So I saw some poets read today. One was Michael Casey
reading poems about his tour in Vietnam.
Another was Paul Mariani who has a chair in poetry at Boston
College and writes a kind of Catholic word and way.
I have a chair in poetry as well; it looks out upon the
river, and from there I feel these poets were fortuitous for me to see and
hear today.
I went to Boston College too which meant I was deferred from
fighting in that war. And then I got the lucky number 2-0-4 selected in the lottery
which meant I could quit college finally; I didn't need it
anymore. And by that time I’d forgot all other rationale for my attendance.
I talked to Casey after, had him sign his book I bought in
1972. He asked, was I a vet; I told him no but I had fought the good fight back
at home.
No one my age got away from Vietnam. It either killed you or it
detoured you from original intent, much like life itself one would suppose.
I went to school a few years later, got a liberal arts
degree at Merrimack. Maybe if I'd finished Boston College, I'd've been a more fortunate son.
Now, the only thing I'm here for is to write unlettered poetry. So you can thank the war on what you had to hear from me
tonight.
It's even making you less knowledgeable in this moment, or so I hope to figure, ain't I right?
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