But when somebody on the East Coast starts talking about a rivalry between New York and San Francisco the truth is they’re trying to shaft us. They’re saying they’re the best. But I suppose we’re snobs, too.
Here in San Francisco we’re proud to be the opposition. We’re glad to be living on what New Yorkers regard as the wrong coast, with the wrong publishers, galleries, reputations. And damn the rest of them.
Call me old-fashioned, but I’m still flying the flag for the San Francisco Renaissance, all the poetry readings, mimeographed magazines, improvised galleries, experimental films. Of course, I’m just kidding around here. We weren’t—we aren’t—against East Coast success.
Consider Mike, with his East Coast awards, still one of us. He’s the real deal, though some of his poems, beautiful as they are, are a little too muffled for my taste. I’ve said that to him—and he’s okay with it.
He knows I think Partly Cloudy and Cooler is a great book. Mike is Indian, Indian from the subcontinent. He’s half Indian, to be precise.
Father was some kind of import-export guy from Bombay. Met his mother in San Francisco. Years ago, she appeared at a couple of Mike’s readings, around the time his poems were starting to pick up a following.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
