I wish henry didnt do the thoughts that he thought Was his suicide. I wish henry could talk. The point being henry is gone. Feels like the empty pit of an ocean poem. The empty walrus has a beard In it grows the bankers heart And the crooks on wall street. My father wasnt what destroyed The crazy heart of a thurough poet. Im to normal to feel the big haul Of the god of henry. But never the stinking less. The god that kills poets. The god who always comes back for more. If the posh bar in new york closed Henry would of went next door. Henry would of been around A little more to know where he sits In the book store. The ****** way to be perfect Was the nastiest game in Snowy Michigan. There ought to be fences on that bridge. But he would of just climbed over. Mr. Bones what made henry do it. Mr. Bones what made henry Killed henry like the banker And the revolver from Oaklahoma. Empty is every ship returning home. Henry isnt on the list of survivors stranded In the aftermath. Captain henry stayed on board.