In the 4 and a half years I've been working on a feature documentary about Julia, I've never come across this poem. Julia's characteristically clever and incisive wit is embodied in killer lines such as: "We became noble by accident, almost by mistake", "Our wildness was the present tense of paradox", and "We couldn't afford to play with fire but we flared like torches". I intend to feature some text from this poem onscreen in the film--thank you Poetic Outlaws!
It’s not uncommon to omit the killings (2 dead, 12 wounded) at Jackson State in Mississippi just days after the Kent State murders. The Military-Industrial-Complex was as keen on war in 1970 as it is today. Those deaths in 1970 were to prevent the anti-Vietnam War protests from gaining traction. A sentiment of those times: “What if Education had all the money it needs and the Air Force had to hold bake sales to buy a new bomber.”
Great poem! I didn't know Julia personally, but I remember seeing her walking around Telegraph Avenue in the early 1970s and also the early 1980s, times when I lived in Berkeley. I remember buying a book of her poems at Shakespeare's. I was way too shy to ever try to talk to her. She always seemed to carrying about a huge notebook, and wore a multicolored hat, something like a beret.
I was there too. In those days so many things that were true sounded insane that it became easy to believe that many things that sounded insane were true.
Hello Robert, I'm making a feature documentary about Julia. May I ask where you're based? If you're in the Bay Area, I may wish to film this photo for my documentary. Please write to me via the film website's contact page so we can discuss further, cheers:
have subscribed. must explore this lass’s work. am ferlinghetti fan and student of the times i grew up in. in england, on the oilybeach called south yorkshire, where tv news and used copies of it and oz were the only feed beyond returning travellers (so i became one, ohhhhh yes)
I represented England as a "New Wave" poet at the 1968 international event, Struga Poetry Evenings: Towards the end of 1968 I was invited to represent England in an International Poetry Event in Struga, Macedonia, Yugoslavia. I travelled to Yugoslavia with another poet friend Edward Pope, who was also from the Galaxy. We arrived in Belgrade the day after the Russians had invaded Czechoslovakia. The Yugoslavian authorities were very apprehensive about being next in line and the Belgrade police arrested me together with the writer Moma Dimic, as we strolled along the Danube at night (they thought we might be planning to blowup bridges). I was almost thrown out of the country when I turned up almost naked and covered with mud at the Gala night of the event to read my official entry, an erotic poem called "Our Dream". I still have an unpublished photograph of Moma conversing together with the poet Robert Graves, at his house in Ibiza.
I actually lived on Ibiza for a year back-in-the-day. I had finished my drugs-sex-rock’n’roll phase and was living a quiet, contemplative life at that point. That didn’t stop the good times, though!
Amanda ceased sprinkling huckleberries into the yogurt bowl and turned her friend over and over like an old coin in the connoisseur fingers of her sight. “So you want a sign, do you?” she asked at last. “Jimmy, my ringmaster, do you think it an accident, a mere coincidence, that LSD became available to the public, was thrust into the consciousness of the West, at precisely the time of the invasion of Tibet?”
Nearly Normal didn't say a word but his eyes throbbed and widened behind the lens of his spectacles and he ran out into the frosty damp and never came back for his breakfast.
I am a child of the seventies. I could not remember Woodstock or other '60s music festivals. The activism was different as were the movements. It was a brighter side to all the darkness that ensued in Vietnam. I'd like to share an idea I had on the whole Woodstock cultural phenomenon. Thanks.
“Woodstock At Summer's Edge”
the white sea opened itself while sweeter waters hid other stars
fifty years ago, the rural village of Bethel was invaded by devices of
change
as the naked froliced in idyllic lakes, the flower power generation
had spread their sisterly love seeds
amplifiers re-tuned to hiss and soften the thunder as rain seemed to
saturate the whole culture
a bit of the dirtiness and loveliness too
we are made of dust and silver tears in dreams
green, pristine hills arch above the main stage
only to be transformed alive, under a breathless sunset
the faintest wind chases fever spirits for us tonight
fields so trampled, the colour of earth's mud tainted
war threatened the skies only applause could quell
seekers one, hundreds of thousands without legends or maps in
order to navigate the merry madness over the valleys
Truth sets you free. We shall over come some day. The drugs for pleasure are now for pain. What did the experiment gain? To know protesters who walk up Bunkers hill do get to the top, but are arrested not to be on tv but to be pawns in the media doup-soup. Spoon fed to millions wishing they could have been at Woodstock in the reign of response. Of good times of rock and roll with Janis Joplin and Bobby McGee.
i used to watch Woodstock on a loop and cry that i was born too late. i wanted to be a hippie in the 60s so much. being a hippie in the 80s felt out of step, but i did it anyway. this poem helps me see deeper into that time. thank you for sharing.
So powerful, honest, inspirational, depressing, relevant, overarching. The Paradox is our human reality.
In the 4 and a half years I've been working on a feature documentary about Julia, I've never come across this poem. Julia's characteristically clever and incisive wit is embodied in killer lines such as: "We became noble by accident, almost by mistake", "Our wildness was the present tense of paradox", and "We couldn't afford to play with fire but we flared like torches". I intend to feature some text from this poem onscreen in the film--thank you Poetic Outlaws!
It’s not uncommon to omit the killings (2 dead, 12 wounded) at Jackson State in Mississippi just days after the Kent State murders. The Military-Industrial-Complex was as keen on war in 1970 as it is today. Those deaths in 1970 were to prevent the anti-Vietnam War protests from gaining traction. A sentiment of those times: “What if Education had all the money it needs and the Air Force had to hold bake sales to buy a new bomber.”
Great poem! I didn't know Julia personally, but I remember seeing her walking around Telegraph Avenue in the early 1970s and also the early 1980s, times when I lived in Berkeley. I remember buying a book of her poems at Shakespeare's. I was way too shy to ever try to talk to her. She always seemed to carrying about a huge notebook, and wore a multicolored hat, something like a beret.
Check out Julia's multicolored beret here:
https://www.betweenspiritandstonethefilm.com/watch/trailer/
Great poem - this is what poetry is all about. (have never heard of Julia Vinograd ... until now. Thanks for the introduction)
I was there too. In those days so many things that were true sounded insane that it became easy to believe that many things that sounded insane were true.
Miss her. Luckily there is a photo of her in the hallway I pass by everyday into my office.
Hello Robert, I'm making a feature documentary about Julia. May I ask where you're based? If you're in the Bay Area, I may wish to film this photo for my documentary. Please write to me via the film website's contact page so we can discuss further, cheers:
https://www.betweenspiritandstonethefilm.com/contact/
have subscribed. must explore this lass’s work. am ferlinghetti fan and student of the times i grew up in. in england, on the oilybeach called south yorkshire, where tv news and used copies of it and oz were the only feed beyond returning travellers (so i became one, ohhhhh yes)
It reminded me of the truths, even though hidden, of the generation of the 60's
I represented England as a "New Wave" poet at the 1968 international event, Struga Poetry Evenings: Towards the end of 1968 I was invited to represent England in an International Poetry Event in Struga, Macedonia, Yugoslavia. I travelled to Yugoslavia with another poet friend Edward Pope, who was also from the Galaxy. We arrived in Belgrade the day after the Russians had invaded Czechoslovakia. The Yugoslavian authorities were very apprehensive about being next in line and the Belgrade police arrested me together with the writer Moma Dimic, as we strolled along the Danube at night (they thought we might be planning to blowup bridges). I was almost thrown out of the country when I turned up almost naked and covered with mud at the Gala night of the event to read my official entry, an erotic poem called "Our Dream". I still have an unpublished photograph of Moma conversing together with the poet Robert Graves, at his house in Ibiza.
What an adventure!
It sure was Maha, together with many others ...
I actually lived on Ibiza for a year back-in-the-day. I had finished my drugs-sex-rock’n’roll phase and was living a quiet, contemplative life at that point. That didn’t stop the good times, though!
Hi
From Tom Robbins' Another Roadside Attraction:
Amanda ceased sprinkling huckleberries into the yogurt bowl and turned her friend over and over like an old coin in the connoisseur fingers of her sight. “So you want a sign, do you?” she asked at last. “Jimmy, my ringmaster, do you think it an accident, a mere coincidence, that LSD became available to the public, was thrust into the consciousness of the West, at precisely the time of the invasion of Tibet?”
Nearly Normal didn't say a word but his eyes throbbed and widened behind the lens of his spectacles and he ran out into the frosty damp and never came back for his breakfast.
I am a child of the seventies. I could not remember Woodstock or other '60s music festivals. The activism was different as were the movements. It was a brighter side to all the darkness that ensued in Vietnam. I'd like to share an idea I had on the whole Woodstock cultural phenomenon. Thanks.
“Woodstock At Summer's Edge”
the white sea opened itself while sweeter waters hid other stars
fifty years ago, the rural village of Bethel was invaded by devices of
change
as the naked froliced in idyllic lakes, the flower power generation
had spread their sisterly love seeds
amplifiers re-tuned to hiss and soften the thunder as rain seemed to
saturate the whole culture
a bit of the dirtiness and loveliness too
we are made of dust and silver tears in dreams
green, pristine hills arch above the main stage
only to be transformed alive, under a breathless sunset
the faintest wind chases fever spirits for us tonight
fields so trampled, the colour of earth's mud tainted
war threatened the skies only applause could quell
seekers one, hundreds of thousands without legends or maps in
order to navigate the merry madness over the valleys
a story of a garden bares its secrets
to those who listen with intent
Oh yeah....
Passionate and truthful.
Truth sets you free. We shall over come some day. The drugs for pleasure are now for pain. What did the experiment gain? To know protesters who walk up Bunkers hill do get to the top, but are arrested not to be on tv but to be pawns in the media doup-soup. Spoon fed to millions wishing they could have been at Woodstock in the reign of response. Of good times of rock and roll with Janis Joplin and Bobby McGee.
Beautiful
i used to watch Woodstock on a loop and cry that i was born too late. i wanted to be a hippie in the 60s so much. being a hippie in the 80s felt out of step, but i did it anyway. this poem helps me see deeper into that time. thank you for sharing.