Both of us had been close <br />to Joel, and at Joel's death <br />my friend had gone to the wake <br />and the memorial service <br />and more recently he had <br />visited Joel's grave, there <br />at the back of the grassy <br />cemetery among the trees, <br />"a quiet, gentle place," he said, <br />"befitting Joel." And I said, <br />"What's the point of going <br />to look at graves?" I went <br />into one of my celebrated <br />tirades. "People go to look <br />at the grave of Keats or Hart <br />Crane, they go traveling just to <br />do it, and what a waste of time. <br />What do they find there? Hell, <br />I wouldn't go look at the grave <br />of Shakespeare if it was just <br />down the street. I wouldn't <br />look at--" And I stopped. I <br />was about to say the grave of God <br />until I realized I'm looking at it <br />all the time. . . .<br /><br />Hayden Carruth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/graves-2/
