he was a handsome man
and what i want to know is
how do you like your blue-eyed boy
- - e.e. cummings
“I was merely the medium through which the words went.” – Richard Burton
|Listen Yorick: The love, beauty, fame. and death|
The Voice was cleaved from a coal face deep beneath Welsh meadows always rich as the grass is green. It was born to be heard, that played language as an errant storm god racing the wind in pursuit of love, beauty, fame and death.
|The Voice....the voice|
Absolve him of the drinking, the carousing, the nightclubs, the women, the reckless embrace of a mythic gift, and listen just as Shakespeare completes Hamlet’s soliloquy and hands the paper, still wet with ink, to Burton, to the one who can force the green fuse of life up through the roiling blood of his lungs and out into the world forever breathing.