NOTES

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Lyn Hejinian special issue of Aerial 10
Dick Cheney’s Heart, by Heather Fuller Edge Books
Letters Against The Firmanent, by Sean Bonney Enitharmon
Touché, by Rod Smith Wave Books
Primitive State, by Anselm Berrigan Edge Books
Loitering With Intent, by Muriel Spark this Bodley Head Edition long o.o.p
Crowded by Beauty: The Life And Zen Of Poet Philip Whalen, by David Schneider University of California
The Crossing, by Michael Connelly easy to find
Sonnets, by Ian Heames Face Press 2015
Average Cabin by Tom Raworth 250 copies, Face Press 2015
A Manual For Cleaning Women, by Lucia Berlin Various publishers, you’ll find it
For Face Press information it’s probably best to enquire of Ian Heames (ijaheamesATgmail.com)

Drummond Busch Hadley
May 28th 1938 (St.Louis County, Missouri) – November 26th 2015 (Cooperstown, New York)

I read through some old poems of Drum Hadley’s early this morning after getting the news of his death. News a little old as Drum died at Thanksgiving, but I’m out of range of the local news, most mutual friends are also dead and it was all long ago and far away. But New Mexico and Arizona light and scents flooded my memory and I was grateful to Ed Sanders for thinking to let me know. An aside in his message opened another memory door.

… we had just asked him possibly to help purchase Olson’s house at 28 Fort Square in Gloucester (it’s for sale, and will likely be torn down and gentrified).

So I was thinking of friends and death and money and progress and found this old Los Angeles Times piece in a rusty part of the web where links are corroded. I took a while to retrieve the parts and made a single pdf file hoping someone might ride by and look through the window. Goodbye Drum.

Here’s the poem from Ed’s message:

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Good luck in it!

Remembering our old, dear and missed friend Edward Merton Dorn; and thinking of Jenny.

Posted with Blogsy

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Photo by Daan van Golden.

“I had come across the cartonbox (which is delivered to the home of the bicycle buyer when ordered thru postal channels). I took it home and put it downstairs where the storing-spaces of this building’s inhabitants are situated; however the next day it was gone, somebody had taken it away, it was stolen. Damn I should have chained it to the wall or something. Never thought there were people in my building who would do such a thing. And if there were such people how come I hadn’t seen them coming in or also possibly going out the other way? Anyway I got over it and soon I found another cartonbox in another part of town and walked it home. I still had this huge chain from when I did the all night shift as a firewatch man in the harbour and also the big Russian lock from the market. I cut 2 holes in the carton, one hole thru the frame and the other hole thru the frontwheel. Now my velo cartonesque was safe and ready to go places.”

Harry notes about his video:

… just a show set out from my container in the harbour where I store all those things, I was trying to get an item on a television program run by those two guys asking me silly about the works, my intentions and how I got started and why work with found already existing material etceterara. Hadn’t slept the night before and it took a lot of work setting it all up. In the end the video was not used  but they gave me a copy of it.

A batch of the poems in Harry’s book noted below cover the period he lived in Ireland more than forty years ago. Here’s another gem from that time:

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Harry remarks now:

All of the books were returned to me a couple of months later, I had written a letter to the board; “Dear Sirs, I have read all those books you in yr infinite wisdom have confiscated and their content has become a part of my neurological well-being, are you gonna censure my brainwaves , my dreams?”

Fred Hampton & Mark Clark
Chicago December 4th.1969

I noted Harry’s recent book Come Again earlier this year
Here’s a short video of a show of his a couple of years ago.

For full-screen use YouTube link

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