For Tony Wilson
Tony was the real deal.
You could hear
the joy
in his playing
and the pain,
A Day’s Life
not in vain.
His music
took you
on a ride
(never for a ride).
Destination unknown
yet somehow familiar.
From the jagged peaks
of improvisation
to the warm valleys
of ballad creation,
introspective
one moment,
bursting into glorious overdrive
the next,
searching,
wandering,
flying high
yet down to earth,
like a stoned conversation
in the gazebo
in between sets.
Free/composed
hypnotic or funky
outside/inside
all musical binaries
set aside.
Sounds
set afloat
like dream songs
riding the currents
of the Salish Sea,
bubbling up
at the tips
of his longhand fingers.
A tip of the hat
and farewell second line
to send off Tony
and his butterfly guitar.
Gone where the people
look like flowers
at last.
Ron Sakolsky
