Monday, October 31, 2016

William Joyce honored me with a poem...

Hi folks,

Two days ago, William Joyce (also writing as Guillermo O'Joyce) wrote a poem for me. I can't begin to tell you how honored, humbled and thrilled it has made me. William wrote a book, that for me, was the best novel I've ever read. He's one of the true rebels in literature and in life. He walked with the kings of literature and was one of royalty himself.

Just want to share it with you here. Of all the awards and honors I've received this ranks up there at the top, along with Anthony Neil Smith's book dedication and Joe Lansdale naming me as his favorite crime writer.

William Joyce


                                        Poem for Edgerton

                               There's you, there's me,
                               there's Crotty.
                               That's it
                               in the whole world.
                               Fire, water, wind.
                               You, me, Crotty.

                               But say this 
                               to anyone
                               they will get angry, 
                               scalding angry, 
                               some will want to fight. 

                               People think they have 
                               lots of options
                               that keep them 
                               of the treadmill.

                               In 1928 it was the same.
                               all sorts
                               of voices
                               Pound, Hemingway, Fitzgerald,
                               Thomas Mann,
                               Pearl Buck and Huck
                               Finn, Little Sparrow,
                               The Duke, the Count, the Satchmo.
                               Culture was everywhere
                               as Germany paid off
                               its premium
                               to the victorious nations.

                               Oct. 24th, 1929, the bottom
                               fell out of currency
                               and not even
                               J.P. Morgan cranked up
                               his victrola.
                               No one read
                               They just screamed
                               at their mates.
                               Oct. 24th, 1929, a lot more
                               than currency
                               got ditched.

                               Three years later
                               there was Celine
                               like a feverish gazelle
                               over the broken belly
                               of Europe,
                               and Miller leaking
                               out of a tiny bookstore
                               in Paris,
                               then Chaplin delighting
                               in the catastrophic
                               with "Modern Times".

                               Now it is 1928
                               all over
                               and people are still
                               running in place
                               in over-priced 
                               weight-control centers.  
                               In 100 years 
                               they haven't learned
                               a thing.
                               Haven't learned 
                               there's fire, wind, and water,
                               there's Edgerton, Crotty, and me.

Thank you, William.

Blue skies,

P.S. Crotty refers to a close friend of his and mine, Ger Crotty, an Irishman who toils mightily to get William's work read and appreciated.

This is the novel that Neil Smith has dedicated to me. If I die tomorrow, these three honors will be more than enough...

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