I think of Whitman, Martin Luther King, the civil rights movement, the heady days of folk music as action, old Abe, troubadours like Dylan and others, of Miles and Trane, Pollock and the writers from the lonely cafe to Plath’s Bell jar, and the writer of the snow leopard , the Paris Review, the great […]
I was staying at the Adelaide hostel in Isadore Duncan Lane , San Francisco. A fellow I met there said, ‘ let’s have a drink down near the Tenderloin District, famous in the old days for its butcher ways. In a bar as dark as midnight the owner said, ‘go down to Green Street to […]
I have never felt more American than this moment. I am a 100 grasses growing. I’m tired of the American Mussolini. I worry for my friends who I know there. I think of my time spent at Big Sur and of my poet friend who took me to Carmel to see another poets house . […]
BillyPilgrim 