17 March 2005: Recently, Ryan Reeves (until then a stranger to me) sent me a very nice hand-made hardbound copy of five poems by the late, much-missed Cid Corman called . . .5 Poems. Ryan and his partner, Ethan Heicher, are responsible for a company called HULLpress. They distribute these books free to serious fans of their writers, so you might write HULLpress at 301 North Daniel Street, Springfield IL 62702, if you feel you qualify for a free copy.
HULLpress also has a website. You can go here to read all the poems in Corman's collection. They're lovely lyrical gnosticries. One's infraverbal:
To be
alive
at all
is a
mazing
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Speaking of infraverbality, I'm reminded that I just came across a 60's infraverbal pwoermd: "fuurther." It was spray-painted on the side of Ken Kesey's famous Merry Pranksters' bus, which I read about in a fascinating book on the history of LSD I'm reading, Storming Heaven. No, it doesn't mention me, although I was around at the time. I never became a druggie though I party-smoked a few reefers way back when. Nothing against druggies, serious or recreational, but except for aspirins--and now synthroid (because I am hypothyroidal)--I've been pretty clean, pharmaceutically, my whole life. Oh, beer, too, when I was younger, if you want to consider that a drug, because getting drunk was often almost as pleasant as having a hang-over was unpleasant, but not all that frequently--and I could never stand the taste of the stuff.
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