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Tuesday, June 30, 2015

R.I.P KEN HUDSON

poet and friend who died yesterday in his chair at home.


Ken - call me when you get there.
Call me collect, if needs be.
Just want to hear how things are -
and, basically, where and when things are
without time and space.
Not much imagery to inspire you and
your metronome is silent by your guitar.
No time for poetry there, I guess.
Well, one good thing: you didn't splutter
into silence like a candle with a burnt-out wick.
May I wish for you as I always have
printer's ink for your crafted words.

2 comments:

Bill Wootton said...

Hope Ken did call in some fashion, collect or not, Andrew. The summons is impassioned. I get a strong sense of Ken.

Andrew said...

Thanks, Bill. Ken had a topsy-turvy life, so he will not be forgotten. He was a highly intelligent and imaginative person who spoke for what he believed in.