Ferlinghetti said, "Like a bowl of roses, a poem should not have to be explained."
Edward Curtis
When you died
The box camera
Would not fit in
Your casket.
Certain that your dreams
Could be held in
Sepia toned photogravures.
Just one more wax cylinder
For heralding angels was a silent
Plea.
Among Nez Perce you
Caught shadows on glass
And dressed warriors
Out of time. So much apparatus
Your troupe
Outnumbered the tribe.
In debt you photographed
Jewels embedded in eyes
That no one could purchase,
Just a people a language a time
Fading away.
When they buried you
A shelf should have been laid
Round your body
Formed of your exposed
transparencies.
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