"I keep practicing death and as the worms writhe in agony of waiting I might as well have another drink, and I am thinking I am there: and I cross my legs in the patio of some Mexico City hotel in 1997 and the birds come down to pick out my eyes and the birds fly away and I no longer see them."

From the poem "Practice" appearing in The Roominghouse Madrigals: Early Selected Poems 1946-1966. 

I find it eerie that he was so close in the prediction of his death year. He died in 1994, just three years off Hank!