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