Mr. Williams.

C.K. Williams
excerpt from The Poet

I always knew him as "Bobby the poet," though whether he was one or not,
someone who lives in words, making a world from their music, might be a question.

In those strange years of hippiedom and "people-power," saying you were an artist
made you one, but at least Bobby acted the way people think poets are suppose to.

He dressed plainly, but with flair, spoke little, yet listened with genuine attention,
and a kind of preoccupied, tremulous seriousness always seemed to absorb him.

Also he was quite good-looking, and mysterious, never saying where he'd come from,
nor how he lived now: I thought he might be on welfare, but you didn't ask that.