Oh, ah — er — me wantum Chinkie just come in.

You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage; Who did the whole world's soul contract, and drove Into the glasses of your eyes

From the bloodhouses of my youth, vagrant hotels, I see your face / Dead girl (dear Jan!) in smoke-filled rooms—glass-littered slimy floors.

Your honesty & forthrightness in all you do and say is greatly appreciated & welcomed in this age of phonyness & half-truths. We love you, Julia!