Category Archives: Literary

Gloucester / Kalamazoo postscript

Posted on May 14, 2014 by dhadbawnik

Drove around the corner to Forest Automotive this morning to drop off the car for routine service, saw this scrawled on the chalkboard next to the front desk: Asked the mechanic about it — he said his father really likes … Continue reading →

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Interview at Lana Turner Journal

Posted on May 6, 2014 by dhadbawnik

Kent Johnson interviewed me recently for Lana Turner Journal. We talk about my ongoing translation of the Aeneid, translation in general, Jack Spicer, Field Work, Ovid in Exile, Diane di Prima, the San Francisco poetry scene, and a lot more. … Continue reading →

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Poets’ Graves

Posted on May 3, 2014 by dhadbawnik

Last weekend, on a visit to Gloucester with Rich Owens and Boyd Nielson, we stopped to visit the grave of Charles Olson. It always feels somewhat macabre and fetishistic to do stuff like this. Yet we also felt compelled to … Continue reading →

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Spring

Posted on April 30, 2014 by dhadbawnik

Morning coffee cooling, the language just out of reach. Harsh slashes on wind, on water, loves caught up in old songs, gone to seed. Yet we hear them coming again, stirring in groin, oh no oh yes — it’s spring … Continue reading →

Posted in Literary, National Poetry Month, Poetry | Tagged , | 1 Comment

Sentence

Posted on April 29, 2014 by dhadbawnik

Just because we don’t think about the sentence doesn’t mean we don’t think about it. The sentence works on us in our sleep. A voice calls from the balcony jarring the dark and the audience holds its breath, waiting. We … Continue reading →

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Jack Spicer Talk / Reading in Boston

Posted on April 28, 2014 by dhadbawnik

What a wonderful, stimulating, exhausting weekend. Lots of great talk about Jack Spicer with Dan Remein, getting to see Robert Stanton and Dianne Berg and John Wagner, meeting and hanging out with Boyd Nielson, seeing Rich Owens again, driving out … Continue reading →

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Plane

Posted on April 27, 2014 by dhadbawnik

for Rich In opposite fierceness, the backbone holds what according to what? Tenses imperfect, bodies nudged out of mind. Once you have a place you must strain to hold it. Fist closed / first class window seat on paper airplane. … Continue reading →

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