Hey guys 'n gals--Cid used to print 300 copies--sometimes less--of
Origin--and did great things for lots of poets via the international
mails. He never asked for anyone to do anything but send him money, and
was even loathe to do that.
When I knew "El Cid" he taped his glasses together and walked the
streets of Kyoto in shoes with holes in them. People continued to write
to him and not even include return postage. He was very happy when they
did. He died penniless. His ashes are still not buried, but sit on
his widow's coffee table.
Cid's great friend and teacher William Carlos Williams said it best:
"Poets are cheap sons of bitches."
Cid sent the tiny checks he received from New Directions to Bob Arnold
and other poets he felt were in need, because it cost more to cash the
damned things in Japan than most of them were worth. The folks at New
Directions never understood this fact and continued not to pay Cid for
his work.
Because Cid didn't have any money his funeral was held in the
sub-basement of an undertaking concern with a cheap tape of Pachabel's
Canon playing over and over. There were only a few mourners. I was one
of them.
"Poets are cheap sons of bitches."
"Poets are cheap sons of bitches."
The poets we publish at ahadada books are asked to help because I don't
want to end up with holes in my shoes and my glasses taped together.
Ben Franklin said "Fools give feasts and wise men eat them"--not one
of you is wiser than I am.
"Poets are cheap sons of bitches"
"Poets are cheap sons of bitches."
Of course, none of this is directed at any of you.
Eyelash in Gaza and Tickety-Boo
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