A Poem

Yo dog, check this out. I found it in an old New Yorker. It's about my boy Blake.

Blake

I watch William Blake, who spotted angels
every day in treetops
and met God on the staircase
of his little house and found light in the grimy alleys--

Blake, who died
singing gleefully
in a London thronged
with streetwalkers, admirals and miracles,

William Blake, engraver, who labored
and lived in poverty but not despair,
who received burning signs
from the sea and from the starry sky,

who never lost hope, since hope
was always born anew like breath,
I see those who walked like him on graying streets
headed toward the dawn's rosy orchid.

Adam Zagajewski
translated by Claire Cavanagh

Cool. I'm a big fan of William Blake. I love the line about "poverty but not despair." In this regard, I am Blake-like, albeit with a bit less talent. I hope whoever reads this gets the urge to buy me dinner the next time they see me.

This is Plate 1 of "The Book of Thel," which I am assuming you have read.



If not, it's way too complicated to explain. But perhaps this, Thel's motto, rings a bell:

Does the Eagle know what is in the pit,

Or wilt thou go ask the Mole?

Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod,

Or Love in a golden bowl?

Manomanoman, that boy could generate some copy. I'm assuming the whole Mole thing is a Wind in the Willows reference, but I'm not getting it.

Warren Buffett, just for the record, said Never ask a barber if you need a haircut--which is a somewhat easier connection to make.

Vince Lombardi said, "Dancing is a contact sport. Football is a hitting sport."

Anyway, now you are a better person. At least incrementally.

I am still, however, your daddy.