Tom Clark: Try to look upon death as a friend (Terence Winch)

No one who knew Tom Clark would ever deny that he was irascible, brilliant, generous, difficult, funny, erudite.  He was also immensely prolific—even in old age, he published his blog, Beyond the Pale, on a daily basis. BTP was a relentless illustrated catalogue—with scores of photos spanning the globe—usually revealing world’s woes and conflicts, often complemented with various texts he admired. He also wrote and published dozens of books of poetry and prose. His illustrious literary career is outlined here.

I felt really shaken by the news of his death yesterday: he was hit by a car near his house in Berkeley and died several hours later in the hospital.

We had met in person only once, back in April of 1978, when he came to DC to read in Doug Lang’s Folio Bookstore reading series. I have a distinct memory of taking him somewhere on the DC Metro.

We got to know each much better in recent years, mostly through emails. He liked my work and posted poems of mine from time to time in Beyond the Pale.  We had many exchanges about poetry, music, our shared Irish heritage, etc.  I am haunted today by his occasional references to the perilous streets of his neighborhood, where pedestrians had to risk their lives to take a walk. Indeed, he had been injured in an earlier accident some years ago. 

Here is what he wrote me in June on this very subject:

“Admire your getaroundability. Could never ride on any airplanes nevermore no!! Cannot lift right leg off ground. Get on bus impossible. Cross street a prayer every time, plus plenty straight out hate speech outa me, unheard by robo drivers on software cruise control. They never talk back. I set up in shooter stance w metal cane pointed like assault weapon, they smile and laugh and roar past w/o stopping @alleged pedestrian crosswalk!

Little known fact you probably won't believe or care why should you, but the stop lights here are "smart" - that is, have sensors to detect approaching vehicle, stay green for same, but green goes to yellow in 2 seconds (literally), if you're a ped, and if there is a more unliveable country on earth, defining living as having a soul, I want to go there, just to comparison shop - but I've never owned a credit card or a cell phone, have no i.d. and indeed no idea how to shop, so there might be a problem there, but no worries.”                    email from Tom Clark, June 2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tom will be missed and mourned by his many friends and colleagues. My deepest condolences to Angelica Clark, his wife of 50 years.

Here are two recent poems of Tom’s that I especially like:

Nocturnal Resolutions

Be opaque

Have no memory

Make no attempt to be understood

Stop suffering fools

Be kind to animals no matter what

Listen to the angel

Try to look upon death as a friend

Accept pain as the condition

Be more patient

Don’t turn on the light

 

The Edge of the Forest

Poems ought to have memories.

They should remember other poems.

At this moment the noisy city

has fallen quiet, and the edge

of the forest is abuzz with voices,

the voices of poems beneath the old trees

talking quietly about the poems that were

once here but are not here any longer,

remembering each other.

 

both poems from Truth Game (BlazeVOX, 2013)

 

Comments

[Grace Cavalieri]

I'm very glad to meet Tom Clark. It's never too late to join his club. More people will know him than did before. Something makes me feel he's just beginning to be known.

[lally]

best tribute to Tom I've seen, thank you Terence

[Eric B]

Thanks for this. He was one of our best writers. I'll miss him.

[Terence Winch]

You're welcome.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks, Michael.

[Terence Winch]

I hope you're right, Grace.

[Lawrence Welsh]

What a shock. He meant a lot to me, too. I always went back to him, and within the past two weeks, I had read his SLEEPWALKER'S FATE: NEW AND SLECTED POEMS, 1965-1991, again. My favorite book of his poetry, though, was LIKE REAL PEOPLE, from Black Sparrow Press. In that one, he squarely dug into his Irishness and he had those Chicago Irish relative cops on the cover. And I could never figure out why those Charles Olson scholars went crazy mad about his book on Olson. I carried the hardback around Ireland in 1999 during my honeymoon. It's still my favorite biography about Olson. Finally, it fills me with sadness that he died in Northern California. As a native of the state who long ago escaped, I wish he would have gotten out too. It's all just too much now. So, as they say, "May God have mercy on his immortal soul and let perpetual light shine upon him." He certainly was an original of the highest caliber.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks, Lawrence. I'm not sure if TC had sufficient resources (in terms of money & health) to move. Or maybe he was in his own way comfortable there, however much he railed against the traffic.

[Lawrence Welsh]

Of course. Yes. No matter. For what it's worth, I prayed deeply last night for him, and then I held a ceremony where I asked the spirits to look over him as he finds his way on his new journey. At this point in my life, I don't know what else to do. Since my mom was born in 1917 in Ireland, she went to a couple of serious, old-school wakes in Nenagh, County Tipperary. From the time I was a young boy, I listened with fascination about the ins and outs of those ceremonies. Without question, Tom Clark needs a wake. In my own way, so far out here in West Texas, I started one for him last night. Rest easy, Tom. Many blessings now for your new travels. We'll all keep reading your work. And thanks, TW, for your great work and all that you do.

[Michael Wolfe]

Our lyrical blogger and best Night Watchman. From my Bolinas archive of many years ago, I can close my eyes and see him still running the summer roads up to Pt. Reyes. Michael Wolfe

[Doug Lang]

Thank you, Terence. I am a great admirer of Tom Clark's work from way back in the day, as you know. I admired him very much as a person, too. He was a very generous man with an extensive knowledge of the work of his peers, which he valued tremendously. And I have deep nostalgia for the days long ago when it seemed to me (and to others) that Ted Berrigan, Ron Padgett and Tom Clark were the holy trinity of contemporary American poetry. My own love of his work might be measured by the fact that I've received more copies of his books as birthday presents than those by any other poet. I am hugely saddened by his passing. So, I share you sorrow at the loss of Tom. We always knew that these days were coming, but that is no help at all. Thank you for your perfect tribute.

[Terence Winch]

Doug: Very good to have your voice added here. Thanks.

[Patrick Hogan]

This was stunning. Tom Clark has been my literary companion for the last 36 years. I discovered him, actually, through his baseball poems( a shared love) . His versatility astounded me, frankly. Olson, Keats, Ed Dorn , Kerouac,the Oakland A's , Ritsos , he was rather remarkable in his breath. I cherish his books, am saddened by his death, and will pray for his family and for the driver.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks for your comment, Patrick.

[Dr. Earle R. Hitchner III]

I share the deep sadness expressed elsewhere here over the sudden loss of Tom Clark, a wonderful poet of far-reaching wit, insight, and curiosity. A poem I particularly admire from Tom is "Baseball and Classicism" (pasted below). As a native Philadelphian and formerly ardent Phillies fan, I recall through my late father's vivid, first-hand description (he was at Shibe Park with my grandfather) how New York Yankees pitcher Vic Raschi, nicknamed the "Springfield Rifle," pitched all nine innings in mowing down my Phillies for a two-hit shutout victory, 1-0, in the opening game of the 1950 World Series. The Yanks ended up beating the Phillies in four straight games. Tom Clark would probably have known all that. Eurydice would have known it too: going 5 for 5 against Raschi is no mean feat. As a poet, Tom Clark had a blazing fastball, wicked slider, and jaw-dropping change-up. I love swinging at his verse. Take a swing below.

BASEBALL AND CLASSICISM
by Tom Clark

Every day I peruse the box scores for hours
Sometimes I wonder why I do it
Since I am not going to take a test on it
And no one is going to give me money

The pleasure’s something like that of codes
Of deciphering an ancient alphabet say
So as brightly to picturize Eurydice
In the Elysian Fields on her perfect day

The day she went 5 for 5 against Vic Raschi

[Terence Winch]

Thanks for this comment, Earle.

[Dr. Earle R. Hitchner III]

In my previous comment I forgot to commend you, Terence, for a great BAP blog post on Tom Clark. All your BAP posts are fascinating.

You still need to publish a "new and selected" volume, Terence. Tom Clark published at least two.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks, Earle. I thought I had already responded to your comment, but Typepad may have made it disappear. As to a selected poems, I'd love for that to happen. Maybe someday.

[Dr. Earle R. Hitchner III]

On page A20 in the New York edition of THE NEW YORK TIMES dated August 26, 2018, Richard Sandomir wrote this 29-paragraph obituary for Tom Clark that included two excerpts from his verse and was accompanied by photos of Tom in 1972, his volume FRACTURED KARMA, and his "new and selected" volume LIGHT & SHADE. Click on this:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/08/24/obituaries/tom-clark-77-is-dead-poet-biographer-baseball-bard.html?rref=collection%2Fsectioncollection%2Fobituaries&action=click&contentCollection=obituaries&region=rank&module=package&version=highlights&contentPlacement=5&pgtype=sectionfront

The NYT obit ends with a few lines from his poem "Nocturnal Resolutions" that start with this one: "Stop suffering fools." No three words were ever more needed than they are right now.

Thanks, Tom, for reminding us of that, and this: a good poem never stops arriving.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks for alerting us to this NYT obit, Earle.

[Dr. Earle R. Hitchner III]

Normally I don't allow my comments to form a loose, ultimately fraying string, but I had to add this click-on:

https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/?pli=1#inbox/FMfcgxvxBjdGSZzHrQPVcjKTXpLwtmJH

It's THE PARIS REVIEW remembering Tom Clark, who for several years was its poetry editor. The remembrance includes a great anecdote from Malanga about the provenance of the wedding ring worn by Tom in that 1972 photo.

See what you've sparked, Terence?

I'm glad you did.

[anita cabrera]

Thank you all for remembrances. I have been searching for a poem by Tom Clark that I cannot for the life of me find. I copied it years ago and had it on the wall. It went something like:

No one hears
the insane screaming noise
stars make
while drowning their aloneness
in the high of
the truly deep

I have scoured some collections of his poems to no avail Does anyone know that poem, or am I confused (more than I admit)?

[Terence Winch]

Anita: I don't know the poem offhand, sorry to say. Here's a link to a cluster
of Tom's poems, some of which include star imagery:
http://jacketmagazine.com/21/clark-poems.html
Good luck on your hunt.

[David Lehman]

Anita, like Terence I don't know the poem you have in mind, but here is another winner by Tom:
https://blog.bestamericanpoetry.com/the_best_american_poetry/2018/08/tom-clark-reverdy-and-perelachaise-in-the-fog.html