Jack Spicer believed his poems were dictated from the spirit world
My Vocabulary Did This to Me:
The Collected Poetry of Jack Spicer (Wesleyan Poetry)
by Jack Spicer
$35.00 List Price
In the summer of 1965, the poet Robin Blaser discovered his friend Jack Spicer lying comatose in the poverty ward at San Francisco General. The forty-year-old Spicer had passed out drunk in the elevator of his North Beach flat a few days before and was wheeled in, without ID, in a torn and befouled suit. When an attending doctor suggested to Blaser that Spicer was just your typical middle-aged alcoholic, Blaser grabbed the fellow’s shirt: “You’re talking about a major poet.” This was certainly true at the time, and it is now. But then, Spicer was a dying poet. After days of fever and mumbling, he managed to shape what would be, more or less, his last coherent sentence. “My vocabulary did this to me,” he said.
These final words serve as an apt title for Peter Gizzi and Kevin Killian’s wonderfully edited Spicer
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