From The Joy of Lex:
Life With A Service Dog
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BLACK GOLD
Keats’ advice to “fill every rift with ore”
was so much slag – silver moons and golden
sunsets were not for me. The mother lode
for my meter was found in the dark earth
of James Mangan whose Poe-like poetic
provided the proper mold and matrix
to form and shape my verse. His cicatrix-
ladened life appealed to my noetic
needs; his melancholy moods helped to birth
my Manganese. Now, Lex tempers the mode
of my poems. To Lex I am beholden
for how he enables me and for more –
unearthing a plus to my disabled fettle –
himself – he gilds my moods with his rarest mettle.
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Life With A Service Dog
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