Debonair dude,

bird thou never wert.

Fly high, higher, highest,

higher than that, far.

Lionhearted lover

roaring of sex,

death and tantric

miracles. You rode

the wave, surfed above

and beyond beatitudes

to a still harmonic

humming.

Cool customer,

hot to the touch.

In Eternity,

you pose the ecstatic,

unanswerable koan.

“Before you can pry any

secrets from me you must

first find the real me.

Which one will you

pursue?’’

Mane, mind and

scrotum, you are ready

to meet your Maker,

and ours, in a blue velvet

Paradise.

Death be not

proud, nor is it humble.

Jesus, he was a

handsome man. Time

to abolish the honorifics,

Mr. Death.