2 May 2000

Bob Miller

Dear Pat Matsueda,

An unfortunate privilege of getting-on is one forgets important things which bounce into memory months later, and this seems always my case. I meant to call you before I left for New York but like so many meant-to’s was forgotten. Anyway, I gave Hal some long poems for you to read—not submissions but simply to share them with you—and I hope he did not forget, for I have no recollection now of what they were. I do hope they found you, as I hope this perhaps vaguely addressed letter does. I trust the Post Office there is better than here where nobody reads anything but zip codes and surnames.

I had a very bad winter in New York and Honolulu; had to have treatment for chronic clinical depression, but I am feeling much better now and enjoying my home city. Am also writing a lot and revising old poems and sending stuff out to small presses. I don’t expect much success as I think I am out of this time, but I still try. Most editors seem to like my work but won’t publish it; well, sometimes they do. I guess this is the story of most overage poets. Sometimes I ask myself why I do it and quickly respond to my own inane question, it’s simply what I do, and it’s why I’m here, and there’s really nothing else to do well but try to write poems; the craft is a way of feeling oneself towards reality.

There is one other thing I can do, encourage younger poets like yourself. I know you are very busy as an editor but I hope you keep time for the writing of poems. This is very important because nothing, nothing can take its place, and a lifetime has taught me that, public success or not. I have a close friend here, a fairly well-known poet who is about to chair the Department of English at a university. He’s a great teacher and editor, but I beg him to keep some time free for his own writing. It’s not a question of how one will be remembered or how time should be spent, it’s a matter of honoring one’s basic and original calling. even if one is not chosen. It is a good way of spending time because doing it you walk out of time. Oh I talk too much. I hope we can continue this in person, when I get back to Honolulu in June.

Keep well.

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