I’ve always called it love at first sight. What I mean is a compelling visceral attraction that overpowers competing instincts, any tendency to caution or reason. When Frank said hello I fell in love with his voice. By the end of that day, I was sure I loved everything he had been, was then, would ever be. He was wildly enthusiastic about my painting― there’s nothing like being understood. In the weeks that followed I read from his manuscripts and made drawings based on the poems. He bought me notebooks and different kinds of pens to try out. He said, Paint an old man sitting by a coffin waving at the moon; a fat lady shelling peas and a centaur behind her; a blind Gypsy holding a conch shell. Paint a white horse breaking away from a funeral hearse; a scarecrow wearing a kimono. Paint smoke rings.I’d never heard anything like it.

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