Gary Snyder
Lew Welch just turned up one day, Live as you and me. “Damn, Lew” I said, “you didn’t shoot yourself after all.” “Yes I did” he said, And even then I felt the tingling
Snowfall in March: I sit in the white glow reading a thesis About you. Your poems, your life. The author’s my student, He even quotes me. Forty years since we joked in a kitchen
One afternoon the last week in April Showing Kai how to throw a hatchet One-half turn and it sticks in a stump. He recalls the hatchet-head Without a handle, in the shop And go
You said, that October, In the tall dry grass by the orchard When you chose to be free, “Again someday, maybe ten years.” After college I saw you One time. You were strange, And
Lay down these words Before your mind like rocks. placed solid, by hands In coice of place, set Before the body of the mind in space and time: Solidity of bark, leaf, or wall
There are those who love to get dirty and fix things. They drink coffee at dawn, beer after work, And those who stay clean, just appreciate things, At breakfast they have milk and juice