here I am
in the ground
my mouth
open
and

as the poems go into the thousands
realize that you’ve created very
little.
it comes down to the rain, the sun
the traffic, the nights and the da

the best often die by their own ha
just to get away,
and those left behind
can never quite understand
why anybody

I still get letters in the mail, m
men in tiny rooms with factory job
living with whores or no woman at
booze and madness.
Most of their letters are on lined

self-congratulatory nonsense as th
famous gather to applaud their see
greatness
you
wonder where

August 12, 1986
Hello John:
Thanks for the good letter. I don
You know my old saying, “Slavery
And what hurts is the steadily dim

we are always asked
to understand the other person’s
viewpoint
no matter how
out—dated

good weather
is like
good women—
it doesn’t always happen
and when it does

the history of melancholia
includes all of us.
me, I writhe in dirty sheets
while staring at blue walls
and nothing.

if you’re going to try, go all the
way.
otherwise, don’t even start.
if you’re going to try, go all the
way.