Weird dream department: last night I dreamed I died and was promptly pressed into service in a kind of poet's community, everybody showing up from Bob Creeley to Charles Olson ("Big Charlie" he was called), Jack Spicer, Robert Duncan & many more. It turned out to be in a kind of bar where everyone was expecting to sing beer songs (Trinklied, the German tinkled in my ears) with unabashed & perpetual gusto. Everyone seemed to be wearing bearskin body-suits.