I need sleep.
Will write on some things—some disagreements—Sunday.
Why did I think yd get mad abt Horse on Fire? Oh hell, I figured you’re the type hoo gets mad easy. I am the other way: my hair will not curl although I may pull up lame.
luf,
Buk
[note dated 7 January 1961 by SM]
[CB received a postcard from SM quoting Lord Beaconsfield,
then appended a reply below it and sent it back:]
Said Lord Beaconsfield, “the man who does not LOOK UP will look down (as our dear Mr. Bukowski) and the spirit that does not dare to soar is destined perhaps to grovel…” Sheri
all right, let me grovel,
god damn it, what do u want
a holy roller? what’s comin’
my way is comin’ my way and my
values are my own. Beaconsfield was a Lord,
and guess he felt pretty good most of the time,
and suppose he considered himself a “look-upper”
and wanted us to know it. Bravo!
and love,
Buk
1-9-61
[postcard]
Dear Sheri:
Let us not “look up” but keep our eyes level with the universe lest we become run over in body and psyche crossing the ordinary streets of our days.
The difference between a pose and an action is the electric quality of force that gives us the nerve to enter hell and heaven alike.
Your Pound toiling in the immortal light still found time to become Fascisti’ and enter earthly squabbles, and as Shermans and Ginsburgs take the bait, we who find little to elevate in our residue, continue to shape and sound the word…as clean as anybody’s flag.
Charles Bukowski
1-9-61 [postcard]
Sheri:
Oh, I know Pan is a deity!
Why must you be such a schoolteacher with me? Bastinado!
Pax vobiscum.
Buk
L.A. Monday, Jan. 9, 1961
Dear Sheri:
It appears I missed one or two of your questions in yesterday’s letter. About the Webb-thing. This young man wrote into Webb blasting him for printing “names”, and that it wouldn’t cost W. a dollar a copy to print Outsider if he used platinum plates. The young man claimed to be a printer. He told Webb he should be ashamed to show his face in the streets. And that Webb didn’t have any talent and that the reason he was printing the magazine was so that he could be close to the big names.
Well, Webb came to me right away, enclosing the letter. I guess he wanted solace and it was flattering that he came to Buk for salve for his wounds. Well, it was a tough one to handle. Buk does not lie. He got drunk for 4 days.
It is true that Webb was, at the start, fascinated by names. This was a new thing for him, buying the press, type, corresponding, rejecting and accepting manus. He was caught in a trap of new enthusiasm. He has since written me that many of those he accepted at first do not read so well to him now, and in his “awakening awareness” he is going to be much more careful in his selections. Many of the Grove Press poets he no longer holds in awe, and several others. It is possible that many “names” dumped some 2nd. rate stuff on Webb.
All that I could write Webb was that the main thing was to print the good poem, and if that good poem had a name attached to it, all right. It is better than printing unknown mediocrity. And that the young man’s inferring that he (Webb) had no talent was unkind and could possibly be untrue. And that considering the time and effort involved, all the type-sticking, cost of paper, type and ink, correspondence and reading of submissions, advertising and publicity, the cost was well over a dollar a copy. And that it would be all right for Webb to show his face in the streets.
I don’t know why in the hell I had to get involved.
Yes, the young man is probably “dedicated”, but I think it would be more important for him to dedicate himself to the poem and to get off the soap-box.
Why shouldn’t Webb print his son, you ask?
Well, Sheri, it’s like a man giving his son a new Cadillac when he is 9 years old and cannot yet see over the windshield.
Let Webb Jr. get on his bicycle first and make his OWN way down the street. It will make a better man of him.
Lob,
Buk
11/jan/61 sm pobx 46 san gregorio/calif/
buk my dear/ i agree with you letters do “drain”—I use them to “record” things that one cant record any other place—but even my energy is beginning to tire of the work/ rec. yr targets & are in mail/
no “Pound yr man”—he was my teacher—one was educated by him…any other relationship’s non-transferable/
All right will read yr Jeffers as ORDERED…no not really “mad” about Horse on Fire…if one took you to task about it in A & P—pray don’t mind that—it’d ruin you if Martinelli praised you—
Webb sound’d sincere but ignorant/ newspaper mind-state—miller (henwry) & so forth
the altar has gone still & one is in here doing that A & P now finished all but for a few half paragraphs to ‘fill in’ with small talk that is nevertheless part of fun/
I sent yr Target with the signature alone / to Laughlin that one met at St. Liz / I think you are among the best here—although I lament some details in you /
I am very disappointed with Ernie’s letters—what a contrast to yrs—it does hurt me & I cannot write him / not really / he hath desire to impress…whereas yrs are filled with sincerity in confucian sense…not the christian “let us confess” sort/ Po Li enjoys you…he is one of yr most devoted admirers/
Hokusai at 90 still hoping for time to work so he cd do his best work & Ez saying that it took 75 years to locate the Coke books/ & right now I am thinking that if I live to be 110 I still wont have time to do everything that has been started/ yes OREGANO is a fine herb…never used it in eggs before but will & of course got some/ right now am making a perfume of herbs…will send you down some when finished…as will be more a temple essence than a perfume…
yr foreigners sound right fine / no Sherman aint “one of my camp” dear Buk/ he was a soul in hell & I saw his good qualities…& that he was in the dark & he always was of good will & manners toward me…more than I can say about the rest of them in Frisco—I am glad he’s working on the Examiner as it is the better blatt in frisco—& has the excellent Mike Grieg & Chas. Einstein on it/ doubt if Jory’ll “own it in 10 years” or even 10,000 / and as for Wang/ one has known him so long & so well as a person…but I left it all behind me long ago…when I left Frisco…they run in a circle…Buk & one was left out…& too lonely…long’s I was going to be that lonesome…I might as well be down here…alone totally all day/
Ernie will forever be blessed for the few good things he did me & I doubt if it breaks a “tenet” of Ezra’s—Buk…I don’t really think anything matters much today…what will it mean in 2000 years…
Ernie moved me to keep working & I was too sad—one is a playful & happy thing & Frisco was dark & sad…there is nothing to do in Frisco but use a narcotica of some sort…I shook the dust of Frisco offf ffff my feet…
I’d like so much to see Europe & I realise I got a lottt of provincial in me that must be done away with before the gods will grace me with a vision of Europe/
I don’t think it hurt Ernie to get him off that damned abstract stuff…onto the classics…of course he is not Ezra—but he did do some good/ nevertheless I am glad to be alone…I must finish these jobs begun/
Gib’s strength is Chinese patience & Gib’s the best really/ he does dig yr prose style in the letters/ you knock him out…he makes me read every word outloud…to him/ Ernie bores him—although he knows how Ernie fit in when he did fit in/ Ezra did not take me to Italy because I married Po Li/
Oh Payne is so local a chap but he’s doing good in a bad world I suppose
By “late Victorian” I mean—not yr style nor manners nor ideals…but where yr mind is focused/ upon the tor
ment of life & the hell each person is in/ tho “mid Victorian” still is not the correct label…no…
[illegible]ng passed if it is a male or female…just so it is an intelligence…[illegible] earth…
no my dear Buk/ not trying to “educate the masses”…“raising the general cultural level” is not “educating the masses”—Yes—the Jews & yes the Negroes…
“I suffered from something else…”
me too / it was not until one met Ez that one discovered a person suffering from the same thing/ which is why I prefer him to any other—he’d gone after the remedy for what we alone suffer…
No darling Ernie is NOT der son of Gott—’s all right/ he merely did what no one else had done…and he was very nice about it/ Gib’s moststrong…don’t worry & Ernie is already starched up/ IF one cd only get him off that abstract shit that he takes refuge in rather than think straight…no matter…today everything seems hopeless…& useless…one will go take a sun bath on the point & leave it all behind one…
ALL right soon’s I get near a library I will read that book…but I do believe I read it at Tommy Yee’s & didn’t like it then but I was not entirely whole at the time…will read it Buk you…wotever…yes I will.
Sent Ez yr Signature/ & trust he will enjoy…now my lamb I will go take a sun bath as I said…it all seems silly & futile today…
and love…
Sheri &
Po’ Li
The horse article was entertaining…will send on to Ez—
13/fri/jan/61 sm pobx 46 san gregorio calif/
Buk! an old letter never mailed! read ’n forget
I guess you sd Ez wuz a dear Granite haid/ wotever on a post card/ anyhow I donno wot it means but luv—Shed
one sent you that “look up” because you do persist in mailing po.cds. when all in this town of 250 souls read my mail/ dotz vy & dotz ALL one meant…& Buk/ really! I may be a “woman” but I yam still a Lady/ now listen you HardHead/ the same thing wrong with yr post card is wot’s wrong with yr poetry…You presume/ newspaper myths are not valid/
One will NOT discuss the Germanl/Jew burning situation with any German OR Jew who was not on the premises at the time/ only they qualify to speak/ you have not spoken to Ezra & you don’t qualify to say whether he “became Fascisti” nor have you any idea wot it means/ you were not there at the time/ You fly to conclusions/
Ezra Pound was reading Confucius & good government at the precise time that the leaders of the country he’d lived in for 20 years became interested/ it was most noble & natural for the old gent to speak up/ If you want to call him a “fascisti” do go right ahead/ worse men than you have said it/
If you think that all a poet must do on earth is fuck women & then squeal in his poetry on their most secret conversations & call it art…or drink himself to death…then you think that…I KNOW different/ I don’t give a hoot in hell wot the monkey minds say/ you are not yet a poet & if you dare sit on that soft pillow & belch & fart away…you’ll lose yr soul/
The difference between a pose & an action is that one poet poses as a poet & the other poet takes action as a man/ no matter wot his profession he is still a man & his conduct will be judged as manly or dogly/ Jory Sherman don’t count & he never will/ Allen Ginsberg counts on 2 scores/ or points: 1/ his inborn love & tenderness no matter what the Party sez/ 2/ his bravery & nobility in doing wot th’ pawrty sez/which is more than I got in my camp/ no men…just dithering blathering shells of their former shells/
You do not know the history of poetry nor understand its basic necessity in our kind/ we are poets for the same reason the Jews are ‘comedians’ because Bob Hope can rise & say in a joke what he’d never dare say as a man…that don’t mean Old Hawkmouth & SkiJumpNose aint a man/ but his role here is as a comic/
your verse is still “christian” in that you are confessing in public…and most ignobly/ you spill the beans on every female that trusted you…how can you dignify yr position as a poet? If you belonged to Capone’s mob & pulled that stuff man he’d have you washed away…shd I be less a mobster than Capone? I don’t like those public confessions of yrs on who fkd who that you believe is a poem…
Bukowski it is time you became a MAN…then write poetry goddammit/
Allen Ginsberg is more of a man right at this moment on earth…than any white christer walkin’/sittin’/standin’/layin’ or dead except Ezra Pound/ Po Li don’t get included in the christer dept. as he’s a Confucian by birth & breed/
Also Allen make a general protest & howl in hell…whereas you write against those women you held in love’s embrace & I downgrade you for it & so wd Ez & any person who knew love/ it is pppppppppppIGnobility to ‘squeal’ but of course who you are squealin’ on & into whose hands you deliver them& is really the crime/
Now do stop it & get down to business & forget what the gang tells you…be serious Bukowski—it is a time for serious people/ the women of this land are more awake & serious than the men/ oh I cant finish this…I’m back at work painting…it is very easy…just lay out the stuff & paint as you go by…like one does everything else…as one thinks of it or sees it/ please do not write post cards bukowski—the only way one can do all this work is not being any sort of “celebrity” or woteverhellspelled/ love to you even tho’ I doubt if you know wot it means…
Sheri
Jan what? 13, 1961
Shed, hello:
I ran off rail with card. Do not cease correspondence. It is that sometimes in a flux of nerves I get the sensation of cracking leaves under my feet. It is nothing.
Rec’vd your side of house and cat and shirttail thing. You have a good face, and I envy you your dry mess of plant-vine thing crawling along side of house. It is good to look into such a net and smoke a cigarette in the sun.
Yes, you’re right, Pound is my man. Jeffers. Conrad Aiken.
I have not read Jeffers for years. Oh, I did the other day. Came across a pome of his in some type of pocketbook anthology of modem verse. He appeared, in this poem, to be playing strongman. We can’t play at being strongman. We must simply be. This is basic, a grammar of the psyche, and I do not mean to go through it. We can damn well play but we mustn’t pose. It’s all in words and we are throwing paint, and sometimes it becomes a mess, and when we get a name and begin to write UNDER that name, we begin to fall down through. Pound has not weakened. There are so few men I can say this of.
Oye, Shed, it’s ok to curl mine hair in A and P; I do not take to any praise with too much pleasure. If you would attempt to place a cookie in my mouth it would do me in.
Yes, you have Webb down right. He is trying, and he does not PUT ON too much. In a letter or two I have from him, he uses words like “shit” and “fuck” and “god damn”, which, of course, shows he is trying too hard not to PUT ON, which in a sense, is the same thing. More basics that you already know as I can see from your good face in the photo. You are one of the few women since Sappho who has given us light.
Be careful with the LEAF OREGANO in your eggs. It takes very little and too much can become musky and make you ill for days; it can be like falling into a stinking swamp. I have learned just what to pinch in with my fingers, and of course, each day we feel a little different, and the difference that you need, more than yesterday or less, you move in with your fingers and then everything’s ok. And I like my coffee as hot as it can get: this brings the mind and the body together. If I eat outside and get a warm cup of coffee, bath-water warm, the meal is wasted.
It is difficult for me to write Sherman. And yet his letters are flip and bright in a sense, and full of viv. And let me tell you something about Jory, since I’ve knocked him now and then (I suppose I have; I think one of yr letters gave me this feeling—and I think there is a poem of mine about Jory to be published somewhere),J. does NOT TALK OUT OF SCHOOL about vitals. At least, what he THINKS are vitals. And, his vitals are not always mine. But there is a certain sense of honor in him, although that is not quite the word. There I have almost s
aid something good about J.
Returning the Fastest Insight Alive. Not much there for me.
Although I must confess that I actually do subscribe to the Kenyon Review. I don’t know why, but most of the articles fill me, not in a sense of information, but rather in their offhand desperate objective gallantry like a horse trying to run around a barn and not catch on fire. The poetry, of course, is dead, completely dead, even the best of it. I suppose the S[outhem]. Review and K[enyon]. Review printed a little D. Thomas; I think I remember reading a little of it in a Phila. library, but you know D. was only good when he was good because he took the language and ran it through his personal mould, not caring how it came out, as long as the sound of it made a line across paper. But I sensed, that going on with it, he became weak, writing UNDER his name; but he was smart enough to keep drinking because he sensed that that would keep them from swallowing him completely up…He swallowed himself up, rather, and that was the end.
Yes, my foreigners are good for me. They are so simple, so simple and good. It is not in my presence to snoop. But my third floor window looks down upon them, and I am glad it does. The girl, the girl she is beautiful and she does not know it, yet, but someday a young half-bull with shiny shoes will mew and slobber over her and she will be done. A girl like that needs a bull. To keep her simple and never let her know.
They still have their xmas tree up. Last year it was Feb. before they threw it out, and I too was sad when I saw it by the trash can, the dead branches and tinfoil in the sick Hollywood sun. They need an altar but do not know it.
…LOOK, we can’t WORRY BOUT what it will MATTER in 2 thousand years just because we’re going to have to sack out. Today is important because today is 2 thousand years from now. Right now. And 2 thousand years from now will be today. You know all this. More basics. I am not good at this 4 p.M.