I Did Not Know Him, I Knew

I'm Probably So Out Of It At My Age That I Don't Know What People Think.

I Was A Late Bloomer. But Anyone Who Blooms At All, Ever, Is Very Lucky.

I'm Not Asking A Poem To Carry A Lot Of Rocks In Its Pockets. Just Being An Ordinary Observer And Liver And Feeler And Letting The Experience Get Through You Onto The Notebook With The Pen, Through The Arm, Out Of The Body, Onto The Page, Without Distortion.

There Is Something In Me Maybe Someday To Be Written; Now It Is Folded, And Folded, And Folded, Like A Note In School.

I Wish I Wrote More About The World At More Distance From Myself.