LESTER AFFLICK 10/1/00
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huddling
poets inside dark perfect sunday fall warm day outside beauty we gather inside lester late the late lester in the middle a poem that doesn’t quite start is scratched out xxxs doesn’t quite end what you thought what you taught what you suspired stood for your ground some soaring rarely -- cynic died of poverty died of overdose of love died of loneliness camaraderie red wine too too much poetry not enough vegetables always thought lester one of the smartest guys I know always loved between him and ferris cannon the crew something about us snapped into place into focus even soaring today he’d be here wouldn’t be anywhere else cept dying young afflick a fleck ash afflicted with life in the middle xxxxs to get it write it keeps it going for you lester for all of us here huddling poets inside dark perfect |