Here's a poem I wrote in memoriam for Larry Eigner on the day before the funeral. It was a silvery rainy morning when I wrote the poem; the next day, the day of the funeral, was clear and blue and with a copper hawk soaring high above the grave. I said a few words, which will appear in Sulfur, and put a copy of this poem into the grave. McNaughton, Greiner, Foley, and others were there.
Kush did a video on the funeral ceremony and then a video tour of Eigner's house which is at the end of the tape. Eigner's home is a maelstrom of decaying papers, but glimmering with the underlying creative order. The home looks like the end of the universe and Spring at the same time. Maybe that's what we all are.