When a friend of mine lost her father, she remarked at how strange it seemed that her father was gone, but the world kept going on its way as always.
My reaction was different when my father died; I was relatively young, and it felt like something impossible had happened.
He was quite spare and ridgid with his verse, as though each word cost a silver dollar. Thoughts edited down to the bone, most the fat now cut away.
I may be more interested in reading a biography of this Poet than reading much of his work.
He would have loved the Internet with it’s immediacy of possible contact, but I suspect , he would have remained mostly concealed behind Masks and Distracting avatars.