you yesterday or even last year or even ten years ago when I first met you, I remember I was terrified of you and Pomeray when you ran up my steps one night with sticks of tea, you looked like a couple of car thieves or bank robbers—And you know a lot of this sneery stuff they’ve written against us, against San Francisco or beat poetry and writers is because a lot of us dont LOOK like writers or intellecuals or anything, you and Pomeray I must say look awful in a way, I’m sure I dont fill the bill either”—“Man you oughta go to Hollywood and play Billy the Kid”—“Man I’d rather go to Hollywood and play Rimbaud”—“Well you cant play Jean Harlow”—“I’d really like to just get my ‘Dark Brown’ published in Paris, do you know that when you think it’s possible a word from you to Gallimard or Girodias would help”—“I dunno”—“Do you know that when I read your poems Mexico City Blues I immediately turned around and started writing a brand new way, you enlightened me with that book”—“But it’s nothing like what you do, in fact it’s miles away, I am a language spinner and you're idea man” and so on we talk till about noon and Ron’s been in and out, ’s’made jaunts to the beach with the little ladies and Pat and I dont realize the sun has come out but still sit there deep in the cabin by now talking about Villon and Cervantes.
Suddenly, boom, the door of the cabin is flung open with a loud crash and a burst of sunlight illuminates the room and I see an Angel standing arm outstretched in the door!—It’s Cody! all dressed in his Sunday best in a suit! beside him are ranged several graduating golden angels from Evelyn golden beautiful wife down to the most dazzling angel of them all little Timmy with the sun striking off his hair in beams!—It’s such an incredible sight and surprise that both Pat and I rise from our chairs involuntarily, like we’ve been lifted up in awe, or scared, tho I dont feel scared so much as ecstatically amazed as tho I’ve seen a vision—And the way Cody stands there not saying a word with his arm outstretched for some reason, struck a pose of some sort to surprise us or warn us, he’s so much like St. Michael
