I kind of deal with terror and fear and isolation and abandonment — David Bowie

In the apple market
your South London twang
accompanies the many undulations
of time.

Your wild androgyny
mirrors the mirror
of yourself.
You help me 
skim off the water
of childhood,
like a shaking dog.

You lit up, spot-lighted,
an iridescence of sound
Ziggy!
Your songs were the water
I needed.

Terse verse
spreading underground
watering imaginations
breeding rainbows
over Baker Street, the Regent’s park
during the long hot summer of 1976.

We thought it would never end
but you knew better
ashes to ashes
dust to dust
before the silver cord was broken
before the golden bowl was crushed.

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