Slowglass Volume 1, Number 1 – Uncollected Bukowski Poems and Lennon’s Nutopia (1 Viewer)

Pogue Mahone

Officials say drugs may have played a part
I picked up a copy of this one on Abe. It was published in 1973 by COLORAMA PRESS at Montclair State College in New Jersey.

It has five Bukowski poems. According to the database, two appeared in posthumous books, the database has two carbons that were never collected, and one was not in the database. The one not in the database (“all about”) seems like a different style (more arty) than Buk was doing in 1973, but I still like it a lot. All the versions of the poems in this magazine match the carbons.

The magazine also contains John and Yoko’s “Declaration of Utopia.” It’s dated August 6, 1973, several months after the official declaration was made on April Fools Day.

There is also an introduction page for Bukowski by the editor that I’ve included.

Here’s the info from the database:

She Lost Weight
Slouching Toward Nirvana
she lost weight - 1973-08-28 - carbon [Manuscript differs from collected version]

Vegetables - 1973-08-28 - carbon

The Copulation Blues
Come On In! - pg. 94 - 2006
the copulation blues - 1973-09-05 - carbon [Manuscript differs from collected version]

all about
Not in database

The Arcade Room
THE ARCADE ROOM - 1973-05-29 - carbon

In looking at the carbons and the timeline, here’s something else that’s interesting to note from a historical perspective.

“The Arcade Room” was written on Edgewater Terrace while he was living with Linda King.

She Lost Weight, Vegetables and The Copulation Blues were written on Oxford Avenue after he moved out.

There’s no carbon for “all about” so we don’t know where he was living, but the poem may well be about how he was feeling about himself after the (first) fall out of their relationship.
long ago
I remember a rather good poet
a very good poet
who said something about them
leaving the air signed with their

The Truly Great
By Stephen Spender

I think continually of those who were truly great.
Who, from the womb, remembered the soul’s history
Through corridors of light, where the hours are suns,
Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition
Was that their lips, still touched with fire,
Should tell of the Spirit, clothed from head to foot in song.
And who hoarded from the Spring branches
The desires falling across their bodies like blossoms.

What is precious, is never to forget
The essential delight of the blood drawn from ageless springs
Breaking through rocks in worlds before our earth.
Never to deny its pleasure in the morning simple light
Nor its grave evening demand for love.
Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother
With noise and fog, the flowering of the spirit.

Near the snow, near the sun, in the highest fields,
See how these names are fêted by the waving grass
And by the streamers of white cloud
And whispers of wind in the listening sky.
The names of those who in their lives fought for life,
Who wore at their hearts the fire’s centre.
Born of the sun, they travelled a short while toward the sun
And left the vivid air signed with their honour.

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