Letter to Chuck Leaf

Bulldog, standing in the rain, I see ends for you delight; I see objects; I see fear and beginnings. But you, Nobody, Nowhere, Nothing no reason to remain, waiting, and emptiness to go away. Standing in the rain. I say you should do something. It was quiet the other day. The wind made some noise, but it was quiet. I don’t expect jets or bombs. I don’t expect reasons. I was content with the quiet, except that I was tired I began to see that there are no vacuums no emptiness, just sometimes things don’t exist, nothing. End of part two. If you can do something, that’s an answer. Something that happens is a reason. I was thinking the other day about The Man Who Died. I would have had Jesus, in the flesh after his resurrection, instead of bodily ascending into heaven amidst clouds and angels, walking into the desert, his mouth firm, without sustenance no appointment of disciples to a lifetime of preaching and no utterance of prophetic nature about his return. I imagine a motely assortment of believers and fools following him a few days before giving up and dragging home. I imagine the man trudging on, and finally walking alone. I’d rather the miracle of disappearance had been on earth, with Jesus doing something. Walking, dying of starvation, but doing something, and not having something done to him. Enough said. In spite of what could have happened, wouldn’t the last man to see Jesus or the man who wrote the story say Jesus was lifted up a cloud taking him out of sight? Nothing ever coming down. This might be applicable elsewhere. What was was and in the same way who we are we are. Wouldn’t any change have to be imagined, turned around the same to meet us turning?

November 1971