Friday, October 21, 2005


A poem at Michael P. Steven's blog, which includes the photo below, has triggered a few memories.

James K Baxter, David Mitchell, Mark Young.
BOMB. A reading at the Barry Lett Galleries, August 1969.

High Country Weather

Alone we are born
And die alone
Yet see the red-gold cirrus
over snow-mountain shine.

Upon the upland road
Ride easy, stranger
Surrender to the sky
Your heart of anger.

James K. Baxter (1945)

from: Night Through the Orange Window

I remember her as a fifth season
who came unheralded
into those lean months
shaming the precise blue evenings
with the proud eternity of her flesh

David Mitchell (1963)

For Dave Mitchell
"th prfct wrdslngr"

Seeing your poems, your picture on the
blue middle pages of the NEW ARGOT
I wish I could be with you once more in
"th cafe lebanon". It is summer, & the
spare tables will have been unstacked
& set outside; & we could sit there
in our perfect white tropical suits,
sipping pernod, smoking panatellas
waiting for something GREAT to happen.

Mark Young (1973)
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Tom Beckett said...

What a great post.

Okir said...

you guys look a bit scary

Anonymous said...

I hope it triggered pleasant memories

mark young said...

The readings were great, Michael. Wonderful, even. But there was a lot of shit going on elsewhere at the time that I'm glad is left behind.