-first things: 3/22/16-

I'm informed this morning

via the "Writer's Almanac" webpage

of the birthdate of poet Billy Collins;

This, after reading in the N.Y. Times on-line

reports of the bombings in Brussels;

This, not long after reports of the carnage in Paris.

Billy's been quoted as saying

that in Paris as a visiting teenager

he once sat at a cafe table with a small
group of people which included Gregory Corso.

News of the bombings was horrifying,—

Scores dead at the airport and the subway station.

Scores dead as in most bombings.

I enjoy reading Corso. 

Collins didn’t say if he still does.

Maybe Corso was a passing phase at his younger,
more adventurous staging in life.

As a kid, Collins fantasized driving cross country
like Neal Cassidy, but couldn't because he said,—
which made me laugh,— "there was always

a test to study for, or band practice".

It was a humorous addendum to the musings
of a teenage poem-writer-dreamer who spent a summer
in Paris in the 1950s and there, snacked with Gregory Corso.
A light snow fell last night.

In the kitchen I poured a second cup and pushed-
open the shuttered windows in the downstairs bedroom
overlooking the backyard's peaceful standing for the cat's interest

before finding my way back to the Times on-line and to bloodshed

in Brussels.