Hand-lettered text of the poem

What Force

Avoiding “useless nonsense” what force compelled him? What finer ability or inability distinguished his philosophy of statement, neither admitting unproven capacities nor dreaming of stranger things, experience beyond conceptions? When his alley in the morning light tin seascape did he see it? Not like the categorical imperative could he gather words for it. Soon the jumble blue anapestic paste of melon and he grew old.

16 June 1984, Berkeley