On the Death of Lawrence Ferlinghetti

When I heard on the radio that Lawrence Ferlinghetti had died on this day 22022021 I was driving and I knew just what to do to extend him further. I noticed things. The blackberry tendrils in the unkempt city space by which I was stopped awaiting a light. The sound of two streets, one an interstate street, crossing each other. The debris of this intersection, exposed rebar tendrils in mid-air over spare sky where an old gas station now a detail shop

Where you must buy details for your too vague life

Clings next to our newest spur of the town. I noticed the godly

Probably some Hindu god that I don’t understand but that Lawrence would

Godly lighting of those new prongs rising beyond and the nearly ancient river yet beyond that. I imagined wry-ness in the tents of the homeless encampment and fell off a cliff trying to imagine and feel enough to hold in the whole of the world including the life inside those tents and choked and realized I was not noticing and tried to get back to noticing.