on learning about the death of david foster wallace, a writer I admired.


Girl With Curious Hair

~for mister foster wallace

David Foster Wallace committed suicide.
I sit in my bedroom remarkably unsettled,
knowing how pale my talent is compared
to his wintry words some might remember
him as a figment of clarity, others by
his soft hair. One day the sunlight too
will be dead and the cracked city streets
will cry for a new resource of light.
David once wrote: there's something missing.
Like an angel of judgement, he was right.





Poetry by Lisa Zaran
Read 1079 times
Written on 2008-09-24 at 01:45

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