Dylan

a young man once sang out
as if his blood could fountain but he would not die
fearless, with flesh shining like movie screens
and animal documentaries flashed across his face
arms upraised in a V shape as if designed by Tesla
destined for electric coils to spurt and sputter
above his head uplifted because the sky talks
as he opened his mouth and tried to shout
rejoice 
in a way
that drilled him by his soul into the ground
and astronomers on other planets saw
hope
and hurried away from their telescopes
to tell their kids, their wives, their mothers,
their brothers and, hardest of all,
fathers
the finest prayer we ever heard
a surprise of anger in a guitar strum
hesitation before the witching
line of streetlights in the night fog
we follow as our only truth
until we stop, light a cigarette
and linger
in wonder
at every song's demand we
join him where
the river flows