requiescat in pace, señor. . . . . I am leading a quiet life / in Mike's Place every day / watching the pocket pool players / making the minestrone scene / wolfing the macaronis / and I have read somewhere / the Meaning of Existence / yet have forgotten / just exactly where. . But I am the man / and I'll be there. . And I may cause the lips / of those who are asleep / to speak. . And I may make my notebooks / into sheaves of grass. . And I may write my own eponymous epitaph / instructing the horsemen / to pass. .