Touched by blue
Drunk with poetry
my dreadfully crapulous hair hugging me from behind
Feet bare on a sheet of snow
I call to prayer for my masters
Murmurs in my ears, I lift my eyes and see the
Great Writers whose ink is thicker than blood
ghastly standing on their graves

Rilke proclaimed on his deathbed:
"Vergessen Sie nie, das Leben ist eine Herrlichkeit!" ("Never forget, life is a glory!")
Jiménez, Twain, Gary, Neruda, Yun ****-ju, Fitzgerald... all
look at me with compassionate gazes. And Braley grabs my face and yells,
"The greatest verse hasn't been written yet!"
Nazim Hikmet nodded
I hear a fading echo like receding waves,

Why be good?
It's probably all about
clothing our naked souls with
a dress of innocence.