the rix mix

The last time I attempted to fully express the regret
& disappointment I feel from having tried to be a
public poet in New Jersey, I sent off a terribly
unpleasant note to a poet I'd known for nearly 30 years.
That was about three years ago. In fact, I pretty much
walked away following the 1994 Dodge Poetry Festival.
From the late Seventies until the NJ State Council
on the Arts stopped awarding them, I dutifully sent off
to Trenton my Poetry Fellowship application & portfolio
every year they handed them out. There's little doubt
in my mind that had I received a fellowship before I turned 40
it would have totally changed my life, for those awards
were the only endorsements of basic literary competency
that had automatic currency with all NJ arts organizations.
To be turned down year after year was cumulatively dispiriting.
After awhile I felt like I was becoming Phil Rizzuto,
a sad joke forced to wait until allies Yogi Berra & Bill White
sat on the Hall of Fame Veterans Selection Committee.
But it sometimes does help to go to the bench.
I feel much more appreciated & respected at WFMU
than 8 years ago, when I was slowly burning out,
running dry of ideas, always afraid of losing my spot
on the schedule. In my heart, I wanted to sit down,
listen to Mahler symphonies, Beethoven quartets,
enjoy any kind of music without concerning
myself with the next week's novelties. I knew
the most & the least I could get out of WFMU.

I also knew the most I could get out of immersion
in New Jersey poetry. A few close friendships,
a wider social circle. Some income, certainly, for the
networker & hard worker. The more effort one gave,
the more one could earn. It was pretty evident that a
literary rep based on what one accomplished here
rarely transcended the borders of the state. That requires
a different ambition, & a different set of goals. But all I
wanted was some peer approval, acknowledgement
that I was creating good art.