Poet Carolyn Gregory wrote a poem in memory of the late founder of Stone Soup Poets, Jack Powers.

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The Poet and Priest

Tall and magisterial,

he might have been a priest

in wine-colored robes

if he had not been a poet

gathering his flock

of runaways and renegades.

Even when hungover,

he always let them speak

in a rhythm of nouveau Beat

or confession,

everyone equal in the light

shining on formica and graffiti

In a church full of cigarettes

and broken green bottles,

fish net stockings and smeared green poems,

he was the mentor of one hundred,

some faltering, some musical,

their heads full of Jimi Hendrix and poppies
In smelly bars,

the interludes warmed Monday night

with congas and punkers,

cowboys and the merely drunk,

checking out the girls —

Straight up, no chaser

When I stumbled into a smoky café

dodging screeching trains on Boylston

near the Combat Zone

of burned out hookers and shady deals,

Taller than God,

he handed me a mike

and shushed the room

and I shared my poems of lost lovers

and autumn leaves,

the applause came like ancient horses

gathering speed we are riding still.

– Carolyn Gregory

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