Sunday, January 07, 2018

Well sums up Christmas/NY minus how deathly ill I was


I love the hooky new, death-obsessed Ariel Pink.
His most Mark Strand-like outing yet!

Saturday, November 18, 2017

Monday, September 11, 2017

John's dead. "these days stand like vapor under the trees."

He visited Wellesley in 2007. After a brilliant reading, he took some questions. A voice from the back row asked, “What influence has food had on your work?” John giggled and looked delighted. He started in on an answer when the man clarified: he’d said Proust. John’s spirit sunk a little, though he still managed to give a brilliant answer. I always think of that moment when I imagine Ashbery’s mind, so brightened by the opportunity to talk at length about the meals he remembered.


Wednesday, August 30, 2017


Monday, August 21, 2017

The Night I Saw You

You didn't look like you, so I wasn't sure it was you when I walked in at nine and heard you there. But it had the feel and the solos were flowing and the tones were dry, yet warm and suitably spiky that I couldn't imagine this being anyone else, but you know who has the conviction took more than a few numbers. Heard you you play a couple of licks. At one point you looked at your watch and said, it's time but then monkey business. What a tease I thought but you played it and I liked the riff behind the rapture to give the song a tension I didn't remember. You also played the stuff I heard, remember I showed up? The cool thing is you played it like I shook your hand at the end of the night like you had saved the world. The encore was pretty and you know you almost didn;t play it Richard.

Tuesday, August 08, 2017

A funny American poet

Some people wouldn't agree that my poetry is lighthearted. Frank O'Hara once said, “I don't see why Kenneth likes John's work so much because he thinks everything should be funny and John's poetry is about as funny as a wrecked train.” In my life I am reasonably happy now. There are days when I think I am not, but I think there are probably more days when I think I am. I was impressed by an Ingmar Bergman movie I saw years ago—I can't remember the name of it—in which a woman tells the story of her life, which has been full of tragic experiences. She's telling the story in the dressing room of a theater where she is about to go on and perform in a ballet. At the end of it she says, “But I am happy.” Then it says, “The End.”

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Zebra Attraction

He broke six eggs breaking a leg fixing an omelet.