Prose poetry; fragments; 30 pages; Loose collection of fragments. Philadelphia, PA; Age:
15; Adolescence; Amy years, deeply involved and aware; Writing as reflection, process, a way to think about what is going on.
First page of prose fragments, 1968; Mss_0014_01.
Loose sheets, unbound; 32 pp.; Typewritten; Good condition, some aging of the paper visible.
Prose; Melancholy, death, loss, awareness, reflection, introspection;
A touch of magical realism pervades this text, which has
been written out with care, delicacy. Handwritten originals have to have existed,
but sometimes the typing was direct. The production is clean, with only a few
double-strikes as correction.
Nameless I, 1970;
Journal of Characters, 1968;
Journals: Fall, 1969; Winter, 1970;
Inventory, 1970; Summer; 1970.
This quasi-mystical text was written in June, 1968, and in anticipation of Amy's departure for college and the separation we faced in-between. The elegiac tone, the
deep melancholy, and the sense of dissolution of identity, connected it to the earlier short stories "Felice" and
which were both about dissolution of self
and identity. The piece is clipped together with a bunch of other short pieces and fragments. These include outtakes from writing about the characters
that Amy and I invented and enacted. Their lives were my life, and I wrote in the first person from
the point of view of Nameless, or Paul, or other figures who are figments of that waking dream world that
we inhabited. The complete absorption into my relationship with Amy had its difficulties, and there were
many crises and upsets, between us, with our parents, with our friends. The diaries tell some of this story,
and the later manuscripts that were produced around 1984 when we thought we might write an account of our relationship together.
Some of the manuscripts here are filled with cliches, lines from popular songs, Beatle references,
other imagery straight out of pop culture. I took these things and used them in the prose fragments, but not
in the journals, which gave a more direct account of the emotional stresses and relationship issues of this period.
I know I am about to lose Amy, as we will be separated much of the summer of 1968. She went to be a camp counselor and
I went to a high school science program at the University of Bridgeport. But I am in a trauma state, in shock at the separation
and what it means ahead. I cannot imagine the world without her. I have no idea what to do except to write to fill the void, write the
accounts of our characters, write the account of those accounts, the hinted at metanarrative of our life together, a life that is closeted
in the deepest sense, and which I feel I cannot speak of to anyone, even to those who know so clearly what is going on between us. The pain
of this existence is almost unbearable. I will lose a lover I cannot acknowledge.