Greenwich Village, 1958
Just asked Ruby about Dylan Thomas and why she doesn’t include
him when she talks about the great poets here. Ended up in a fight because of
course, mothers don’t know anything.
He’s not a Beat, I guess, but who gets to
decide that, anyway? He lived here and spent time here, even though he’s not one of Kerouac’s circle. I think of him as "Beat" in a lot of ways.
But of course he isn't, and maybe that's a good thing? He grew up
in what he called an “ugly, lovely” Welsh town called Swansea.
Got married to a woman
named Caitlin,
beautiful, and I know she had to be strong.
They had a lot of rows but who doesn't?
It’s hard enough to be an artist, and then be a married one. And they didn't have a lot of money so they lived, well. Kind of like we do, hand to mouth.
He failed his Army medical exam and worked for
a film company during the war.
They had three children, two boys and a girl. I think
the first work he had published here was Portrait
of the Artist as a Young Dog.
I shared some of his work with Ruby like And death shall have no dominion and the play Under Milk Wood and she allowed he
was a real poet. She wouldn’t say he was better than Corso or Kerouac or
Ginsburg and I wouldn’t allow that they could come anywhere near him. So we
argued and then she went out, to take a walk, she said.
She’s
mad at me because I’m not who she wanted me to be. Or not giving her the family
she wanted or the life. I want to tell her I’m trying, but no one’s perfect. No
one can be. But she doesn’t care.
Even
so, I’m right about Thomas, though she can’t admit it. She knows he’s my
favorite:
“Though lovers be
lost love shall not
And death shall have no dominion…”
And death shall have no dominion…”
He’s maybe not
as “hip” as the Beat poets she likes, but his language stops you and carries
you, and I’d rather have his voice in my head than anyone else’s.
And if Ruby
wants to write, she should read him, I think, because that’s the only way you
get good at writing. I mean I go to museums and galleries to look at other
people’s work. That’s how you grow and learn.
Why am I telling
you this, since you probably already know it? I guess because she doesn’t want
to listen and you maybe do. If Sky pulled out Thomas’ poetry, she’d be all
ears. Or her father.
Still, I’m not
sorry I tried. One of these days she’ll go back and take a second look at Dylan
Thomas and all those poems will be waiting for her.
I’ll be waiting,
too.
--Nell Tabeata
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