The Way

The Way is empty
yet it can never be fully explored.

The Way is Infinite
like the predecessor of the 10,000 things.

The Way
erodes sharp ridges
blows smooth the tangled mane
filters the blazing sun into a soft glow
solidifies with the dust.

The Way is invisible
barely perceptible to most.
Whose child is it?
It was here before its manifestation as God.

From a new media version of 'The Tao Te Ch'ang' devised by Bil and Carole Luther and Jim Fontana.

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Biography

Bil was born on August 4, 1932 in Greeley, Colorado, USA. He was the third generation of his family to be born in Colorado, after his great-grandfather, Samuel, migrated there from Rhode Island. He was a quarter blood Native American - 1/8 Arapahoe and 1/8 Blackfoot - and was a direct descendent of Martin Luther. From 1956 to 1960 he studied at SE U, Washington D.C. gaining a combined BA/MA in Economics. During his lifetime he was a Colorado cowboy, computer software developer, soldier, father and poet. In his final years he lived in Chula Vista, California.

Bil's career in the computer industry spanned 45 years. He was involved in all aspects of software development, including management, consulting and marketing and has 10 US patents to his name.

After retiring, Bil dedicated himself to poetry. Many of his works have been published, including the books "Beaches"(2 Volumes), "Scream!" and "Angel Tears".

He was passionately interested in interactive multimedia and, in partnership with Jim Fontana and Carol Luther, produced a new media version of the Tao Te Ching, interpreted from over a dozen translations of the original words of Lao Tzu.

Bil was one of the founding members of Dome 2. He generously gave his skills, time and resources to build the site and to maintain and develop it as webmaster. He ran courses to pass on his web-development skills, and was mentor to many budding poets. Bil was a man of great integrity and vision. He was a true friend who knew the way.

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Tributes

From Baca County
Barren--Desolate--Sublime
Came to us a Man

Came to us a Man
Poet, Prophet, Soldier, Bard
Writer, teacher, friend

Okieinexile (Dome 2)

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who remembers
a tin man, a thin man
with cake of poetry
with wooden armor
inside, a clock that knows
what time to tick
and not stop at all the signs
which say so
in big bold letters.

tick-tock tick-tock
its weird when someone goes missing
in the mumble mumble noise of interactive
hot iron machine,
where to bud up
and shed tears when only ink is possible,
its starting to become a number

one was a distant grandmother
mother she wanted me to come and
be her poolboy
she was sun, i was moon
sometimes moon covers sun
then, just, heart stops
leaving little boys and girls and
boyfriends behind.
and questions
that you don't know who to ask.

one was a mentor
said
english haiku is crap, with the syllable count
you know. don't ever
ever reply to peoples replies of your work.
don't explain it. then
sudden
sleep. didn't even know
his real name
until afterwards.

i just dip pencil in keyboard
and carry on. words, heavier for every year.
soon i reckon waking up trying to
pick one up, and it'll be glued to the floorboard.
its not very easy
but someone gots to do it.

peace

wrongsideoftheroad (MSN Poets' Place)

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written in indelible wind

the best friend who i never met
was a trillion faceted emerald of
a man,

who let me know him
who let others know him
by degrees-

through vibrant
sparks of poetry
and multi-layered art

without looking
i can return
to the landscapes
that he drew upon
the fences he mended
the faces he studied

with a wise all seeing heart

he taught me
how to walkabout
how to see with walkabout
eyes

and yesterday
on my own walkabout
on tampa's bayshore drive

i felt bil there
with me
felt him there in the breeze

& i thought
with gratitude
of my own place now
in the scheme
in the scheme
of things, and i warmly recalled

how
bil nudged me once
out of a dark space
saying simply this:

look around
as you walk about
let your heart remember
every detail of all that you
have been given to see

and write it down
and write it down
remember to write it down
my friend.

-karasukokoro (MSN Poets' Place)
5/14/06

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a year without brule billy
for me
is not much unlike
a year with
bil luther

though only friends
for the last few years
its like any true friend
years and years can pass
& you just pick up where you left off

all i have to do
is read his emails
his 'rap' talk....hahahaha!
at first i thot he was a 30 year old!!!
hey, whussup witcha?
don be worrin' bout dis & dat
i told steve, my husband,
when we go to so-cal
i want to meet brule billy
steve was jealous
of our correspondence
until
he realized we were checking bill out
from the veteran's convalescent center
him dragging his oxygen tank with him

a couple martinis, shrimp, and conversation later
b b hailed a cab and left us at his favorite bar
overlooking boats hitched to docks
in our camper in the parking lot
i said i'd come back and take him
to the etty art museum
i neve did
& might have
but he died before i had that chance

he had mentioned a viking funeral
and crow & me as skipper's mates
heading toward exotic isles
where he apparently dies in route
& i guess crow & i must jump into a dinghy
& set billy and his boat on fire

that was his dream

keep dreaming billy

gawd, for an old fart
he hung in there
inspired
helped
supported
& encouraged us
he still does

see you in our dreams
love, snake (MSN Poet's Place)

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For Bil, who knew the way.

I met you on the Pleasure Dome
the name chimed true that day,
I sent you some autumn leaves,
and you gave me a name - Huntress,
how special it is to be given a name,
even if all I did was help you find a glitchy font

you were my mentor -
your expectations were high
but you were generous with your praise
and the knowledge and talents you shared
are my most precious jewels

you were my colleague
and steered many a storm
with a steady hand

you were my friend -
we only spoke across cyber-space
but your emails had a very special place in my day,

Maybe you are are on a walkabouts somewhere -
I hope its not too far from a cool beer
and a seat by the water's edge,
with a notebook to write it all down.

What a poem that would be.

Miss you bil
Peace and love

Phoebe (Dome 2)