Performed by Val Cole Get to know the poet: 1) What is the theme of your poem? I lived in the abandoned farmhouse the poem describes for a year or so with my sister and our boyfriends. While we enjoyed our life there—sweating in the “outhouse-turned-sauna” and then jumping into the icy creek—it was a peculiar place. Well suited with its moribund feeling for the suicide some years later by a distant friend of my sister’s. 2) What motivated you to write this poem? When I heard about Roger’s suicide, I was living in Catalonia, Spain. The news startled me and took me back to the farmhouse. The poem reflects my memory’s attempt to capture it. 3) How long have you been writing poetry? Ooph! Some 50 years! 4) If you could have dinner with one person (dead or alive), who would that be? My sister Melinda, whose earlier death–possibly also by suicide but unconfirmed–shaped me. We started life in cribs placed in a T shape, where we chatted with each other before we’d learned to talk (or so my mother told me). 5) What influenced you to submit to have your poetry performed by a professional actor? To be honest, I didn’t understand what the submission would mean. Now that I know, I’m thrilled. I’m sharing the readings with those who shared my life in Minnesota. 6) Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..? No. Poetry it is! 7) What is your passion in life? To transform this world into a better place for all. — POEM: TO WARREN AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA I Oh Warren at the bottom of the sea, You never return to me. Every day your distance grows As you’re carried out by the tide’s flows Farther and farther, o deep-sea floater. Oh Warren at the bottom of the sea, Won’t you come back to me? With each day your distance grows I succumb to memory’s throes Over the death of you. This is no lighthearted rhyme But my futile protest at time For having left me behind. I stumble in the sand, My hands grope for you. II Hark my love! And forgive the laden language. The thick yellow crescent of the moon Above the crest of the mountains Casts gold across the black Bay And sparkles on the dimpled water. Hark Warren at the bottom of the sea! Thrill to the beauty of the moon’s rays Penetrating to where your body lays To illuminate your gentle rest.