What a terribly sad year this is turning out to be and thank you Peter for
taking the trouble to type out this beautifully moving poem which now
acquires an almost unbearable poignancy. On such a lovely late-spring
evening I am sure I'm not alone in reading this and just wanting to lay down
quietly and weep.
G.
-----Original Message-----
From: Pete Smith <[log in to unmask]>
To: [log in to unmask] <[log in to unmask]>
Date: Saturday, April 22, 2000 06:21
Subject: Re: Doug Oliver
>
>Others elsewhere can find solace in the work - the greatest example I know
>of integrity in our times.
>A book fell open at
>
>Well of Sorrows in Purple Tinctures
>...
>Lay my-ah
>burden down, go walking
>go walking on the other side
>of the Grands Boulevards;
>neon silently barks at a pigeon
>sends it up in flurries like a bat;
>let it rest. See my-ah
>dressed in his golf leathers
>father there,
>see my-ah
>dressed in white hair
>mother there,
>see my-ah
>dressed in her Pentecost
>sister there,
>see my-ah
>dressed in stained feathers
>baby son there.
>No side on the other side.
>...
>
>
>Lots more to say but not now,
>Pete.
>
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