Thursday, November 22, 2012


    for HHH

    Some days before he died, my ancient friend
    Apparently was musing on his end:
    “What bothers me,” he said, “is I don’t know
    My destiny.”  “You mean, how long you’ll live?”
    He did not say, so I’m not positive.
    At any rate, the question now is moot:
    He’s gone and I’ve no notion on what route
    His wafting ashes fly.  If he survives
    This world, and somewhere else his spirit thrives,
    He’s given me no sign I’ve recognized—
    Unless this verse’s course is supervised
    And prompted by his presence in my mind,
    A ghost with which I’m mystically aligned.