I’d asked Robert Frank to take portrait for Selected Poems dust jacket, he showed up late Sunday afternoon, truck parked across from my apartment, yelled up, he had no camera. I came down with Leica & Fuji 6×9, he took some photos midstreet by his car, I snapped him thus, then with my Fuji he said, “This’ll be it,” as long lambent orange sunlight rayed down East 12th Street from Hudson River horizon, it worked fine for book, he was relaxed, accidentally unerring. N.Y. June 9, 1996.