William Joyce honored me with a poem...

Hi folks,

Two days ago, William Joyce (also writing as Guillermo O'Joyce) wrote a poem for me. I can't begin to tell you how honored, humbled and thrilled it has made me. William wrote a book, that for me, was the best novel I've ever read. He's one of the true rebels in literature and in life. He walked with the kings of literature and was one of royalty himself.

Just want to share it with you here. Of all the awards and honors I've received this ranks up there at the top, along with Anthony Neil Smith's book dedication and Joe Lansdale naming me as his favorite crime writer.


William Joyce



Poem

                                        Poem for Edgerton
                               There's you, there's me,                               there's Crotty.                               That's it                               in the whole world.                               Fire, water, wind.                               You, me, Crotty.
                               But say this                                to anyone                               they will get angry,                                scalding angry,                                some will want to fight. 
                               People think they have                                options,                               lots of options                               that keep them                                free                               of the treadmill.
                               In 1928 it was the same.                               all sorts                               of voices                               Pound, Hemingway, Fitzgerald,                               Thomas Mann,                               Pearl Buck and Huck                               Finn, Little Sparrow,                               The Duke, the Count, the Satchmo.                               Culture was everywhere                               as Germany paid off                               its premium                               to the victorious nations.
                               Oct. 24th, 1929, the bottom                               fell out of currency                               and not even                               J.P. Morgan cranked up                               his victrola.                               No one read                               anything.                               They just screamed                               at their mates.                               Oct. 24th, 1929, a lot more                               than currency                               got ditched.
                               Three years later                               there was Celine                               romping                               like a feverish gazelle                               over the broken belly                               of Europe,                               and Miller leaking                               out of a tiny bookstore                               in Paris,                               then Chaplin delighting                               in the catastrophic                               breakdown                               with "Modern Times".
                               Now it is 1928                               all over                               and people are still                               running in place                               in over-priced                                weight-control centers.                                 In 100 years                                they haven't learned                               a thing.                               Haven't learned                                there's fire, wind, and water,                               there's Edgerton, Crotty, and me.


Thank you, William.
Blue skies,Les
P.S. Crotty refers to a close friend of his and mine, Ger Crotty, an Irishman who toils mightily to get William's work read and appreciated.
This is the novel that Neil Smith has dedicated to me. If I die tomorrow, these three honors will be more than enough...