Fantasy Poetic Verses

would that I could pick up reception of celestial transmissions with a couple'a old soup can phones and country miles of string (would they have harp string ring tones?) and ask the old man about days long ago interrupting his labors tilling god's fecund green fields (most likely the back forty) a bit east of old eden, I'm sure to hear that tinny voice growling while smelling good earth and honest sweat far, so far, distant he'd first grumble and low mumble about nonsensical questions but always comically failing to hide the smile in his voice and flattered affection "...of beatniks, of Elvis of old rumbleseats yeah, I remember those days strange fellows, those beats" "It's hard to rekalect, (being a swab in the Navy) all those strange doings onshore it seemed authority was tested conformity seen as a chore" "so I guess that's your answer, son, I didn't truck with them much those bohemian fellows seemed to me a bit touched" it was good to hear it his old usual ways a bit bluff, more bluster signing off from our strange freq (with as much love as he could muster) I smiled after he faded and wished quietly in my room he could read just a few of my thin veiled kharmic sad curses about loving a father (gone, yet still set in his ways) in my amateurish attempts at fantasy poetic verses...