Resolved: read more, buy more, write more poetry.
Terrific group of poems about finding love finally in his old age, the beauty of upstate New York, survival in poverty (a poet’s wages), friendship, aches and pains, sleeplessness, surviving the death of one’s daughter, visiting Adrienne Rich in Santa Cruz two years after the 1989 earthquake, discussing poetry (“How can poetry be written by people who want no change?” and “No longer do we need an insane president to end us by pushing a button. People need only go on living as they are, without change, the complacent and hard-eyed everywhere.”)
From Faxes to William, a group of nineteen poems ostensibly faxed to his friend William, who does not have a fax machine.
The fallen hibiscus flower
that was so exotic, intricate, and splendid
lay on the floor, a reddish
pulpy mess. I took it
to the container of unpleasantness
for the compost heap. Inevitably,
William, I thought of
all the poems I’ve written