Leonard Cohen fell
An unfurled bejeweled leaf
Dying in his sleep
Crumbled powdered milk
That fed sleeping baby’s breath
Until it soughed sweet
Birds on winter’s wire
Heard the song, transposed it to
Rime and snow’s desire
Melted down in March
Splitting fecund soil’s soft skin
Waking bud children
Rose up summer songs
The summer choirs lit in lace
And emerald hues
Til days grew drowsy
Songs whirred from insects’ dry wings
Petals’ flung rings and
Leonard Cohen fell
An unfurled bejeweled leaf
Dying in his sleep
About Eugene Jones Baldwin
I am a writer: non-fiction, fiction, journalism (Alton Telegraph), essays (The Genehouse Chronicles) and have a website: eugenebaldwin.com. I've published a couple dozen short stories and had eleven plays produced. Current projects: "Brother of the Stones" (available on Kindle), a book of short stories; "The Faithful Husband of the Rain, short stories"; "A Black Soldier's Letters Home, WWII,;" "There is No Color in Justice," a commentary on racism; "Ratkillers," a new play.
I am an avocational archaeologist and I take parts of my collection of several thousand Indian artifacts (personal finds) to schools, nature centers, libraries etc. and talk about the 20,000 year history of The First people in Illinois. (See link to website)
I'm also a playwright (eleven plays produced), musician, historian (authority on the Underground Railroad in Illinois, the Tuskegee Airmen) and teacher.
