I know Henry through books. When I had my shop, fleamarkets, fairs. He's out there. And now he's in here. Ex boxer. Irishman. Consumate New Yorker. A classmate of Vito Acconci. Nearly got thrown out of art school for doing a performance involving walking around shroud in an actual sheep skin from a butchershop while a transistor radio blaired 1010 wins news radio through the class. Someday he will write an explanation of that, and you will see it published here. For now, I am to remind you that the above poem is the copyright of Henry Fireater.