DéJA VU

A clean reflection

sitting in a field,

red poppies at the foot of Mont Serrat,

my mother

among the poppies,

And there I am again,

at two,

squinting into the sun,

someone points a camera,

something that’s me


* * *

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Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Remembering Elizabeth Murray

I learned yesterday that Bob Holman's beloved wife, the painter Elizabeth Murray, has left this world.When such a joyful being dies at the pinnacle of her creative powers it leaves a space in all our lives. But the greatest loss is to those closest to her--Bob, their two daughters, her son, and the rest of her extensive family.
I'll miss seeing her occasional visits to the Bowery Poetry Club, lighting up the dark corner at the end of the bar. She emanated a unique glow from her blue eyes, cloud of white hair, and neon smile. I think the last time I saw her there, a couple of years ago, she and Bob were making out like a couple of teenagers. It was an image of love that lasts, and that's the way I'll always think of her.

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