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| Geraldine Chaplin by Harold Chapman |
I open the door once more, to put words out like a bowl of milk for sweet night kittens.
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| 1953 Ace Books, artist unknown |
had eyes intense and sad
before he died.
Poets eyes
but stark as new planets.
Don't ever become
so unkown
(after long periods of unknowableness)
that your eyes can't be visited.
Keep the last of the jazz
blue note beads
around your neck
Your songs'll maybe better
than rain, stars & laughter
& prose manuscripts
'graved on killed cold stone.
Be intense as air
Be sad as a backyard scuffle
But eat cake and listen to someone
sometime a friend.
I'm telling you WSB killed his eyes.
Don't kill yours
even though you're a poet sure.
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