I wrote the poem around 1989, 90, 91. I'm not clear how the title related to the poem, but hey... Photo by JF, Nandaimon Gate, Nara, Japan, 1995.
Sunday, April 9, 2017
Since April, 1985 I have kept a sporadic, handwritten journal. The following is an lightly-edited entry selected from 24 March, 1995, as representative as any:
Got card from Gina from Taiwan today.
Went & saw Ann Charters at Powell's this evening who gave a rather interesting talk about Kerouac, visited him for two days & talked about how bloated he was, drinking Johnny Walker & beer, playing the piano at a bar, walking on the beach, supporting the Vietnam War, rude & anti-Semitic. How he was a writer, memorial park in Lowell, his mother making him chicken pies he didn't eat, asking Charters to fuck him. She didn't drink herself.
J. & S. were there.
Photo by me from February, 1986. I spent a fair amount of my youth in a house perched atop the hill on the left.