splat 13

dear catullo:

woke up this morning the usual way -- if i still smoked i’d have lit up -- instead -- rather -- thought of you & yr poems & wondered if you knew what or whom you were writing for -- yr manuscript had been purportedly lost for hundreds of years -- not that you knew that or even cared -- it is easier to graft my own self to yr poems -- is that the nature of translation? -- & say that the that we are writing for is the large unknown -- i think you’d laughed yr ass off at that -- still i am writing to you -- o horny one -- in this -- our -- continuous present