Santa Fe, Los Angeles, Big Sur, Santa Cruz
Today spent in the ol' city of cities, a majority of which at The SF International Poetry Festival at Civic Center with my lassies. And, and, and Lawrence Ferlinghetti, 93, read from his new "Time of Useful Consciousness." Then a woman we met at the literary labyrinth earlier ( I mentioned Hart Crane and she insisted I help heave her up onto a chair, where she spat out/recited "The Hive" by memory outward to the toothy city ) yelled that he should read out something from memory, and he did. What a grand ol' man.
"The Selected Poems of Federico Garcia Lorca"
Melville's "Moby Dick"
Henry Miller's "Tropic of Cancer"
Berryman's "Love & Fame"
Then Chinatown and ( delicious, all-you-can-eat ) mystery foods, SOMA drinks on someone else's expense account.
O, and So and So is planning a re-birth, and propping up a few of the "I'm sorry , about Baseball" poems in their next issue. I feel like the applause that erupts intermittently during this scene of Enter The Dragon: