When the last living thing
has died on account of us,
how poetical it would be
if Earth could say,
in a voice floating up
perhaps
from the floor
of the Grand Canyon,
“It is done.”
People did not like it here.
Kurt Vonnegut wrote this Requiem two years ago. He was my idol in the 1960s and he died last week. I bored 16 year old Girls Grammar School students with endless quotations at Ed’s coffee bar in Lancaster – every night. Very existentialist (Not!). His great novel, Slaughterhouse-Five is not to be missed. The man spent his life on The Edge. So it goes.
Tags: Kurt Vonnegut