Below you will find a poem that Alice Notley sent to me a few years ago when I was in the process of gathering material for a new journal that never got past experimental stagings. For the moment, I'm too shattered to say anything more than to put these few momentoes together. One of the poets I've read my whole lifetime and who always surprised and often confused me and tested every known and unknown boundary (see poem below for instance). You have to hear one of her poetry recitals from the last few years to get the whole picture of how she bridged into shamanism and declaimed verses with true bardic intensity and bubbling cauldron of mind. In our correspondence we talked a lot about dreams, lucid dreams, premonitions and clairvoyance as poetic resource.
Many will miss her and my condolences to Anselm & Edmund Berrigan and the extended family.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alice_Notley
You are human Shat-
in-between bodies of tered Dawn
this life. All the files seem to be ruptured, good. The
light, magenta and yellow won't cohere I can't remember
. . . the name of what I was calling these almost unstable isles
previously, sometimes cubicles, floating but
there are no strict geometric forms, here in
reality. Or lines of swastikas or star shapes
are you washed in the blood enough yet. You great
big beautiful doll, faceless and free. Accusations tre
mble, maybe you face fuckup. In transition winds
where cubicle crumbles. I know some people are dying. I break off
pieces. The room doesn't have to beg you not to leave it expands to
be big enough for your souls expands within and keeps
'we want you to know us a going
gain' is being said. You nev
er know who you'll bump in
to the white doves coo and crows
caw soft as
ghost caws
calling me
I what you all
call here made. You defend it
beckoning beyond a medical report
with air. How because you like waking
are you Pretty. up, really. Another of lily
Words don't sti he said Lily died last night
ck together she be did he I didn't write it down
speaks somehow say I can touch your centur
ing. We can float. I once ies here in an instant
dreamed I flew with Uncle holding it's the holdin
Taylor high high above the earth g that makes us souls
higher than an airplane or any O you're a strange god
thing next to wispy clouds would I go there still into the
you like to see my heart? Is it beloved action. Have you
broken she says. It stopped bleed always? I don't know. I
ing. Be that I can carry and now I'm don't know if anything stops
Hold the holder the gravity that Human suffering, though, is
is known as the expanse of Death. only one example of the
I am carrying you to freedom cosmos. Everyone has al
Are you the old man? I am the good ways been free but a
The part they don't get, is how it is d fraid to choose freedom
on't understand. Because from I hold you free you keep
Point Zero there are no Ways. choosing the pressure of
Like music can be any way. I bodies. I chose as a human
know she says Keep me com to slip through the micro-hole
fortable. I'm trying. You'll ne into the other mode I am as
ver leave. I always come back. everywhere. It is a beautiful day
Where will your head be. I have in the lace. grace palace. Your
heads everywhere. And me? You'll face is pretty and shining again
sort of have them everywhere too. (real words)
-- Alice Notley
Here's Alice reading from the book she gave to me in Paris in 2017 (picture below)
https://alicenotley.bandcamp.com/album/alice-notley-live-in-seattle
This is a link to a whittled down version of the 2017 interview I did with Alice and which was produced by Marjorie Van Halteren.The longer discussion is worth hearing and I will try to post that as soon as I find it in my archives. But I think it's 3 hours!
https://exchange.prx.org/pieces/316593?m=false
"What we need to do is explain to people that difficulty isn’t difficult."
-- from the Paris Review interview 2024
https://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/8263/the-art-of-poetry-no-116-alice-notley
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| Photo by Marjorie Van Halteren |
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