The Way We Write Letters

We must lie long in the weeds
In places like Palo Alto or Perugia,
Get lost to find ourselves, get going soon.
But none of the old Heart & Home;
Be a Logan or Creeley, all arrowheads
And .22 cartridges studded and strewn inside,
Find new places to rest and nest. Get looser;
Get back to (you said) daytime drinking, music
of Telemann, Schutz, Buxtehude.
Don't keep your house in order.
If you have any further suggestions for
Improving chaos, please write or wire.

We should lie long in the woods, full of light.
Old friends get published again, though losing
Their moon & vinegar. Write me soon (I said)
Meanwhile, find a new place too,
Where air, not character is cool.
Not Sausalito. San Gimignano?
There, despite psychiatry, towers simply are
In a piercing, lyric, prodigal confusion,
Regulated. Well, remember Heller in Paradise.
Madness & you (we both said). Stay sane and annoyed,
Drunk in the daytime. Call your book, Home for the Night.
But don't go home tomorrow. Write me instead
From the meadow. Turn on the poem & the light.