707 Scott Street: The Journal of John Wieners (Sun & Moon by John Wieners

By John Wieners

San Francisco 1958-9, prefaces through L Warsh & F Howe

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And I am a needy and lonely wanderer clad in red with no memories (what a difficult law to live by) so it is I strip the walls of my room that I may have the fresh, the neq not the evocative image of friends of faces my soul knows from the past, but the old wide plain where man is alone, only the red guilt on his hands, of his own life, what he has and must use. I was going to say guilt for having stolen fire, or blood running down his hands, but these images we recognize. I mean the red that is his alone containing fire and blood, but more the gift, the I all over the page without will but a plan a design of the wind.

Le style est l'homtne. Section z) Be a thousand weeds be ink thrown under the hull, be a black sea. You are the rain of forms into white space that was nothing, is now abstract design, the blue boat black boat gone. Now a His dedication to Guinevere, the long life with and without her, had so filled his being with the magnetisms of love that he was like a demon presence that set the mind astray. But he himself was likewise astray, under the spell of the singular passion that possessed him. One might say blue circle the eye, that pops in and bounces among the weeds.

Gone with the night. Writing he knew was an agony. From what source it sprang he did not know. That the gods were not with him now he knew. But he felt that the recording of that fact was important. The cqnng on the doorstep had begun again. And the girl came in calling: Mommy do you uant to see a sailboat? | am a silent man, he thought. How can I ever amuse a woman? Fill her life with a structure that would support her and prop her for the life they had left together. The wind is a woman, he thought, but he knew that was not true.

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