Monday, February 15, 2010

Dispatch from Hejinian

Dear Robert Adamson
we met at a dinner party at Clark Coolidge's house. Berrigan was doing his old trick 
with napkins and knives. I'd been reading what was to become known, among my friends
at least, as Mukluk poetry in a manifesto by some tall Canadian poet whose name
escapes me. I remember you were withdrawn and serious as black ice.

I'm writing to tell you that I've had it with this Red K fellow. His emails rattle into
my hard drive up to 50 times a day. I don't read them. I erase them as I would a glare
from a dying clown. Can you help me? After we'd spoken that night at Clark's,
you lightened up, and I seem to remember you saying something like "If Bunting were here..."
How can I put a stop to this sycophantic fool?  He is a nightmare.

Lyn Hejinian

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