One evening, when nothing was planned — often the best way to spend a late summer
evening — and Susan was down with a bug & fever, so I read awhile up in the bedroom with
her, by the large windows looking to the river, reading by the tail end of the daylight until
there was no light and Susan had fallen asleep and I kept on reading this large and beautiful
book, heavy on the lap, with its deep showcase of the New York School of Poets, both
generations, meaning Ashbury, O'Hara and Koch to Berrigan and them all, and while reading
I just happened to type in wanting to find on the Internet Aram Saroyan's two early books
of poems from Random House via a put-down newsman reading the poems on a major network at the time and although I couldn't find the reading I found Aram Saroyan, in bad lighting, and all the
more interesting because of his intriguing storytelling of the same time I was reading about
in this large art book and I recommend everyone listening to Aram talking, reading his poems,
laughing softly and recalling and actually hearing him read his own one word gems and later
fielding questions from a friendly room.
[ BA ]
