ON THE DEATH OF A WRITER FRIEND
           With thanks to Syl K and BŸlent S

I sit down at my PC
The day is gloomy
Ursula Le Guin is dead 
No more verses in e-mail 
No more velvet prose 		steely glance  
A glance at this strange world of ours going to pot
An unfolding of strange other worlds of warning and joy 
We are orphaned indeed 	the shock is strong 
    
I sit down at my PC 
I go on writing 
In the dead of the Winter 
What was our yield from Ursula?
We'll need writers who can remember freedom 
Poets Ð realists of a larger reality 
Even better: O my joy, be free! 
Orphans must become parents 

But things won't be the same as with her 
I bitterly wish this cup had passed me by 
Clouds lour 		rain won't come 
The universe is unfair 

Farther South than South 
Where U went (i like to think) 
You're dancing 	quizzical dragon dear 
In a warmer wind
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