For George Michael

Blonde and
high alto
it was a throat
made of a special soul,
the edge
of serenity,
at one
with the
from a
living motion.
We learned of a pop sound,
but not pop,
not fully
the trivial
in the
exagerated gyrations;
(nearly cockney) .

Supple and
young, thoughts
never died; the
turntable, so much a
mechanical Adam
of funky
auras, beat in the
blood, the sole
place for it, and
excitement never
dwelled outside
of closeness.
Something touched
not just us
but the bottom
of seas
cultural kisses,
and Americans
British invasions.

by Lamont Palmer

Comments (1)

Strong sensual imagery that makes one FEEL and, therefore, more fully UNDERSTAND.