My boy's pop
He just died today. I didn't know about it. I was focused on Terry Schiavo and others not as close to me.But my man's pop died today. We were hanging out in front of this club last week and he turned to me and said "And I just found out TODAY that my pops has lung cancer" and we continued to puff on our cigarettes in the not so cold Brooklyn night. I wondered where my man was tonight and it wasn't until his partner came through that I was told. I feel like a heel for being so disconnected, for not being right there at the very moment that I can be of help to a friend. I've changed my avatar in honor of my friend's father, and it will remain for the next week. Also, he was a pretty well known writer, so here is a poem of his.GoodbyeRobert CreeleyNow I recognize it was always me like a camera set to expose itself to a picture or a pipe through which the water might run or a chicken dead for dinner or a plan inside the head of a dead man. Nothing so wrong when one considered how it all began. It was Zukofsky's "Born very young into a world already very old..." The century was well along when I came in and now that it's ending, I realize it won't be long. But couldn't it all have been a little nicer, as my mother'd say. Did it have to kill everything in sight, did right always have to be so wrong? I know this body is impatient. I know I constitute only a meager voice and mind. Yet I loved, I love. I want no sentimentality. I want no more than homeHe passed away at sunrise in Texas today, as his family surrounded him singing "Here Comes The Sun."