words impressed themselves upon me and still

do.

in mid-life he became and remained a complete

recluse.

he spoke to no one and was seen by very few.

his work and his life appeared to be as one.

it was not until after his death that I read his

Collected Letters and these

pandered to university powers and publishing

forces.

there was letter after letter of

beckoning and

posturing, of

obeisance and

compromise.

he hardly seemed the same man.

maybe he wasn’t, I thought, maybe somebody else wrote those

letters for him

and then

they were published.

in reality, though, I knew that he had written

them.

how soon our idols fall

until

there are none

left.

ah

it will never end, there will be no

help, no mercy, no living thing,

it will all go on, uselessly, through

fabrication and old habits, it

will continue, a headless body

of life, walking old walks, doing

old tricks, dreaming old dreams,

it will be as alone as a mountain,

and despite billions of beings

there will not be one real being, there

will be everlasting waste and only

the animals will be real, they will have

the pureness of eye and the grace,

they will be the last, the simple,

pure, the ember, what it meant

truly, the wolf will have the heart

and the panther the lungs and

the eagle, the eyes, and the last

war will be one man sitting in a

chair, laughing at it

all.

room 106

came to town in the middle of the night

found a motel room

lit a cigarette

and looked at the black and white

tv,

a couple in the next room

arguing,

they sound drunk,

Southern,

I turn the tv off,

look through the blinds,

my car is still there,

I take my shoes and clothes off,

too tired to shower,

I manage to brush my teeth,

come back,

switch out the lights,

stretch out in the bed in the

dark,

I can hear them still

arguing,

it isn’t a very interesting

argument,

I’m tired,

want to sleep

and soon they stop arguing

and I listen to the traffic

going by

but I can’t sleep,

somehow I think of myself as

a dead man

on that bed,

I’m dead, the maid will

find me when she comes

to change the sheets and

towels.

upon seeing me

she will make a small

frightened sound,

close the door

and run off

somewhere.

that scene seems appealing

to me,

quite,

I yawn, stretch, turn on my

right side,

see the red

NO VACANCY sign through

the blinds

and just like that I

am

asleep.

in other words

the Egyptians loved the cat

were often entombed with it

instead of with the women

and never with the dog

but now

here

good people with

good eyes

are very few

yet fine cats

with great style

lounge about

in the alleys of

the universe.

about

our argument tonight

whatever it was

about