Before I began life this time br I took a crash course in Counter-Intelligence br Once here I signed in, see name below, and added br Some words remembered from an earlier time, br 'The intention of the organism is to survive.' br My earliest, & happiest, memories pre-date WWII, br They involve a glass slipper & a helpless blue rose br In a slender blue single-rose vase: Mine br Was a story without a plot. The days of my years br Folded into one another, an easy fit, in which br I made money & spent it, learned to dance & forgot, gave br Blood, regained my poise, & verbalized myself a place br In Society. 101 St. Mark's Place, apt. 12A, NYC 10009 br New York. Friends appeared & disappeared, or wigged out, br Or stayed; inspiring strangers sadly died; everyone br I ever knew aged tremendously, except me. I remained br Somewhere between 2 and 9 years old. But frequent br Reification of my own experiences delivered to me br Several new vocabularies, I loved that almost most of all. br I once had the honor of meeting Beckett & I dug him. br The pills kept me going, until now. Love, & work, br Were my great happinesses, that other people die the source br Of my great, terrible, & inarticulate one grief. In my time br I grew tall & huge of frame, obviously possessed br Of a disconnected head, I had a perfect heart. The end br Came quickly & completely without pain, one quiet night as I br Was sitting, writing, next to you in bed, words chosen randomly br From a tired brain, it, like them, suitable, & fitting. br Let none regret my end who called me friend.