lunch his favorite meal.
a number of years ago i met several times a poet who owned an art gallery—a friend of mine was sort of stalking him—in a most pleasant, non-threatening way. around noon the poet would call the deli downstairs and say: ‘hi. it’s geoff. [his name was geoff.] it’s sandwich time.’
for me, it is sandwich time.
the poet also said: ‘that’s pretty cheap, for art.’ after i liked a picture but was appalled at how much it cost. he was right. and i am often remembering this sentence; it is one of my favorites. i feel like there are years worth of worldly wisdom and explanation crystallized in it.
i didn’t like his writing because he didn’t like mine.