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Personal Note:

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Poem

We came to your home
Jack
Hidden amongst bosom 
hills and armies of trees 
past the State gates 
who finally admitted 
us entry to your tomb
they keep you here 
Jack 
in memory, first editions 
your wife spent years 
here alone, your phantom 
haunting the halls 
the woods
her memory 
she built this place
like the Egyptians of old 
dragging each mental stone 
one 
       upon
                the other 
cranium slave labor 
of awe 
    fear
     love 
a physical testament 
to your published 
achievements and 
emotional fingerprint 
you left your mark
everywhere
Jack
Hawaii where you 
danced the headhunter 
dance of primitive times 
donned your outfit 
and howled to the 
new moon of inspiration 
Jack 
you and wife traveled 
the oceans just like
your novels 
your life ebbing and 
alive 
still 
in these pages of 
Calling and White 
you observed life 
and the universe 
and without hesitation 
you recorded it for us
Christopher Columbus 
Sir Francis Drake 
of reality fiction 

But reality has a way 
of finding even the 
largest child as we 
hide from it or
ignore it before its 
to late 
it found you after 
your Wolf House burned 
and the booze burned 
you for far too long 
you slept the final 
sleep 
on the porch of 
inspiration 
like a babe you returned 
now we see the 
ruins of the Wolf House 
and your grave 
your ashes 
beneath the stone 
next to your wife 
across from the two 
children's markers 
the birds crying as 
we all do for you 
Jack

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