He wants to die like a true poet,a defiant guerrilla, ravingly sane,an unsubdued artist with his boots on,metaphoric…
Cambodia 1972 — for Paul Brandt
“We men are wretched things.”
In the fall the war was always there,but we did not go to it anymore. EH
I bludgeoned my brainswith a book, forgettingto remember the wordsof wisdom that once tookMy breath away.
Cops, Robbers
Brexit, Exit
A Zen Drill Sergeantonce told me,
(screamed inmy face)
You always got to havea fall back position, boy.