Dashiell Hammett worked for the Pinkerton Agency as a private investigator and one of his cases was silent film star Fatty Arbuckle’s alleged rape of Virginia Rappe, an aspiring actress who died from a ruptured bladder two days later. Although Arbuckle was acquitted, his career never recovered. Hammett, however, went on to become one of the greatest hard-boiled detective pulp fiction novelists and film noir screenplay writers of all-time.


“Cool summer nights. Windows open. Lamps burning.
Fruit in the bowl. And your head on my shoulder.
These the happiest moments in the day.
Next to the early morning hours, of course.
And the time just before lunch. And the afternoon,
and early evening hours. But I do love these
summer nights. Even more, I think, than those other
times. The work finished for the day.
And no one who can reach us now. Or ever.”
~ Raymond Carver



To exist is to defy all that threatens you. To be a rebel is not to accumulate a library of subversive books or to dream of fantastic conspiracies or of taking to the hills. It is to make yourself your own law. To find in yourself what counts. To make sure that you’re never “cured” of your youth. To prefer to put everyone up against the wall rather than to remain supine. To pillage whatever can be converted to your law, without concern for appearance.

~  Dominique Venner (1935-2013)


Epitaph for
The lost poem
Which contained
And nothing.
Touched everyone, anyone
Who desired
The mystery of mysteries
Words of words, which brought forth
Both blessed & cursed us
Married us, buried us and parted
The heavens and the
Deep blue seas
Made Houdini disappear
And broke the sole of
Khrushchev’s soul
Shot Kennedy
And then shot a rocket
To the moon
Sold us, indiscriminate
Commanded us to war and glory
And holocaust – unimagined imagination
The scavengers & architects, history
Fighting for space apocalyptic
Down on Wall Street and in the Silicone Valley
Stages of poetry and stages
Of time living, breathing & dying
On the battlefields
Of life.
The Poem,
Too early
Too late
Too bad
The lost poem
Which contained
Nothing and everything
Everything and nothing
At all.
You left it home on the
Kitchen table where your children
Drew on it
In crayon
It is just as well.

It’s The Words …

R.M. Engelhardt
R.M. Engelhardt

Photo Compliments of Albany Poets, 2013


Thanks …

“It is the quality of one’s convictions that determines success, not the number of followers.”

~ Remus


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