Letter from Robert Kelly to Frank, 7 April 77 in die Mandati

Dear Frank,
Yes, towards a reading here, let us hope in the Fall.
That per se ipsum, being willing (as even in The Commedia) to be pleonastic, to be sure our
sleepy wits don't stray -
how be arrives in V.N. a percipient wakeful audience. How accurate that excess is -
it is well D is not one of those who whine about proportion; always, to look deeper, like
the snow-smitten farmer at The Canto's start.
Things fall from me, language, lives; remember nothing. Not servility but a weak, weakest, Saturius
(symbol, retrograde, symbols) it is the damon of by productivity (or if I believe by reistness my
prolixity) - I can remember nothing to the purpose I've ever spoken, so must engage the event
anew. I have no "Plattheit fur jeves Bedurtris like the ususe literatus.
(You  speak of Origin, and I think of how purissant Cid's must be!)
To share with you - passing over the Berkshires on Tuesday towards Boston, the miles near Becket
brought us through a crystal forest, yellow of willow, red of alder, greens of the needle - trees all
sheathed in the morning's ice-storm. Thirty miles of such beauty! Ice, speaking like silicon
of time did not exist - fur of a past animal, hard pellage soft under fur: sable of the northern world.
My best to you and your work, be well.

I have heard Arturo B-M will play this year in New York. Do you know when?

(Very hard to read the letters that Robert wrote to Frank - I have scanned the letter so others may see each word) Thank you to Robert Kelly to give me permission to post these wonderful letters to Frank.


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