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Lawrence Ferlinghetti died, at age 101.
I am leading a quiet life
in Mike’s Place every day
watching the champs
of the Dante Billiard Parlor
and the French pinball addicts.
I am leading a quiet life
on lower East Broadway.
I am an American.
I was an American boy.
Love this. A great man. Gone.
On Ferlenghetti's 100th birthday I posted the following poem. Today I'm thinking that the days won't be quite so fine anymore.
Recipe For Happiness Khaborovsk Or Anyplace
by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
One grand boulevard with trees
with one grand cafe in sun
with strong black coffee in very small cups.
One not necessarily very beautiful
man or woman who loves you.
One fine day.