The poet was nationally recognized for a lifetime's worth of writings.
made me a Jew all over again.
Your poetry, I used to read poetry,
has words for evil, but what can it do
except name it, then name it again?
Eye sockets, you remembered them most.
Eyes that shall never open with wonder again.
I actually thought those words
but knew what a punk thought it was.
Et in Arcadio ego, kiddo, right?
I despaired of us, killers yawning
at their tasks, grooving evenings
to Schubert or Mozart. And there I was,
the helpless healer, a big joke, belief
bled from my heart. Now look at me,
banal drama queen, the dying darling,
sick at heart, heartsick, heartsore. So what?
I’m nobody’s fool, or God’s fool maybe.
Those summery girls, the bunk-racks,
all those damned bones and so-called showers…
I shipped home. My bride was waiting
Letters to the Editor