Well, let's see now.
Let me read you a poem to WCW, whose initials should
be familiar to some of you, William Carlos Williams.
We were good friends for a long while.
And this is a poem about his death.
"Three in Transition."
That is three sections in transition,
three short sections.
I wish I understood the beauty and leaves falling to whom
are we beautiful as we go.
I lie in the field still absorbing the stars
and silently throwing off their presence.
Silently I breathe and die by turns.
He was ripe and fell to the ground from a bow,
out where the wind is free of the branches.