Not to ghoulishly drop into this community and drop some bad poetry out of nowhere, but I thought it would be for the best to post here, it's a more appropriate fit in Livejournal than the Wallace list-serv, which I've been (mostly lurking) a member for nearly eight years now. (Not sending it out is not an option for me right now, writing, scratch that, writing for an AUDIENCE, is the only thing helping me out) Also, as a note, and this may have been mentioned earlier, so I apologize for any repition, iif you aren't on the firstname.lastname@example.org, I recommend joining for at least a bit, it has been sort of a small, good thing (as Carver would have it) to help us through this rough patch. We have been each others grief counselers.
In any case. Two Davids
There are so many people in the world Who will never, ever, meet David Jacco Chances are that you are one of them
And there are so many words Which have been left unwritten by David Wallace, And we all know that they will never be written.
And if I weep (And I do weep) I weep as much for us As I do for them