Jim’s brain was wired
Differently from the rest,
Precise yet whimsy.

His mind,a gold trap,
Designed with wild curlicues
Wisdom every touch.

His broad intellect
Never tired through night’s shade
Urging us forward.

He was wise, so wise,
In words and in silences,
Holding fast to thought.

Creativity
In his soul’s rich measures
Not lightly come by.

As if from Dreamtime
Fine fellow wakes us wildly,
For night was his time.

An ode ,not enough.
His calm death brings us to life,
Floods our memories

With exotic dreams
Eccentric movies all starred
Never dulled by time.

Bird of ink’s darkness,
Path our way, bright rare aesthete,
With ease of wing’d flight.

Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia
October 23, 2019