for Daniel Arthur Kleiss (1949-2010)
I never bought it—the one about the Chinese poet drunk one night, leaning out of a boat in
order to embrace a watery reflection of the moon, and drowning . . .
It’s the kind of thing people like to think about poets—that we’re easily enraptured, we’re
More likely it happened like it did with Poet Dan, who lived in a tent by the side of the creek
in Topanga. One night looking up during a meteor shower he accidentally dropped …