way down here in the Nag,
horse-trading with angels,
sealing the deal with a laugh
like a tommy gun,
one part adenoids,
three parts scorn.
All the people celebrated in these Otwituaries have, in some way or other, had an effect on me, positive or otherwise...
Long live the breathless;
those on bloody streets
or between bedsheets,
their smiles saying no,
nothing matters,
yet acting like every last
little thing matters.
When they say
you sing too loud,
dance too fast,
show too much,
throw back your head,
sing, dance,
make wild love
and do it, do it again.
is forming. A man,
half boat, half bull,
paddles out to meet
himself, tougher than
the wood of his board,
waxed with self-belief,
death just one more
wipeout far from shore.