a poem by Edward Smith: 
[posted November 03]

WELCOME, DARLING

you join me in my dream
the night before I read
"New Living Room" in
the U City Loop to
	Holly & strangers
there is nothing safe
about your appearance, I
hide from you in
a convoluted suite of medical offices
in the bottom of a 100 year old bathtub
in the blowing fabric
	of the curtain
		of the dream, blowing in
a late October warm wind


	###


what does it matter that
my two favorite poets
dead in the 2nd half of
	the 20th Century
both wrote transcendentally great
poems for a guy named
	Bill Berkson
art critic, curator, sometime
poet, Lucky Pierre
in O'Hara's silly definition
of "personism" Berkson
is the poem as go-between
entitled to that exquisite
literary orgasm
	a moment on a bridge
sighs, sorrows, tears, im-
	mortality

           Edward Smith 
			10/30/03
			O'Fallon IL

eavesdrop on email exchange between Klyd and Edward about this poem