I keep his letters close, rereading
so not to forget
reading and rereading
his poems
lamplight dimmed
justice is a concept
for philosophers
our human heroes
die prematurely
slowly
but always die
alive and breathing in their works
a return to emptiness
staggering vitality
it’s the writing life he
wants for me
it’s what I want for myself
also for him to live
in books and human tissue
in garden-side conversations
yielding bounties:
encouragement
humor
inspiration
words often evade the novelist
this does not excuse him
from honing the craft –
language for the living
and the dead
he must remain open
receptive to the world
imagination engaged
use your gift, he said
listen to life’s
lost songs and last chances
cherish everything
live the writing life