Elinor Nauen

Ed Sanders, with Steven Taylor, closed out the fantastic 3rd season of the Bowery Poetry Club Tuesday series, organized by Bob Rosenthal & Ed Friedman. It felt historic to be there, like seeing Bruce Springsteen at the Bottom Line (as Johnny did). Ed said that except for a group reading in June for Allen Ginsberg's 100th birthday, this would be his last-ever reading. He's 86 but still plenty of fire. He read, he sang, he exorcized ICE. Impressive that he's not interested in being impressed by himself. Still learning, still having heroes, but also matter-of-fact about his accomplishments. A pure being. Zen without Zen. He's there. He's only himself. I will keep trying to say why it was so thrilling to be there. 

Entirely back, having gone to 3 poetry events since Wednesday: a wonderful reading by Maureen Owen & Susie Timmons, a memorial for poet & teacher Bernadette Mayer, & a another memorial for poet & publisher Bob Hershon.

The one for Bernadette went on nonstop for 3 and 1/2 hours, but was totally worth it for the very last performer, the formidable 83-year-old Ed Sanders, who sang, heartbreakingly, "How Sweet I Roamed from Field to Field," a Blake poem, and Tuli's beautiful "Morning, Morning," getting stronger as he got through them. No ego, he gave us the songs & stepped off. 

The event honoring Bob was briefer, & was more for the new issue of Hanging Loose & his last book, Unveiling, with wonderful art by his daughter, Lizzie. I read a couple of his poems, including his wonderful "Derek Jeter," where he names me to be his baseball executor & telepathically tell him what's going on. I gave a copy of that poem to Jeter & he signed the book, when I was introduced by mutual friends. I don't know if he read it.