If you want me again look for me under your boot soles.

Death, the cliché assures us, is the great leveler; but it obviously levels some a great deal more than others.

That's what an obit is supposed to be-a picture, a snapshot. It's not a full-length biography, it's not a portrait. It's a quick picture.

All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road.
Healthy, free, the world before me.
The long brown path before me leading me wherever I choose.
Henceforth, I ask not good fortune, I myself am good fortune.
Henceforth, I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing.

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun.... there are millions of suns left,
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand.... nor look through the eyes of the dead.... nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from yourself.