with a heart that rings like Schubert's piano strings
and words that fly like Keats' and Yeats' poetry
with an eye that sees, like M. C. Escher or Ansel Adams
to measure the river like Mark Twain
and the ocean as only Melville can fathom

"the only people for me are the mad ones...
the ones who are mad to live
mad to talk, mad to be saved
desirous of everything at the same time"

with a lust for guts and depth and truth
like P. J. Harvey
and a knack for love and melody like Paul McCartney
like Malcolm Gladwell finds and expresses the good
or to forecast the terrible but not inevitable
like Margaret Atwood

"the only people for me are the mad ones...
the ones who never yawn or say a common place thing
but burn burn burn
like fabulous yellow roman candles
exploding like spiders across the stars"

For Whit