Wednesday, December 12, 2012


Very slowly, through the orchard.

He wrote something terrific (page
2,400) to the memory of a suicide
oddly enough.  About monsters.  So
effective!  And in the end close their

eyes a final time close our eyes.  At
least I think it was him (vibrating thru
the hum of two trains grooving beside
each other in the mid-afternoon).  West

Texas sunlight through a bit of a haze.
And who can blame him now?  Perhaps
in the future the reference will be worth-
less.  The music of this jazz (the elders of

Amtrak arranged neatly in the dining car;
we’re not allowed to rise and go our own
ways until we’ve passed a test recollecting
each and every warning sign) originates

from New Orleans and from Abilene and
Saint Louis and South Bend with the
grandkids swingdancing in San Francisco....