Posting this from
New York State Summer Writers Institute in Saratoga where I come every summer to work on my writing that isn't for sale. (Or more accurately, my writing for which buyers aren't clamoring.) It's a gathering of writers from all over the world, started in the 80s by William Kennedy (
Ironweed) and now run by editors of legendary litmag
Salmagundi. Every day there are classes and seminars with writers I admire. Every night, writers take turns sharing their work, much of which is new and not yet in publication. A few years ago, I had the breathtaking experience of hearing
Marilynne Robinson read the opening chapter of her then forthcoming novel,
Gilead. (Readings are open to all, check out
impressive lineup if you're in the area.)

Last night was a double-header by Allan Gurganus (
Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All) and by one of my favorite poets:
Franz Wright. Here is Franz (left) (ha) at the after-party, with another of my favorite poets:
Frank Bidart. If you don't know their work, treat yourself to the pleasure. Even people who aren't poetry fans are taken in by Bidart's "
Old Man at the Wheel". (If you like it, you'll love
the rest of the book.) Wright has garnished many distinctions, including the distinction of publishing the first dot com poem, at the turn of the century when most people thinking about dot coms weren't poets.
Address Search
And you will find me
any night
now, try
at the motherless sky.
com
How dare you
interrupt
me.com
I'm sorry
I was ever born.com
No doubt
you can always find
me any
time, any
where
in the damned world
--Franz Wright
The New Yorker, June 5, 2000