He sang of life, serenely sweet,
With, now and then, a deeper note.
From some high peak, nigh yet remote,
He voiced the world's absorbing beat.
He sang of love when earth was young,
And Love, itself, was in his lays.
But, ah, the world, it turned to praise
A jingle in a broken tongue.
With, now and then, a deeper note.
From some high peak, nigh yet remote,
He voiced the world's absorbing beat.
He sang of love when earth was young,
And Love, itself, was in his lays.
But, ah, the world, it turned to praise
A jingle in a broken tongue.
August 10 89
Chelsea Hotel
222 W. 23
When I die
Don't bury me
Just throw away
My hotel key
Rene Ricard
Rene Ricard, Art Arbiter With Wildean Wit, Dies at 67
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/02/07/arts/rene-ricard-art-arbiter-with-wildean-wit-dies-at-67.htmlhttp://www.vocativ.com/02-2014/remembering-rene-ricard-man-made-basquiat-famous/
