I didnâ€™t know Elliott Dabinsky that well. I imagine few did. He was a bitter, angry man, tormented by physical infirmities. He lashed out at those he felt pitied him because of his appearance.
Yet the same anger that drove his abrasiveness also fueled his poetry â€“ a mixture of raw passion and sensitivity that made you stop, think and learn. He could be funny and touching in rare moments when he chose to be but usually hid those traits behind a gruff, angry exterior that shut out the world.