traces of artistry gone poof!

---

you need this

Bloom of English humanity dies at 89

---

Harold was haunted by “genius.”

The image comes from the NYTimes obituary.

The haunting is ultimately ironic.

extraterrestrial reply

---

Yes, Elizabeth, I'm glad too [that “…{I’m} writing and reading things that matter”].

Send me your poem from your upcoming collection of poetry that most importantly expresses your sense of why you're doing poetry. 

Also, what, at heart, is poetry's calling, to you?

Thanks,

gary

---

deleted from draft email to her:

“Why do you do poetry?” would surely be a high schooler's question. Yet, it’s also a question implicitly addressed by anyone who cares for our humanity. 

genealogy of “a creative life”

---

The emergence of “a creative life” may be interesting, but likely only in light of the set of pages. If you enjoy that, this posting might matter. This is intended for reading afterward.

still the poetry

---

It’s eerie: a long memorial appreciation
of you is uploaded, complete
with a selection of your poems,
the day you die, as if they were ready
and waiting for the immanence which escaped
them each morning you awoke again.
“Still here. Another day.” Or not.

signing

---

Let her be love as a letter: free awing.