I have to write tonight because to not do so would mean that someone would not understand... or too many. I have spent the night inthe middle of a 3 mile walk in which the certaintude of things became apparent.
Did you know that I love Frank O'Hara's " The Day Lady Died." Some fools apparently thing it is about a dog.
I can tell you that no dog can sing like that. I mean, there is dog who can even sing like that, at least I hope. I can hear her call of the strange fruit.
Poetry is like breathing to me now, and finally. If you do not understand that, please get out of my way, Let me breathe. Let me be. Find a way to resuscitate your belief so you can go on fooling the rest of us into loving you for a little longer.
