Page 67 - Jack Foley | The true litterateur
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               so many of his lines came to

               me                                             something vampire like
               Altarwise by owl-light                         in what I did to his sensual lips-

               And you, my father                             -
               I scribbled them down                          my attention fully fixed.

               but then realized                              I read him as a boy
               it was the face that drew me                   as a man
               as I drew,                                     as an old man

               that and the polka dot bow tie                 and as I drew him
               how many fat men                               with my limited capacities

               look like children?                            I found something
               at this moment as he posed                     I could not fully catch

               in that ridiculous tie                         in words
               you could see                                  even his

               the deep child on the Edenic                   that have stayed with me
               farm                                           over the deep years
               but also the death-haunted,                    over the many

               aging man                                      misunderstandings of my
               I think I saw death in that                    heart

               photo                                          over my many fool's errands
               and it changed whatever I was                  over the delusion that my

               drawing                                        drawings or my poetry have
               "he looked for his death,"                     any genuine artistic merit--

               said Richard Burton,                           none of that mattered:
               "and he finally found it"                      there, as I looked,
               I wanted to scream                             there was only Dylan Thomas

               as I drew him--                                and myself
                                                              and the worlds that arise

                                                              when you meet
                                                              a broken master.

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