April 2: Went to my first Naropa Poetry reading tonight. Peter Orlovsky was obnoxious at first — Allen finally told him to be quiet. Allen read “After Later” — a great poem in imitation of Robert Creeley. Then Peter got up and extemporaneously composed three very good poems. Stanley was a little overwhelmed, read too… Continue Reading »
April 6: One week up, next week down. Today over Allen’s for 2.5 hours. Allen spent two of those hours on the phone and the other half hour telling me I had zero taste, an unrefined eye — my poems were shallow and stupid. Sometimes I’m glad the apprenticeship is ending — it’s too much… Continue Reading »
April 9: Stanley came over last night for dinner. Talked a little bit about me and my poetry. Read him the new poem which didn’t impress him although he liked parts. But the parts he liked weren’t the major parts. Didn’t discuss old things at all except that “Vows” was too long — that maybe… Continue Reading »
April 11: Another nice compliment yesterday, Sue Rhynhart put her hand on my knee & said, “I love to hear you read. You sound so . . . that I feel right there with you when you read.” Don’t know what she meant really but we were in a roomful of people and all I… Continue Reading »
April 12: Spent 5 and a half hours with Allen today — He was extremely nice — I wonder if Stanley spoke to him about how depressed I was? We had an appointment at 3 and he called me at home at 11:30 saying he might be late but he showed up exactly on time… Continue Reading »
April 13: Here to take training in Shambhala meditation. What attracted me to the TM people in 1973 was that they were so happy and looked completely OUT at you through their eyes — I felt completely seen. The Buddhists don’t impress me that way. They’re reserved. When they look at you (which is rare)… Continue Reading »
April 14: “It’s nice, isn’t it?” Gray hair pulled into a bun, forehead pointed towards the tip of her cane, buried inches deep in brown black mud in the gutter near the curb, white knit sweater over ruffled red fifties dress, when she lifts her head there are endless blue skies instead of eyes reflected… Continue Reading »
April 15: The black bat kite splashes into the wind, sketching the wind, its long feathered tail caught in a branch. A young woman pushes a three-wheeled green shopping cart with a makeshift yellow plastic awning while the man to her right talks into his sleeve and pulls a four-year-old in a red American flyer… Continue Reading »
April 16: Been sleeping poorly, explicit dreams. Been spending too much time on poetry. Last night 4 hours from 11 p.m. to 3 a.m., and then couldn’t get to sleep for well over an hour, lines of poetry and single words running through my head, wouldn’t stop. There’s also a lot of perhaps self-imposed pressure… Continue Reading »
April 17: Ran into Stanley after class. Talking to him I realized how far I’d gone since I was in his class — started talking to him about how the new beginning of “Marjorie” came to me in meditation as a solid chunk. How this morning I suddenly realized there’s another beginning to the poem…. Continue Reading »