Saturday, July 7, 2012
Given to me by Matvei Yankelevich. Another beautiful UDP book, translated by my old friend, Genya Turovskaya.
I met Genya at a party in NYC back in the mid-nineties. About a month later I bumped into her at the corner of Avenue and, I think, 6th, across from Benny's Burritos. We ended up standing on the corner talking for more than hour before deciding to get a bite to eat 7A, where I think we talked for a couple of more hours, mostly about poetry and what we liked to read especially movie, which we both had very strong opinions about. We both smoked a lot. Or at least I did. I think she did, too. Ah, to have three hours to talk to a random person you meet on a street corner. Those were the days!
On a side note, it is strange being on the east coast again. We have had a lot of visitors lately and I have been running into all kinds of people I haven't seen in years. Buffalo was just far enough from all of my old friends that it made visiting difficult, so we rarely saw them unless we traveled ourselves. Now that we are a quick train ride from NYC, it seems like family and old friends are suddenly much closer. Which is a good thing, I think, as what we miss most about Buffalo is our friends there. Being able to connect easily with people we know, though no substitute for our Buffalo chums, at least makes the transition less painful.
I ran into my old friend S. at a 4th of July party this week. We were very close in college and for five or so years afterward, but we drifted apart after I moved to Buffalo and I probably hadn't spoken to him in ten years prior to unexpectedly running into him Wednesday. It was great so see him.
It was a lovely party, thrown by the parents of A., another college friend, who have a waterfront home in Madison, CT. Everyone at and talked in the afternoon and then sat on the porch and watched the fireworks shoot up over the Sound in the evening. And there was a rainbow in the afternoon and blood red moon that rose out of the ocean in the evening and just after the fireworks ended a storm rolled in and drenched us all.
from Red Shifting
from The Large Glass
hieroglyph of breathing
three or four inches from the groin
to specify is to ruin poetry
to kill the tongue in order to touch life
image of the red slaughter
arterial and venous blood
it's necessary that I fall
there is no mouth no teeth=
it's time to finish with masterpieces
the scream will complete the rest