I’ve been reading all your posts about this event as it approached with close interest, and now to see the store and the participants and the goings-on in your beautiful photographs is a further addition. I wish I could have been there. Attending just wasn’t possible for me—I’m tied down a bit by busyness, including things surrounding my own forthcoming book, and I’m not driving as yet…who knows if I’ll ever feel like I should again…because of this loss of sight in my left eye three years ago. I’m told I can still drive, I have friends who came out of the woodwork with admissions they’re blind in one eye, one of them has been since university age (! – at my age, that means he’s been blind in one eye for more that fifty years without my ever suspecting it!), but I just don’t feel secure or confident about trying it yet.
Anyway. Thanks for the brilliant package of books you sent me. You’re a marvel, as are your selections and your productions. I’m making my way through them slowly—reading time is limited—but enjoying and profiting fully. I’ll say something more substantial I hope in the not too distant. It was a great day when your pacakge arrived about two weeks ago. So far, the pieces I’m engaging with are your She—great and somewhat surprising! A nearly minimalist poetics, a collagist poetics, brat Poundian, but of course my ears pricked up even farther perhaps than in the rest of the book for “Last Licks”, with the epigraph from Paz, one of the saints of my devotion, and I really enjoyed the way the near-minimalism of the book was forged by you into a sort of mini-epic with both minimalism—the clean, tiny, imagist-like and haiku-like stanzas—and broad prospect and conspectus—the whole the stanzas mosaic together. Maybe because of She, the other two I’ve picked out to read some of by now are Ruin and Rainy Day. “Unhomesickness” is not entirely unlike “Last Licks” yet very different too, with its much greater and straighter-ahead narrative connectivity, whereas your poem does so much with quick and far connections, incuding in levels and sources of diction, not just images, subjects, etc.
Well, basta!…per ora, anyhow. Ok, ci sentiamo più tardi. Be well, my friend.
Knife Fork Book
Knife Fork Book 
2 replies on “Days like these”
Hey Kirby!
I’ve been reading all your posts about this event as it approached with close interest, and now to see the store and the participants and the goings-on in your beautiful photographs is a further addition. I wish I could have been there. Attending just wasn’t possible for me—I’m tied down a bit by busyness, including things surrounding my own forthcoming book, and I’m not driving as yet…who knows if I’ll ever feel like I should again…because of this loss of sight in my left eye three years ago. I’m told I can still drive, I have friends who came out of the woodwork with admissions they’re blind in one eye, one of them has been since university age (! – at my age, that means he’s been blind in one eye for more that fifty years without my ever suspecting it!), but I just don’t feel secure or confident about trying it yet.
Anyway. Thanks for the brilliant package of books you sent me. You’re a marvel, as are your selections and your productions. I’m making my way through them slowly—reading time is limited—but enjoying and profiting fully. I’ll say something more substantial I hope in the not too distant. It was a great day when your pacakge arrived about two weeks ago. So far, the pieces I’m engaging with are your She—great and somewhat surprising! A nearly minimalist poetics, a collagist poetics, brat Poundian, but of course my ears pricked up even farther perhaps than in the rest of the book for “Last Licks”, with the epigraph from Paz, one of the saints of my devotion, and I really enjoyed the way the near-minimalism of the book was forged by you into a sort of mini-epic with both minimalism—the clean, tiny, imagist-like and haiku-like stanzas—and broad prospect and conspectus—the whole the stanzas mosaic together. Maybe because of She, the other two I’ve picked out to read some of by now are Ruin and Rainy Day. “Unhomesickness” is not entirely unlike “Last Licks” yet very different too, with its much greater and straighter-ahead narrative connectivity, whereas your poem does so much with quick and far connections, incuding in levels and sources of diction, not just images, subjects, etc.
Well, basta!…per ora, anyhow. Ok, ci sentiamo più tardi. Be well, my friend.
Al
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