And if he sings
-------------------with care,
he sings
------------------a new song
made of old
---------------flints struck.
New fires/
--------------------/flames.
O.K. He sings his source.
The photograph above is Ted Enslin a year ago right in his natural habitat: the Maine seacoast.
I'll miss Ted for sure. Next to no one like him the last 50 years in US poetry, maybe the last 100 years. He stayed independent to the shivering end.
Thanks again to Whit Griffin who took some of the finest photographs of Ted in his last decade.
The poem of Ted's is from an appreciation piece I wrote about him tucked inside his Little Wandering Flake of Snow, published by Alec Finlay as a Morning Star Folio 1/4, Edinburgh ~ Scotland.
photo © whit griffin
