When Harmon and I
went to visit Robert Bly he was living
on this farm in Minnesota,
don't know if that's where he is now but
back then as I looked at the ice
in his hair and the shit on his boots and listened
to the meandering small talk
between him and Bill I kept thinking
no, no way this man isn't a poet, poets don't live
like this or talk like this
but now when I dare to call myself a poet too
all I can say
is they do they do
� 2004 by James Lineberger
