Jim Carroll, the catholic boy whose basketball diaries and people who died made poetry cool and tough (again) in the skinny-tie era, died Friday.
I grew up on his angsty kid stuff and loved his first concert tour with pre-Live Aid Boomtown Rats. Neither Mr. Geldof nor Mr. Carroll could sing, of course, but they sure knew how to put on a show. In any case, here's a more recent and playful sample of his writing, courtesy of the Catholic Boy site:
to be bound
or elaborate expressions.
snakes through our lives
so that it can be
Like it? Here's the backstory: when invited to submit a poem for an edited volume titled Valentine, Mr. Carroll simply circled words and phrases in the editors' query letter and rearranged them into the above poem. Valentine. I wouldn't have believed the story without seeing a scan of the letter. And, no, as a matter of fact I don't think you could get away with this sort of reply the next time you're invited to contribute to an edited volume.