Marc Maron on the Living Batch

living batch marc maron

Living batch statement

A flyer Pancho Elliston sent me – unknown source (so far).

Many articles about the Batch! .    .    .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .(Yes I did work there in and out.)

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Robert Creeley Handouts UNM 1962

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New Scan591

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New Scan593Of course these aren’t all the pages we talked about in Robert Creeley’s English 121 course but they are among the few I still have. I’d heard him read from For Love directly to Bobbie Creeley in the Adobe Theater in Old Town, Albuquerque, but became acquainted with him in this class. Hank Chapin (who published Bluegrass & first published me) and Bill Dodd (who I published in a duende) were in this classThen I went to the Vancouver Poetry Conference thanks to Bob’s urging, and immediately after started duende, moving to Placitas from Albuquerque about the same time the Creeleys did (1963), a wonderful coincidence.

It was that Wollensak (and I do believe wire) recorder he brought to class from which we heard his interviews with Duncan, Dorn, Olson, McClure, Zukofsky, Levertov? and, by way of the visiting Jonathan Williams, Basil Bunting . . . I think some of the tapes he had came from his interview program on KHFM  “The Single Ear,” the Albuquerque classical station, where they were aired. But then in his home in the Village we listened to all the way from Kurt Schwitters to an interview with Ezra Pound to Frank Zappa. I have cassette dubs of a few of these still at home since I haven’t yet arranged to send my media stuff to Yale.


Bob Creeley saved my life. The WCW-Olson-Creeley-etc. voices broke through my word glut, and as embarrassing as it is, here’s a bit of how he helped . . .

Christo lg Creeley suggestions

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PC Creeley come to Vancouver

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico

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New Mexico and Beyond – New Poetry


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Thank You Meredith Rice

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A Stroll Down Memory Lane or An Abridged Version of Political History as I See It- Lenore Goodell

From my wife and love of 49 years, Lenore Goodell, her photograph and words.
Thank you and love to all.- larry


[All this has been roiling about in my head for a while and even though I hate to write I cannot let it go.]

Remembering back long, long ago in the wake of the Clinton election, Cokie Roberts was spouting on NPR and made the pronouncement that the Republicans would “eat their young” (in what I presume would be frustration). At the time, that sounded like a pretty good outcome, and I was very happy to have an energetic President with fairly liberal values – younger than myself (but the same ballpark).

BUT Ms. Roberts was entirely wrong. Instead of eating young they created an industry of discrediting President Clinton and his family in the most despicable and slimiest manner.

In spite of that the USA had a successful run of 8 years. And I think if Al Gore hadn’t distanced himself from Clinton he would have won. (Well, in reality, he did win but that was the first time they stole the election with dirty tricks i.e. voter suppression and having their Supremes declare a winner.)

[Think of how different the world might be. No war in Iraq that destabilized the Middle East and global warming being addressed 16 years ago – maybe a chance to turn things around.]

Even after the Bush years and President Obama elected, Republicans never stopped their scummy behavior, scheming to block any accomplishments, attempting to discredit a man who clearly is above any reproach. Many times along the way of his term I had wished he were more liberal and more scrappy to the folks arrayed on the other side but, of course, they had the benefit of owning the congress which was bought and paid for by the hard labor of gerrymandering and throwing dark money in small elections. So, many people not doing well in a good economy is due to the Republican Congress thwarting a good bit of the President’s recovery program. [As I see it they passed just enough to benefit themselves and leave the rest of us in the cold and dark.]

So now we come around to my point in this shaggy dog story. Here is another stolen election. I knew the fix was in when Trump announced that Democrats would steal the election, because that is one of the Republication game plans – a preemptive strike to make the truth sound like defensiveness. And even with all the nasty dirt Secretary Clinton got pelted with (a lot of it a revival of the old anti-Clinton industry) she and Democrats and we the people were winning but for:
Voter suppression
The FBI placing fingers on the scale at the last minute
Russian interference.

All of these make the pollution of our sacred right to vote in a fair election a clear fact and Donald Trump a cheat, liar, in my opinion a traitor and the front man of a right-wing coup. And the troll army is out saying that we are poor sports and disrespectful to not accept this “election result” as a final word. ARE THEY KIDDING? They must think we Americans are all fools.

It is the Democrats’ patriotic duty to speak up and speak out. I don’t know what can happen now – but I do know that Democrats have to gather and fight as hard and nasty as Republicans. High moral ground and gentility is clearly not loud enough to win the day. Learn to boil messages down to simplistic and jingoistic phrases like they do. Attack and resist, it’s a fight for our existence.

Lenore Goodell

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2 Guest Editors – Garrison & Goodell – Truck Blog

Phil Garrison Selection of New Poems this is from December of 2016.
Larry Goodell Selection of New Poems this is from July . . . .

Congratulations Phil for your bringing these poems out! larry

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David, a poem for David Franks



collaged images from the net david franks, poet, baltimore

I’m not your
I’m not your
I’m not your
I’m not your
Your New Orleans
Your vibrato.
I’m not your anything
I’m just a memory
of a non-mammary
I’m not even that
I’m the exact thistle
in an objectionable plant
of this state.
Waiting to cast my prickles
all over the place.
And if I see your face
I’ll say David
how you’ve aged
and so have I
but I am not
your Goliath
I don’t like
to be hit
by pits
of prunes
or anything
no matter how trumped up
how old
how folded up & presented
like a Valentine
I’m not anything
but the separation of skulls
across the great divide
a broken tether between
that could be singing sweetly
of times that might have been.
The sweetest thing of all
is what is lost
the imagined
that never came true
because things as they are
are so rudely present.
Thank heavens
for all the great
might have beens.
We think about them

love, larry / from Creator Tricks, poems written in 1996

For a myriad postcards sent to me from David go here!

David died January 14th, 2010. I believe he was born in 1944 or ’45 since I was working on his Touch here in Placitas and published it in 1966. He was living in Placitas and one of Robert Creeley’s students.

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico

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I’m 80

img_2982I’m as 80 as you’re going to get. I couldn’t be eightier.
80 times around the sun the Earth with me on it.
80 times 365 is too much to think about.
I probably should be downsized in age if it were possible.
Heck, I’m as old as Alcoholics Anonymous.
I’m as old as the Gallup Poll and guess what was first produced
.     .    .    in the year I was born? Nylon.
I shared my birth with the birth of swing
so obviously Benny Goodman was much much older than I am.
I’m as old as Monopoly and the first canned beer went on sale
the year I was born. The first paperback books came out
from Penguin. I’m as old as the 1st paperback book!
Now I’m really feeling old. The Volkswagen Beetle,
.     .    .    remember those? the year I was born.
I’m as old as the first florescent tube.
I’m as old as the first Toyota car and lo & behold
the very first parking meters.
I’m as old as the WPA – too bad it died!
And get this: I’m the exact age of social security –
.     .    .    .     .    .    praise Democrats!
Boulder Dam was completed – and – I was born.
And guess what, the first Sugar Bowl and first Orange Bowl.
The first men’s briefs, in Chicago: they called it “the Jockey.”
Ezra Pound is meeting Benito Mussolini and reading him
.     .    .    a draft of the “Cantos.”
James Farrell finishes his great Studs Lonigan trilogy.
Herman Goering officially creates . . . . . the Luftwaffe.
Persia officially becomes . . . . . Iran.
I’m as old as the beginning of the Dust Bowl
.     .    .    after the worst ravaging sandstorms in the Midwest.
The year the New Deal was born, and Porgy & Bess opens in New York.
And Mickey Mouse appears in color on the screen for the first time.
I’m as 80 as you’re going to get. I couldn’t be eightier.

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico
written for my birthday solstice potluck June 20th, 2015 and read before the cake.
also read at Chatter in Albuquerque! Thanks to all.

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Intro Bill Pearlman Stephen Rodefer Poetry Reading – 1973


Bill Pearlman, Lennie Silverberg (hidden), Stephen Rodefer

FERVENT VALLEY is old New Mexico Fruit Oriental Blue Streak Dr. Amer-Indian
Negro Woman Chicana Duende White Brother spelled backwards
& BILL PEARLMAN whose Age is Apparent
& STEVE RODEFER whose manner Takes the Cake
something to do with D.H. Lawrence & Robert Creeley Georgia O’Keefe
William Eastlake & the Indian on the Hill John Rechy Keith Wilson
& Others & Others & Space
which is under the subterranean reaches of Okies & this building —
Placitas Corrales & Beyond the Visionary Artaud Hirschman Kinetic in
Pearlman he drops down acid rhetoric in contrary planes
& Rodefer as Voices carries lovemaking the Sight which is inner Province
of Troubadore in spillage careful outward
these Two Gents of lore around this town — all part of a renewed
face of the Southwest in 1967 Zingdap! & I fell down the stairs by
the orchestra pit into the arms of six beautiful women — & I have nothing
better to urge on this evening but the entire possibility of Speech in
Dance of Reform of itself — friends & all — STEVE RODEFER & BILL PEARLMAN

/larry goodell / placitas, new mexico / 1973new-scan910

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Poems for Bill Pearlman & One By Him

pearlman lenore me

Bill Pearlman, Lenore and Larry Goodell in Placitas a few years back . . .

Romance Cavalier

/for Bill Pearlman

As was as is as to be –
what are we going to do
without the Romance Cavalier?
You know as I do that we all should be permanent.
Those infrequent visits can’t simply come to a stop.
There’s too much hilarity when he’s at his best.
Questions that come from the fog of not knowing who he is
. . that are so funny,
as if we all know better who he is, who he was, who he is to be.
Bill never misspelled as I recall.
He wrote and acted in his own plays.
He wrote. He acted. He acted when he read what he wrote.
Sometimes the intensity and the furrowed brow drove his words in edgewise
where they weren’t wanted, but mostly
the electric absurdity bristled and a circus tent appeared out of nowhere
and he was the carnival barker. We all wondered
what was the carnival? What was it going to be?
or what will it be when we’ve taken down the tent & departed
and future thrill-seekers will have to make sense of what
we know so well. Well
your athletic spirit has sprinted from Majorca to L.A. from
L.A. to New Mexico, to all points West and South to San Miguel.
And, Romance Cavalier, there are chapters and volumes of memories
. . of the parade and the bands, the bars & the audience,
the verbal counterplay and amused company that continues to this day
and sends you on your way with all of us.

larry goodell / placitas, nm / 13aug2016

The Stars, Language & Love

for late friends Bill Pearlman & Larry Morris

Suns, star energy,
spark the universe

(et tu universum
genus humanum)

cluck tongues,
smack lips, in-

verse mumble
shuck ’n jive of

the highest order,
Heaven’s vulgar,

commonplace order where
all things change

save Bastards & Angles,
the ever expanding
Language of Love,

& the never expanding
Language of the Dead

  it is my wish to enlighten to some little extent the discernment of those who walk through the streets like blind men, generally fancying that things which are in front of them are behind them, I will endeavor, the Word aiding me from Heaven, to be of service to the vernacular speech.   Dante, De vulgari eloquentia

Neil Nelson

Bill Pearlman, born in 1943, died in 2016 – in San Miguel – complications from a back operation.

Listen. From a cassette “letter” sent to me in the 90’s Bill reads “Wind.” 

Pearlman collage

some of our consorting

Kick Back

Death comes like a pearled shell
a nothing brocade
as energy saps out of itself
into something else
as the departed greet each other
the imagination hopes
there Bob, there Keith, there Kell, there Ken
there Steve, there Meredith, there Susan, there Bill,
they’re there with the larger world of the dead –
Earth absorbs them all
and our minds kick back to them.

(thinking of so many friends/poets gone . . . )

Love to all and all memories, real things,

lots more to come to commemorate in this blog and others . . .
comments appreciated.

This is from Charlie Vermont, Dr. Vermont, former resident with Ann and family,
of Placitas.

Dear Larry
Glad you are still keeping at it. I would have liked to have seen Bill,Steve,
and Ken before they passed. Very ensconced in medicine and immediate family.
I recently reread that piece you did on me and realized it was as close as I ever
came to writing an artistic statement and sent it to one of the poets I admire.
Hope you and Lenore are doing well up on the hill looking into the vast West.


Bill showed up June 20th in Placitas, 2015, at the 80th birthday party Lenore
put together for me and this is the last time these old friends got together.

Photographs here by Bob D’Allesandro, so grateful for . . .

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Bill even had a poem for the occasion – here reading it . . . . what a blessing

To Larry Goodell on His 80th

Quick trips blames a negotiated High
and all our Geminis have wandered –
But no telling where you’ll be heading
out in the great desert of song
wandering wondering pen in mind
come see the world as remarkably free
so long the song continues to bubble up
and sheer mastery loom across the sky

Residual heritage blinks on & off
in homeland of ongoing dream:
What amazed us was the indivisible world
of color – the mesa grande & beyond –
the Sandias & the Sangre de Cristos,
elemental earth stations under a vast sky

Love was never far removed.
Whether in grandstand cosmos or bookstore
the sound of the human voice concurrent
structure of infinite molecule and brain connected
living in a flash of gorgeous ascent
that keeps us all hovering in perfect whirl –

for Larry – Love, Bill -Bill Pearlman 20June2015

Pearlman poem to larry 80th

the rounds of magical fires that keep our hearts alive and alive in our hearts . . .

and something from 1967 for Meredith Rice and Bill Pearlman, married in Bernalillo/Placitas . . .



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