With his familiar beefy, Irish-red face and poetic rantings that harked back to when language was lyrical, Tim Calhoun haunted Coventry Road, the Barking Spider, and open mike poetry nights all over Cleveland. Thirty eight years old and father of two, Calhoun was a poet, unaffected by trends. His poems were lush, vibrant, Yeatsian calls for spiritual transformation and redemption. Calhoun died in University Hospitals on Valentines Day.

One hopes that he found what he was looking for.