Poem to Henry Miller
Take a hint. These men are not kidding. In this democracy no one can buy Up the town. Hide your joy, Happy Rock, Like a stash of jewels. No one likes a man who gets drunk on water.
Hag-bound even then, you gobbled up my unlived life without words. I fed you the best parts of me. “Wrong!” cried my friends, bound to succeed. In this late wisdom it is your eyes I respect, and a mouth which taught me a fear of curves. Regretfully, no one has been as right as you. Who ate whom? I gorged on sorrow, grew round and wise, holding back, while you became an early wife, boxed up, and perhaps dumb. Twice the age of that fine frenzy I think of you still stinking with life. This is simple. Your eyes burning on stairways. I ask for nothing less.