Poem: A Lifetime of Listening to Lou

A poem about hearing Lou Reed across 40 years or more…

Lou Reed singing Wild Child…
It always gets me. The riff. Those
toy-store drums. And then the

lyrics about Genghis Khan and
a wizard’s hat. Like, what the
fuck was that? (I remember thinking

at eight, now again at 48).
Someone said, just after we heard
he was dead, that Lou Reed did

a lot with not much — managed
more with what he had than almost
anyone in music. Ride Into The Sun.