The Deleted Safari, or Dial W for Basho

Lest my writing be found by some bored blog troller looking for sites dealing with safari recommendations and reflections, this is not a post about African ungulates. For that matter, this is not a post about much of anything, except that the search for a proper thematic orientation for the utopic project continues. I will try to write more about that soon, but I felt like writing something for a former colleague. This one is for W.

Do they know what to do with you in Texas, bearded red like some New World pirate?

Your wit, your scandalous humor, and the ever-present addiction to novel things: ancient ideas, neologisms, shocking concepts, and new bodies. A bawdy boy with a penchant for wordplay--who could not love you?

We are sorry that they lacked imagination. We are sorrier still that Tony was incapable of taking your advice. Yes, the loss is his own, but I feel we all have been cheated.

Roll the bracelet over the thin bones of your wrist; Lift those eyebrows in mocked surprise.

Nothing can disappoint one who is learning to let go, yet still drawing everything in.