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I write this with tears in my eyes. Candice's cousin has just emailed me to let me know that Candice died suddenly this week. I don't know the circumstances. Who can forget the verve she brought to her _Snaps_ on PoetryEtc? A wonderful person and writer. I append one of her many magnificent poems. Randolph *The Moon Sees the One* /I see the Moon// /And the Moon sees me/ /And the Moon sees the one/ /I long to see// (children's song) /You'll find your ignorance is blissful// /Every goddamn time// (Tom Waits,"Heart Attack & Vine") the moon sees to night at the end of its rope, beached to blot by remote the one way back a baker's blank so white, so late as the face on magritte's mother undercover still a looker (me with my aptitude for pathos- of-distance learning): listen, duckling, it goes for the throat thrush or strep, whistle-stopped as the little red train makes tracks, makes history of us putting a saint in it and pulling away, while overhead the night gowns for cover (her face) all wet but none the wiser than what is /is/ left of memory: your darrow songs, my debs rebellion for in your father's house of cheats are too many dimensions---and the moon looks on, indifferent to its own mystery, to the children gazing back from an orphan age already history