"As the publisher of Eve The Broken Letters Of The Heart Spell Earth...I recall working with Daniel Thompson on that book/CD. As anyone knows, you don't edit Daniel, you work with him...and we produced a book we both felt good about. One thing about Daniel is that he made sure everyone involved got paid (in cash, copies, and praise)--musicians, recording technicians, photographers. And he saw to it that he was paid last. He was a generous man and joins the likes of d.a.levy, Kenneth Patchen, Hart Crane, Langston Hughes, James Wright as among the great Ohio poets. I learned a great deal from just knowing him. We are donating all sales from that book/CD to the Homeless Grapevine and NE Ohio Coalition for the Homeless." from Larry Smith of Bottom Dog Press Lsmithdog@aol.com

Seven Dollars

Daniel, where are you?
Can I put the seven dollars I still owe you for the book of poems in the mail?
I meant to do it last week.
Sorry.
I really let you down.
You’ll get it by Thursday.
Are you OK for food?
Do you have a pad?
I hope to hell you didn’t need the money right away!
Oh Daniel, I hope I didn’t make you lose faith in humanity,
Lose faith in me,
Because I forgot to pay you for your lovely book of poems which have made me happy.
The little book you gave me at the end of the meeting to protect the rights of Muslims,
Because I said I didn’t have any money.
Or was it the meeting to support the rights of the homeless,
Or was it the one where the speaker said, “Blessed are the poor”.
It wasn’t that long ago, but I still can’t remember where.
For Chrissake! You didn’t have to die, not for me!
No, Daniel. This will be better!
I’ll put the seven dollars in some place where no one but you
- or a homeless person –
would ever find it.
And I will come to the secret place from time to time
And check to see if you’ve picked it up.
When it’s gone,
I’ll know you have forgiven me.
from Peter Dillard peterdil@ameritech.net

"He WAS biblical. He LOOKED biblical. We went back to the 70s at least. My last more than small conversation with Daniel was as I picked him up because he needed a ride to my poetry reading in Shaker Hts. It was HIS idea to come and Barry Zucker called to tell me he needed a ride. I was so very honored. I also wanted to know for myself how he was doing. He was UPBEAT about his new CD, his readings and we talked about memories---the celebration for Hart Crane's birthday in the parking lot around the corner from Euclid Tavern, his readings at McGregor House, his grades in school as a kid. What a treat. Daniel was unique. His readings were magical. His voice was soothing to listen to even when he was reading angry poems. So many years of sustenance for the soul. I remember Daniel at nursing homes, jails, parking lots, the “street”---and, of course, museums, art centers, libraries, parks, bookstores –and churches reading and performing his poetry. Celebrating to the power of poetry—and, spreading his poetic magic. His audiences were everyone, everywhere, anywhere. By sheer coincidence, his CD called DRUMPLAY: Under the Map of the World Where I Sleep arrived at his home on Lincoln Boulevard just as I joined him for the meal I had brought to help him heal. He was ecstatic—I guess the copy I have is the first one he sold. It is by my side and I will treasure that visit along with so much more. I can remember that day and hear Daniel whenever I want.He will be missed by many more than those of us who saw him often. He will be missed by all of those people he worked with, fought for, and helped in places we cannot even imagine. He reached their souls and gave them hope.To Daniel: Visitor of souls. You created paths for peace." from Nina Gibans

ninagibans@sbcglobal.net

empty blanket

when the hawk ice wind
come a walkin' past rattled
glass door behind the grates
shall a hand write down prospect,
and then good water through this traffic,
shall a voice speak fire and hearth
in the rain-cold, rise up
crackle and light-tongued

burn my poetry and gestures for warmth
if you cold
and borrow my empty blanket
from Christopher Reynolds Spiriman@aol.com

"Daniel would enjoy the fact that he died on Freud's birthday, and also on Thoreau's death day. Though closer to Thoreau in spirit, he could get Freudian! I think he held on a few more hours just to make it on a momentous day, May 6." from Bill Kennedy wkennedy@clevelandart.org

In the City of the Ragman for Daniel on his 69th birthday (4/21/04)

In the city of the Ragman’s heart
it is night
The streets are slick with rain
and puddles of blue movie light
Ragman is your partner in crime,
your darling, your sweet
But the gearbox in the getaway car is broken
and the engine won’t start
So you stand on the corner
and you warm your hands
and you tap your shoes
and you cock your ears
to the sweet oooooo of Ragman doo wop
rising like yeast through the gutters
Ragman stole all the manhole covers
and sold them for songs
He’s down there breaking bread
with the bluesmen
the jailbirds and fallen angels
the mermaids with tail lights for eyes
When Ragman makes you laugh
you can see the lilies of your own breath
bloom from your mouth
like steam from the grates at your feet
If you lie down there now
Ragman’ll pass you a blanket
and coax a pack of wild dogs
to track their footprints across your chest
while you sleep
While you sleep
the fog horn wails
the sidewalk cracks
The hours are wee now
they’ve always been wee
The pot-bellied moon still waiting
It’s always been waiting
Here in the city of the Ragman’s heart
from Katie Daley katie66@earthlink.net

"I knew Daniel for about two years from my work in the anti-war movement. He was gracious and always lent a hand no ,matter how his health affected him, to support our cause. He touched my heart and I feel that we have all lost a part of our souls with his passing. I remember when he promised to do a poetry reading at an event I helped organize to show solidarity with our Muslim-S. Asian immigrant community.He had also promised to do another reading in honor of a long time activst ,Ione Biggs across town at the same day ,same time.Daniel showed up at our event even though this was a hardship for him and he didn\'t even have any gas money.His generosity of time and devotion to the common people will sorely be missed.We all must learn how one person\'s lfe can truly make a difference in this society that puts people\'s needs to often in the backgound for the pursuit of greed.Daniel\'s life is an inspiration to me to keep fighting for social justice till the bitter end.Even in death he lives on in all of the activist communities hearts." from Maryjo Muser

requiem for daniel thompson

you, white bearded saint of
the sad cleveland streets,
with yr twinkling eye
& fireworks of the mind,
chanting yr heavy words
over the beast of the city,
o prophet of many hats, the
music of yr soul like a fine
mercury swirl, awash upon
lost neighborhoods, a beacon
of hope in a twist of whispers,
down where the cuyahoga flows
gentle giant of junkyard poems,
in a pearl road salvage joint
where the word resurrected
the rust of axles, silent engines
motoring our forgotten names,
w/a top hat standing on a flatbed,
legendary ghost of the west side
market, weaving in and out of
vegetable stands, sausages
hanging like uncooked poems
from the rafters, all yr clean
fresh bread of the moment,
king of the coventry hours,
telling tales at a table at
tommy’s, rattling the bones
of the ages, the civil rights
wars of the 1960s, you the
mask of hughes, crane, levy,
with yr diamond sharp scythe
of images, poems that erase
every ancient moment, suspended
in time like a golden elixir,
dueling with drumplay, how
you would laugh at my words,
on a sunny cleveland afternoon
where the birds speak of spring,
the dogs sing symphonies, today
is a holy day, a timeless may 6th,
(can’t believe yr gone) I offer this
requiem for you, daniel thompson
from Markk Kuhar of deepcleveland.com markk@deepcleveland.com

"I moved to Cleveland in 1976 and Daniel has always been part of the cultural political landscape. I last saw him at the Cleveland Heights Main Library a few weeks ago and I thought he seemed pretty good. He was poet activist par excellence, always addressing the obscenities, acting with the courage of his convictions--spending time in the workhouse for jaywalking on Coventry and requesting herbal tea while there; dying in on Public Square against nuclear war on No Business As Usual Day, 4/30/85, etc. He always had a twinkle in his eye, prompting anticipation and then delivering a wry comment or meaningful and entertaining poetry. A truly unique human force is gone. He will be missed, but his spirit and his words will live on and continue to lift my spirits, ever famous in my neighborhood." from Carol Steiner csteiner@nacs.net

Daniel is:
Rock 'n reggae
soulful beat
Drumplay tours though Earthfest's heat
Hugs and Art was our Hessler way..
I will hold forever
his knowing way

taught me to read... taught me the phrase,
learned that lives are but a collection of days...
his heart...a guide
creating when closed
Inspired bard
collective integrity rose

CREATE community not war
Art Crimes galore
Go on live breathless ... don't wait
AS...Not knowing there's more!

CPT, SLAMS!
No violence or hate
eradicate junk at beauties gate

ONE! Weekend for Peace,
Macs backs & the EUC

Lil Albert...DJK
least one forget....
Brady's cafe

God....why did you take our angel....
Far too soon away??
With all the turmoil
planets tribes...
You must have needed...
a soulful scribe

Forever indebted to...Daniel
In loving Memory
Hessler will be dedicated to you!
Leatrice Tolls,
aka "The Bead Girl: per Daniel circa 1987.. Now Lady .. yeah right, LOL, Earthmom, artist, activist, bardic dreamer!''' from Leatrice Tolls leatrice.tolls@kucinich.us

"I have known Daniel since I was 25 years old. I am now 55. Daniel always included me in his radical presentations, was always aiming for inclusiveness and a broad array of expression. He took me to perform at the women\'s pre-release center where I sang my \"lesbian\" orientation songs and was never asked back although the women really loved my performance. We performed at the coffee house events at St. Patricks for years. He made me cry often with his touching, angering, loving, on-target writings. Daniel gave of his time and remained committed to his beliefs and to being a voice for the homeless, the racially disinfranchised and anyone who lived under the sword of injustice. I will always love him." from Peggi Cella, Songwriter and Musician

Gold Ring
for Daniel Thompson, friend and colleague

1

In the year my father died
I go with my son to hear music
he has not heard before.
The musicians are characters
with bad hair and unguarded eyes.
They move their bows through Beethoven
the ineffable thanksgiving of a “grand mogul”
who guessed he was to be on the short list for death,
-- but not quite yet, of course.

2

In the year my father died
a brown woman walks along a brown river,
a walk a generation of generations old.
She regards the mortar dust kicked up
in the air above Fallujah.
On my mantel a gold ring my father received
in a small town in southern Luzon,
as nuns came to his tent in thanksgiving
for the c-rations he had released to their flock.

3

The young plants I see suckling in the spring earth
have broken free into a leftover world of light.
Maybe there’s music here for me,
ineffable or otherwise,
along this fecund Cleveland sidewalk,
but I can’t quite take it in just yet,
in this year my father died.

20 April 2004; revised 1 May 2004
from Jim Miller jkmiller@igc.org

"The Committee of 500 Years of Dignity and Resistance will miss Daniel greatly. Since the beginning of the Committee's existance in 1991, Daniel was always there to support us. His poetry readings at our demonstrations. The poem, Tell Chief Wahoo that had been printed on a t-shirt has been worn by folks from around the country. At our pot lucks and gatherings Daniel would always arrive with bread, lots of bread. We could always count on Daniel. Daniel has been such a huge part of the real life in Cleveland, his passion to fight injustice and his love for the people and this city will never be forgotten. Daniel will live on in the history of Cleveland and in all the hearts he has touched. We will miss Daniel in the days to come, but Daniel will always be with us in his poetry. One who has heard Daniel read his poetry will always have his words in their hearts. His voice echos throughout this city each and every day." from Ferne Clements, Committee of 500 Years of Dignity and Resistance

In Memory of Daniel
The rain poured down when Daniel died.
Not a dluge from the skies,
But tears of sadness from our eyes.
His poems and his example are effulgent
With beauty and bright light.
His spirit will inspire us s we organize to fight
To bring to birth a new world from the ashes of the old.
We\'ll create a world of justice, of sharing and of love,
And Dan will be there smiling from Heaven up above.
from Stewart Robinson 5/7/04 stewartrobinson@sbcglobal.net

To Daniel T.
Energy, out to fingertips!
Reminding us, reminding us
Not like a mother
But the persons voice
You have always been venerable
You should get old
Soul of the community
We need you with us, your
Raging reminders
To save our humanity, and wrap it around us
Without it
There is no breath
We celebrate your voice
D.T.
We
Thank
You

from anonymous (:divend:)