Buckminster Fuller

Buckminster Fuller

Buckminster Fuller picked me out that day...
London ‘75
Everyone was swooning but he spoke to me.
I did not know who he was
Other than an old grey man with a soft voice

The great Buckminster SPOKE to YOU ?
Yes...and I said ..who is he ?
It did not feel as tho’ a winged God had landed on my shoulder.
I didn’t know about the Black Mountain then...

Am I too late to be a Black Mountain Poet ?
...A Black Bear poet.
Hey. Where is everybody ? Are you all dead..?
The silence is eerie.

I didn’t know a lot then.....
But now I want to be a Black Mountain Poet...
Are you all gone...?
Have I missed out ?
Are the curtains drawn over
Closed and draped over his tombstone.
His bones rattling as his words sit in books .

Will I find Buckminster Fuller in the Bargain Basement
A yellow sticker with a knockdown mountain price?

Is this what it comes to in the end.
Black Mountain romance is dying on my lips..
That big Black Mountain art...

The great B.F. spoke to me back then...but...
I can’t remember a word he said .

Kristine Byrne...26th feb. 2011