News just reached me in España that one of my mentors, the Flagstaff-based poet Jim Simmerman, passed away a few weeks ago. He had been ill and in pain for quite some time and took his own life. I took several classes from him during my time in Flagstaff, he's the one responisble for introducing me to forms of poetry... the villanelles, sestinas, all that. He also helped me get one of the papers I wrote for his class published in a rag with national distribution. He was at least 1/2 of the poetry department at the entire university.
What does it mean to be grateful to someone and miss the chance to tell them so?
People don't last forever. Wandering these narrow streets for you tonight, Jim.
more info in the comments below...