Thanks go out to Rachel for putting me onto this poet and this poem.
It appears I may have a new major character for my work-in-progress crime novel about Beat poets and jazz players. Gilbert was there, hanging around with Ginsburg, Kerouac, Diane DiPrima. And this poem is a haunting parallel to Eleventy Se7en Reasons for Thanks, one of my own. I wouldn’t be surprised if I read the Gilbert piece 20 years ago, forgot it, and then suddenly stole from him subconsciously this week in composing my own.