—a drunk, Irish priest on a bicycle
delivering the gospel of “do more
god than ham before you sniff the tomb,” or
veer sharply into the metaphysical
fish cart. What more wincing balm than laughter
coaxed from savage jaws of self-importance?
A ransom note haiku, published at birth:
the threat of beauty by a humble crafter,
demanding that we greet our happenstance
by marveling at what one life is worth.