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  Robin Blaser
Robin Blaser,
Robin Blaser
born Denver, Colorado, 1925, grew up in Twin Falls, Idaho—I remember by name all the splendid teachers there in Latin, English, French, History and Biology. Arrived by bus in Berkeley, 1944, met by friends from there, took my bag to the Durant Hotel, then up to the Greek Theater to see Euripides' Trojan Women. A fine first day, which got even better when Gene Wahl brought me Jack Spicer, who later brought Robert Duncan to me after finding him at an anarchist meeting. I remember especially the presences of Josephine Miles, Ernst Kantarovicz, Arthur Brodeur, Linforth, Hannah Arendt, and Duncan's and my Greek tutor, Rosario Jimenez. I left to be a librarian at Harvard, 1955-1959, where Spicer joined me for a year. Went to Europe for 5 months and returned to San Francisco, then Christmas dinner, turkey and all on Stinson Beach with Duncan and Jess, 1959. I was a librarian at the California Historical Society, 1959 and at San Francisco State, 1961-1965. James Felts and I lived in San Francisco until 1966, when our relationship of many years faded. During the Poetry Conference in Berkeley in 1965, Robert Creeley and Charles Olson were folded into my heart and mind. In 1966 I was offered a position at the new Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, British Columbia, where I taught for 20 years. There, David Farwell and I have been partners for 29 years. I am grateful to Canada. I am honoured to find in Berkeley, on Addison Avenue, bronze plaques in the sidewalk for Duncan, Spicer and me in a row. San Francisco remains my home town.
Robin Blaser

from Language is Love




Robin Blaser
We must return to the Lark of our speech.

I would have them eat of the heart of this

form-of-life that they might participate in

the form of it.


Language is love—the only way to enter

the form of our lives.


Untitled




Robin Blaser
sea and sky
desiring
the boat with its vibrant
pink sail on English Bay
calls each of us to sail
those passionate adventures
out there   desiring,
I know it's the white
desire of the clouds drifting
when the moon rushes
into the game and drill
of actual language
loving it out there,
the particular peril
as desire trusts


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