My father, the man who raised me, taught me, and introduced me to so many wonderful things - hiking, philosophy, poetry, gaming, carving, and painting, amongst many other vocations - passed away. Such times as these when I've lost a close friend and cherished mentor, before, have caused me to think of e.e. cummings' poem 'Buffalo Bill'...
defunct
who used to
ride a watersmooth-silver
stallion
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeons justlikethat
Jesus
he was a handsome man
and what I want to know is
how do you like your blue-eyed boy
Mister Death
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