Many of us discovered how woven into our past was the music, the wide-ranging influence of David Bowie. How bereft we felt and shocked even upon hearing of his death on Jan. 10. I was not the kind of fan growing up who bought his records or attended his concerts, but the songs were such an integral part of me, I recognized more than I was aware I knew. Of course, there are also all those artists he influenced or encouraged. By nature he expanded boundaries. He was just 5 years older than I am, so there is that, a look at shared mortality.

After the news went out, as did many others, I went to the internet and listened to songs, watched videos and interviews, and began to read. The more I learned, the more I felt I had lost, but also the more I appreciated being able to “know” such a charismatic, gracious artist. And as usual, the poems started coming to me, each day writing prompted by what I had just learned or heard. And yes, the dream poem is a true story.

So here is the beginning of my tribute: To someone who somehow, by being himself, snuck into the fabric of my life and so many others. Let me know if perhaps these poems with speak for you or to you.

1/12/16

Early Tribute and Promise
David Bowie

Some ideas are only
accessible in the dark void.
They slink, they slide
they slither in
around the admonition
despite the admiration
to become again…pure
imagination.
And the part of us
that has always been
David Bowie welcomes them
into expression
however flawed or flamboyant
in their perfection
unique in all creation.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016

 

1/12/16

David Jones
nee Bowie

Now you look
and Death seems obvious
in that iconic face
and the last words he wrote
at first glance
inexplicable, now explained.
To leave life privately
restore the loss of privacy.
To make what could be
of this final transformation
this inevitable reinvention
whatever he believed
about reincarnation.
To have inspired and influenced
and championed
those in need of a hand up.
That smile, those cheekbones
that versatility of hair and makeup
the otherworldly uniqueness of eyes
not losing track
of the overall arc
the forward momentum
until the very end
the last breath
the amazing grace.
He knew and made the most of it
what else is there
of earth and heaven?
To be who he was
after giving the last gifts.
To look back and see what you left
to stay and go ahead
a spirit released from
all constrictions, all small boxes,
all constraint, all confines.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016

 

1/13/16

D. B.

To live and to leave
as desired by heart’s longing
the door opening
on the way through
spilling creative juice
back and onto.
And those behind
for a brief time
awakened and aware
some purpose clear
the urge to accomplish
something…good.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016

 

1/13/16

Stardust

To be born innocent
knowing nothing in that moment
containing everything from before
stardust coalesced into firmament shaped
into specific form by an unknowable hand
and shaped by choices again and
what seems like chance from this
sliver-skewed perspective.
In fact the universe playing out
and I being here, playing the hand I am dealt.
Potential shifting into real.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016

1/14/16

David Bowie Comes in a Dream
After a “video” of his final poetry reading

I am not the only one I’m certain
who received a dream-visitation
talking of things that matter
life and death and in between
just as it might have been
and most gracious and welcoming.

There are advantages in spirit form
like teleportation and omnipresence
that are harder to pull off as human.
He heard us talking after and walked over
smiling as he was and thoughtful
bent toward and leaned in to the conversation
ever the interested generous gentleman
showing how it’s done:
this end of lifetime celebration
and relevant immortality.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016

 

1/14/16

More and No More

There will be no more sightings
of him holding hands with Iman
on the streets of New York
London, Berlin, or Hoboken
David Bowie has flown

But the ripples have not stilled
that were set in motion
Even now
momentum builds with more listening
new waves overreaching someone

stimulating discussion
reflection
reinvention
reanimation
re-creation
In a context inevitably altered
he was a willing conduit

We received what became
a foundation, a template
expanding what could be healed
expanding what was possible
and expanding still

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016

 

1/15/16

What I see Now, From this Distance
David Bowie, still Jones

Truly he was not one
born of immaculate conception
but a man born of a woman
in a particular house in Brixton, London
after the war was won
in the midst of that devastation.

And what happened then to shape and form
the one he would become
driven to create and perform
what turned into what it was:
re-shaping the world around him.
What was inside coming to fruition

what had to be tamed or all was lost
what allowed or pushed him to pursue
what kept him who he was
and led to finding happiness and solace?
How was or wasn’t he his mother’s son
generous and kind to everyone.

Of course in those days he was very young
And the context, the times he lived in
the cultural milieu, the shifting sands
what he rejected, what he embraced
for connection and separation

to not be swept away as others had
by contempt or adulation.
To see the path or if not a path
a next step and take it:
what if I mix these things that do not
seem to go together

sprinkle with stardust and stubborn sweat
and voila! A charismatic life well-spent.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016

 

1/15/16

Bowie

Now the stories are told
no one to correct faulty recollection
the rosy ones first to emerge
then later the thorns?

But now the adulation
sweeping the lands
of those who were inspired then
to be more than seemed possible for them.

Worlds expanded, minds blown
by this father’s boy, this mother’s son
who was real underneath all the glam
who searched and found

and became again
the next reinvention.
Charisma they say, and talent
timing, risk-taking, intelligence and

eventually
the courage to be seen…
the true gift given.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016

 

1/16/16

Still Bowie

He had a gift
and he gave it
he was almost lost
and somehow saved
the mistakes he made
the chances and choices
creating, re-creating
weaving threads
that didn’t belong together
until they did
and on to the next thing
always the next
Do you think this
is any different?

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016