NOTES

Further to the Lee Harwood posts here, here, here, and here.

A note fromThe British Library.

The first part of Ian Brinton’s memoir (second and then final parts linked from within).

Stephen Rodefer, poet and painter
Born Ohio, 1940 – died Paris, August 22nd 2015

Ever among the first to call and offer help.
I see you still in New Mexico light, then asleep on our Chicago couch
while Larry Goodell puts on his muscle suit, later in Cambridge in college gloom,
in Cork sitting on the steps of Shandon Tower in sunlight.
I remember the strangeness of your The Knife, lying on our table in London next to Richard Duernden’s The Fork.
That was fifty years ago.

I can only agree with you. Over there.

Luke Roberts was kind enough to forward me a couple of photographs from long-ago days in Cork.
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A note on Stephen’s funeral in Paris, September 2nd.2015

Pending actions

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Here is what the “creditors” plan for the Greek people. Airports have been sold off: gas pipelines, oil refineries, power, post office, national highways, water are next. There will be no democratic government control of national assets: in charge of everything will be managers appointed by creditors. Note the companies and investors involved, and the countries in which they are based.

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Sonnets. Another elegant small book from Ian Heames’ excellent Face Press.
Ponge, translated by Ian Brinton. Oystercatcher Press.
Radio Mast Horizon, by Andrew Taylor. Shearsman Books

Come Again, by Harry Hoogstraten is now available from Barncott Press.

More than 100 people of all ages, many local, some down from London, others from even further away, crushed into the Dome Room at Brighton’s Hotel du Vin to Celebrate Lee’s life and work.

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A few photos of the street outside are here.

Here’s Lee‘s obituary from our local newspaper The Argus

The people in the photograph are Richard Cupidi, Lee, Allen Ginsberg and (so the text informs, Peter Orlovsky — though in a manifestation I never saw, looking like a cross between Jeff Nuttall and Eric Mottram).

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They are outside Cupidi‘s Public House Bookshop (closed 1999).

As I remember, Lee came originally to Brighton to work in Bill Butler‘s Unicorn Books 1967/68, maybe.

Having had my head stuck in my own world for many months, it was a sad surprise to find — as I went to write an email to enquire how he was — that Allan Kornblum died last November: my tardy condolences to his family.

This is Allan as I remember meeting him out in Iowa City in 1970/71.

Photo © Morty Sklar

Behind him sits Darrell Gray. Allan was editing and printing Toothpaste magazine. That segued into Toothpaste Press, and eventually along with a move to Minneapolis became Coffee House Press. Those Iowa City days also spawned Actualism.
Dave Morice has some memories of that time and place and his own (probably the first of that genre)Poetry Comics are still sharp in my mind.
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The Third Policeman, by Flann O’Brien Harper Perennial
Toward Blue Peninsular, by Ed Barrett Pressed Wafer
Three Clicks Left, by Katerina Gogou (translated by Jack Hirschman) Night Horn Books, S.F., long o.o.p.

Peter Robinson’s obituary of Lee in The Guardian

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? Amy Winehouse Lioness: Hidden Treasures
I Zoi Mas Einai Sougiades Katerina Gogou Sto Dromo
Breakout Steve Noble, Billy Jenkins & Roberto Bellatalla Tumble Shakedown Trios Vol. 2
No Dark There Wingless Angels Wingless Angels
Empire Of The Senseless The Mekons The Mekons Rock N’ Roll
How Deep is Your Love Billy Jenkins True Love Collection
Not with a Lover’s Lyre / Anna Akhmatova’s Recitation of “The Muse” Iris DeMent The Trackless Woods

Direct download elastin.mp3

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Another word I’ve never used before.

Remembering Anne-Marie Albiach, on her birthday.

A while ago I included David Benedetti’s latest book here, amongst others; but at that time there was no simple way to get it. It’s now up on both Amazon USA and Amazon UK. Regularly browsing this book has given me more pleasure than anything else these past weeks : catnip for the literate.

I welcome Mr.Abdul Rahman Haroun to this country. To have made his way from the Sudan and then walked the final 31 miles underground from France shows a courage and tenacity not found in the blobs of the political class who will decide his fate. I wish him well in this earthly paradise.

Particularly today one is reminded that the United States is the only country to have actually USED nuclear weapons; twice : and in one case against a completely civilian population in a city of no military significance.

All that one’s head can see from so far up one’s own arse.

Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darüber muss man schweigen

What is unspeakable, must remain Soylent.

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A lung infection has kept me inactive for some days. This morning feels easier, but sleep past 4 a.m. is still impossible, so after a quick search online to see which if any of our newspapers of record had deigned to notice Lee Harwood’s death ten days after the event; none, I made coffee and drank it in the dawn light while reading (with pleasure) first
(trigger warning: contain thoughts, ideas and opinions of someone else):
The Dream-God, by John Cuningham 1873
and then
Night Work
(the latter via the excellent Futility Closet).
Now sunlight is passing through the coleus and hot pepper leaves behind me and I’m happy to have spent some time in the OED with fane and murex.