On Reading a Well-Known Poet's Obituary

How sad,
reading your obituary.

How sad that the world knows who you are,
but not me.

I've lost the chance for
eager anticipation.

I've never heard your name before,
never seen a poem,
but the signs of your life are all there,

Finally,
spread out for all to see.

I've found out the secret lives of mournful acquaintances-
you've never mentioned this,
apparently we never talk about the important things,
until it's too late.

Awareness of your greatness,
the loss of your words,
your world,
the particular way you view things--

It's like losing peripheral vision
I didn't know I had,
like the three blind men and the elephant,
I didn't know this part could be written.

Wondering if there is something that
connects
the tail with the trunk,
Us, in one place,
if we will ever meet in spirit,
or in person,
or if not in person,
on the page.