__________________________ every thing i write is non fiction
ev erything thing i do is non fiction
everything on the contrary is i write is fiction
fiction is everything it's an adventure if it's so if not it's non fiction and its what?
a lot of house and mirrors?
_________________
tues . was a painful day . in every sense. hauling books, missing buses, hating being angry / crying
tears (tarts the word's in there somewhere) scald the skin got/off the bus/ was going nuts/ walked /waited/ was 'angry'
and the legs sore
the shoe don't fit
as it did last week
and loneliness pierces worse than a dagger
the prison the convalescence of the prisoner goes on forever
walking along the river was hateful wind cold and light was slipping away
and some imagined lunatic on the bus not letting me see
or so i thought
a s i m so full of my self
it became all self reproach
.
what bus is this that waits keeps us waiting
what life's this? but then again think of those others under the skies of planes which bomb
their cities ruined destroyed 'on the world tv screen' and the rulers that be
their endless war on others who always appear to be helpless .
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but then I went to a meeting got better spoke a bit got some things off of my chest
going there always helps whether i m happy or in another state and I was glad
to see the new chap there the one i'd seen before working witha newer person
always helps getting oneself out of oneself
so we walked and chatted some and i'll probably see him tomorrow and do another meeting
and that freed me to think of other things having gotten out of myself for a time
less self and more other
(someone i knew was speaking and i'd like the talk )
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reaading Olsen's poetry infuriates me
some thing self indulgent about it in the worst way i've never quite gotten him
perhaps i'm prejudiced by having heard him first i mean seen him first and some measure of self pity there as it were as he's moaning and groaning and the Man was a Giant I
think he was 6feet 7 inches
and massive towering yet the
moan in the words he uttered
i've never quite gotten him
but then im not american
(he meant a lot to american poetry in the 50s )
(canada's poetry problems are not identical and perhaps we are more self identified in the world as the trajetory of english the english tongue through the commonwealth carries another resonance or another distinction (a becoming? an overturning of nationalist values as such ) and 'english' canada
s agon with french (&vice versa) is something americans have not had to deal with )
but then i didnt live when he did
i dug Pound but never quite got what the others purportely following him did
i've never quite gotten Robert Duncan or any of those guys Spicer, the drunk
drinking himself to death ... what kind of aesthetics is that or what sort of poetics is that?
and Robert Duncan i was never much into his work as such his poetry .. his ideas on the other hand were interesting but even there i've never really followed them in any serious enough way...
and Frank O Hara he whose work I used to like so much I read him rarely if at all...
and the same with ashberry i never got much of out his work...
i heard him reading as they call it a few years back
and it was like watching a corpse ....
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it's a strange business this writing business . this poetry life. but there are! dozens! i like!
so what hey ho! let them be!
grace to them!
