A
Love Letter
Christopher Shugrue
February 1, 2014
Boulder,
CO
I
think of Neal Cassady. What if Jack had
never met you? Would he have written On the Road? Would Jack have taken to that ol’ road at all
without your letters to spur him on?
What if you had not been there to be his muse? Would Visions of Cody still be dangling in
the firmament, waiting on another time, another space to be born? What of Allen—who he without his cocksman of
Denver? Would his howl still shake city
walls? And if no Jack on the road, would
there be a school named after the man whose words you so inspired? Probably not and maybe good for them there on
the Arapahoe: then they wouldn’t have to
hide from the lineage made them famous.
Hello Jack Kerouac School: why do
you deny your lineage? Embrace your story and remember: it’s all about the writing. Oh Naropa:
Now that I am gone, will you deny my name when my words get out? Will you deny me because I am not “other” and
not worthy of a voice? Oh JKS: there is more to this world than feminism and
queer theory. Such worthy voices, yes,
so please let them sing, but why limit yourself to just those sweet tunes? Embrace Jack and Neal and Allen and for
fucks sake: teach a class on Anne
Waldman’s poetry: in this great future,
you can’t forget your past; you can’t deny your present. And when you’re done reconciling your demons,
let’s hit that mad road together . . .
Love your words and thoughts. Some courses I think still on the books: Contemplative Poetics, Kerouac's Road, anything with Junior really or Reed. Anne still brings her fast talking wisdom to the Summer. Still there is the sense of waiting while an influence wanes. What I learned looking at the moon; thing about waning is the inevitable wax. You are the lineage brother. Sister. Teacup. Whiskey. If not for Neal then... don't finish the thought. Neal was and was and is and is. The road that was and is and is. And so we are and are and were.
ReplyDeleteAgreed, sir. Each of us was lucky enough to take one of those classes. Contemplative Poetics was my introduction into JKS but the vibration didn't last long after that semester ended. Perhaps a spring board into another frame of mind, into my own writing and learning, but no encouragement to respond thereafter. Reed, yes. Junior, yes. But where is it going? How to support the name, the lineage, when the very director declares “not a fan.” How will the dust settle when those two voices journey on? Where doth the road lead when the scholars are silenced? SWP has a strong presence, and to respond to your letter, yes, but it's not enough. JKS has become a brand name and I fear it will soon be nothing more. A factory. A high churning of what one person believes are the materials to make a good writer. Yes we are the lineage now, but how to prevent the thread from splitting, snapping, falling away, lending body into a form of a snake in the water. Echo of slither, of sound, but all eventually silenced when the majority becomes the minority.
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