Poems by John Solt
for Kenneth Rexroth (1905-82)
celebrating your 113th birthday
there are fewer to hoist the non-flag
and share still fresh memories
a master of cubism
in literature and painting
while Amerikkka wallowed in provincialism
and so so much much more more
you are etched inside the inner walling
of countless brains spinning
through space as the planet
does a pirouette to halfhearted ovation
(who was the first monkey to clap
and was it subconsciously for evolution?)
any thought in its time
leads me back to
the 36th year without you
EROS UNTIL THE END
stories i heard about Kenneth Rexroth
from Georgia Tracy at Carol Tinker's funeral
April 13, 2012
Santa Barbara, California
one of three caregivers
for Kenneth Rexroth
at the end of his life (1982)
said at his wife's funeral
"He had the tubes in
one of the other nurses
had big breasts and he
wanted to touch them
"At first she wasn't sure
but eventually said
'why not?' and let him"
Kenneth had written
persuasively about
the Boddhisattva's Vow,
it must have been
his karmic repayment
to meet one at the end
Georgia also said
"When Kenneth died
the electricity blew
throughout the house
except for in his room
"I was with him
at the very end
his spine quivered
as if the energy
rose to his head
and light shone through
then he fell back
the breath gone
"We nurses on the three shifts
went out after he died
to have a meal together
I said 'Kenneth was always
talking on my shift, so lively,
he must have slept on yours.'
but each said 'no,' so we knew
he was almost always awake
entertaining us
he lived his dying
as excitingly as his life"
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