I’m teaching James Schuyler this week and I was looking through an old folder and came across this flyer today. It’s for an event that was held at the Poetry Project in New York to celebrate the publication of Schuyler’s wonderful diaries, featuring a rather amazing roster of Schuyler’s friends as readers. I attended the event that night and apparently held on to the flyer for posterity.
I was struck that the reading occurred on March 5, 1997 — exactly 17 years ago today. It seems impossible to me that this event was 17 years ago. In my mind, I still think of The Diary of James Schuyler as a “recently published” volume.
Here is one of Schuyler’s entries about yet another March 5 — in this case from 1971:
“As beautiful a morning as ever was, as though the two days wind had blown something away and left — not spring, by any means: a kind of russet flash in this swept clean clarity. The plane tree looks as though it’s shedding its flakes and scabs of bark in the interest of a new nakedness, its upper trunk like a sinewy throat. Only the clipped privet, in which a few twig-colored leaves still lurk, has a dusty priggish look. Only at this hour of the morning does the sun shine into the garage and pick out the bright, artificial lacquer blue of Lizzie’s bike.”
— James Schuyler, March 5, 1971, 7 a.m.