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By Jack Joseph Smith
Penny Love Steven Friend
Where earth and Sky seperate and make art
Fighting is a gift, beat to death, snap
your fingers, and then quick, you can fight
The language of art you taught me so well
Never drawing a picture I can realize a gallery
Trouble so close to my soul, yet sight so good
I see how you watched out for others, so many
hapless and those with promise you took in,
put up, and showed direction, really countless
your good works,, since meeting you in early
sixty seven in the hills of Echo Park, Silver
Lake, up to the mid seventies on the Mc Kenzie
grateful river home; all time knowing nothing
is better, walking after war or during romantic
film toward a kiss, or even maybe shattered
with buckskin on on a lance
Thanks