Poetry International journal, more networking

17 Thursday. I took photos of Lars Gustafson, Charles Simiç, and Rutger Kopeland, and some of my drawings are coming out OK. I draw in between headshots. A woman came up to me afterwards and said, you were transfixed by Rutger Kopeland weren’t you? I asked, was it that obvious? She said yes. The photographer took a photo of you too. It was so funny when Lars read a poem about a photo, he said click! just as I clicked; he looked at me sideways, and the audience laughed.

I missed the Chilean poet, oh well. I have two more nights. I was supposed to stay in Rotterdam because the metro is locked at midnight, before the readings are over. My friend Vins was a bit pissy, cranky and blue, because it’s his birthday and he was upset the whole night long. 

The big antique mirror we scored one night on the street, fell off the wall and shattered. Ominous. Glass like escaped ghosts, everywhere. So I made him a cupcake, and brought him roses and chocolate; it helped to ease the pain a bit. Anyway, I arrived late for the evening reading, but I was in time for the second set so it was OK.

Lars has performed with Poetry International four times. He was part of the first event in 1971. We went to the hospitality room afterwards and definitely that’s where the action is and where the networking happens. Leo Vroman showed me a copy of a most unusual book he made with overlays, etc. He also does some visual poetry. 

Karoly Bari and I had a strange double-translated conversation from English to Russian with Dmitri Prigov until he got the bright idea to speak to him directly in Russian; he gave me several poems already translated into English for our magazine. I also gave Dmitri Prigov copy of Glasnost. He knew many of the poets we had published and promised to get them copies. We actually did translate and print two of his poems and he admitted they were from the late 70s. I was surprised as they are totally different than, his sound poetry which borders on gibberish.

Ilya Kutek also gave me some poems as did Marjan Meijer. I gave Marjan a copy of my poems, but I don’t know if it’s particularly useful. I didn’t have flyers so I don’t know how to spell their last names. I told Rutger Kopeland that I liked his poetry, but his books were so expensive. He said to tell the bookseller to give me a copy for 20 gilders. I’m thrilled by his generosity.

One bookseller was enchanted with my student anthologies, she wants to take 10 copies to see how it will sell, with a 25 percent commission and she will pay postage. Wow. I also got a tentative job offer to work in South Africa at Durban University if they can get funding for a poetry festival. I take it all in stride, lucrative, or not. 

Someone told me that the California CPITS program makes them envious. I said that I’m here to teach poets how to do it; I just can’t seem to make contact. Naochem Winberg and Charles Simiç overheard me as they went to get wine and he handed me two glasses. His work is very mythic, but it’s more like a mini play with objects. Very surreal.

I asked Leo Vroman for a copy of his visual poem that was in the newspaper. I made a tentative date with Victor Manuel to go to the museum tomorrow, but he wasn’t sure. He had to work on translations, he reads tomorrow night.

After midnight we all went over to the all night staging of Derek Walcott’s play, Omeros, but it was in Dutch. Some of the poets read on the radio. The theater is also a live radio show. Wild. The play is in seven parts, and last until 7 AM, so there are videos and banquets going on simultaneously as the play and radio program air. Also, there are installation pieces shrines of sorts to Derek. 

I stayed till 1:30 AM and got bored and then went to the metro but everything was locked up tight so I couldn’t get to Ton’s place, and since I had a train ticket back to Amsterdam, home it was.

I made tentative plans to meet with Victor tomorrow and/or go touring with Herman and Ton and now it looks like I won’t be able to do either. Victor Manuel Mendiola said he wasn’t going to the Omeros play, and as I walked out of the theater into the lobby, a small hole in the crowd opened and we spotted each other, and there we were, dodging around bodies to verify each other with our eyes. It was pretty comical, but he was busy with the translator, so I didn’t join him.

Leo Vroman introduced me to Dutch-Israeli poet Judith Herzberg, we were a little stiff, since I had tried to make contact with her in October and she blew me off. Maybe I was stiffer than I needed to be, but I felt put off by her, and really had nothing to say to her. I surely didn’t feel like gushing. We shook hands formally, and that was it. I think I do better with the Dutch poets as they like to hang out. They are more gezellig. Not Judith.