My primary poetic inspiration / guru has died, one month short of his 102nd birthday. You can/should read his full obituary HERE. You’ll note that he was far more than merely a great writer, and that the planet has suffered a tremendous loss, humanitarian-wise.
Lawrence Ferlinghetti is the reason I started writing over a half-century ago.
About 7 tears ago, the (now-defunct0 online journal Clapboard House published my poem entitled “Grace” in which I enumerated all the many things I’m thankful for. (If interested, you can read it HERE). It concludes:
Thanks for the moon reflected in windshield
raindrops, and for midnight mushrooms,
Day-Glo under blacklight, mescaline boogie,
acid rock, and acid. But mostly thank you
for ’68: Danny Riley and his floral necktie
finishing up his student teaching,
smiling and handing me books, saying
Oh man, you should read some Ginsberg, or
Brautigan, maybe. No; here, I got it.
for you, Ferlinghetti.
Next month Jambu Press will be releasing a Ferlinghetti Tribute anthology that’s been in the works for quite a while now, and I’m greatly honored that one of my poems (“Candy”) was selected for inclusion. I‘ll fill you in on all of that later.
Meanwhile, I’m going to go re-read A Coney Island of the Mind for about the millionth time.