Sunday, September 20, 2020




[GOING NOWHERE] ’s all here
in the sun —side-door open & radio on
endless Sunday-morning reggae (1965 London
Blue Beat memories —“Little Millie’s nothing”
hustler David teaching me —swore by Prince Buster &
Derek Morgan —got me listening to the brass —but who was
David’s big man? somebody Randolph? Rudolph someone? —
‘ts’all there in first ‘novel’ ’s (lost?) hand-written pages —hah!
(the take-away coffee’s 4 Beans Cafe —250 metres
up road past the Church —same two women of the probably
every day drinking their’s & chatting sat on low church-wall
hidden from lockdown’s spies’ eyes in Walker Street’s
cul-de-sac —coffee’s endless —like James Ellis’s
endless song of endless country road whose
You Tube clip Cathy’s sent me from Laos —
Dunhill-backy chewin’ Camp-kawfee drinkin’ spice
of life in his country voice —(The Lockdown’s
like 30s 40s 50s black & white pics
of headscarfed women chin-wagging in the sun —
Aunt Lydia in Lyons par example —early ‘60s snap —
her host one-armed mosaic-artist whose daughter
came next summer to England providing Aunt Lydia
match-making opportunity —nephew (moi!)
& dark-haired dark-eyed French beauty —
chaste kiss on cheek Aunt admonished me —
the French way (dry) —“nothing dirty” —
Uncle Jim picked us up from our film date—
kept eye on us in the driver’s mirror —
“should’ve seen ‘em!” reported to Aunt Lydia —
Astrid insisted love —pressed kisses on me in the cinema —
called me my middle name ’Alan’ instead of ‘Christopher’ —
(Aunty Lod prepared Greek coffee for herself —the Camp
for Uncle Jim —before Nescafe arrived on the shelf —
long time ago —had his own teeth then
or kept the false set in (mosquitos in
the backyard now —time to go inside —
small dragonfly settles on half house-brick
(having lost the knack of literary construction
or temporarily cancelled it —the higher cadence
or tra-la-la once called it —abandoned for common
speech —thinking aloud = talking —Geraldine’s
exasperation at the style of my contribution
for her British anthology —“as tho just sat down
& wrote it?” (Denis offers ‘fortitude’ in his daily
Chinese calligraphy —i interpolate ‘in lieu
of the rhyme & rhythm of the time of plenty’
yet we all ameliorate —finding on-high’s
elegance via charitable chat (hah! perhaps that’s
what Eshleman meant by ‘gravelly’ as tho as poet
didnt indulge similar familiarity —‘gravelly’ his
editorial castigation ca 1970 of poems i sent him
hoping i’d get into Caterpillar magazine —ah! —
and that’s OK! or now it is!
fifty years down the old track
fifty years if it’s a day!


richard lopez said...

welcome back, kris! i've missed you!

Edward Mycue said...

Love the post. That ton of clay had his day and it's in the dump now. You are here reigning.
Edward Mycue 21 Oct 2020

Unknown said...

Kris! Rob Finlayson here in Indonesia. Had been thinking of you and then read that CW had closed. Would love to chat again: