.MTYzOQ.MTQ0Nzg4

Dear Norman- I didn't lose confidence in myself as a creative man, but I did begin to believe that no one else would believe that what I was writing was of any value- + life became so difficult the only objective became that of mere physical survival. Norman Dec 8, 1969

-2-

Think that despite being fatigued and weighed down by your responsibility in terms of the children, there has been a period when you lost confidence in yourself as a creative man. Now you are seeing that this has never really been true but only that you have let your muscles slacken a little. If for no better reason think that you are writing some as least of these poems for me. It would give me enormous satisfaction to see you reassert yourself as a writer. I know it would do the same for both of your children.

P.S. I hate to disillusion you, but the poems that are now beginning to be published underlined: are formerly unpublished poems written 1954-55, poems that were rejected by almost every publication in the country. Henry Rags, editor of underlined: Poetry (Chicago), however, did publish two of the poems written at that time- "Occasional Intelligence by Radar" + "Lament"- the latter being about my first wife and my first daughter Jocelyn (Joy) Macleod (Harris). They appeared in underlined: Poetry for December 1957. I have a one track mind- when I am really writing, I am the writer all the time, I think and feel writing 24 hours a day. When I am teaching much the same thing happens, although I have written occasional poems while teaching during past years. But now I am engaged in three? activities: teaching, trying to take care of myself + my children, and writing letters + sending material to + for Yale.

Not much time or energy left for writing poetry/poems. Alas! Alas! The pigeon in the grass, etc,

In a letter I opened later, out of sequence, I saw that you had indeed given me permission to send you the copy of underlined: A Return to Pagany. Thank you for doing so. Sometimes my days get so balled up that I keep a little pile of your letters and open and read them when I can, as it were, have an hour with you.

My last letter in this particular batch was to you from Jere Mangione. His reminiscences of Kenneth Burke and Jack Conroy were particularly interesting to me. It has been some time since I saw Louise Bogan. She had had a nervous breakdown, I understand, a year or so ago, and is slowly recovering from it. If she does not answer it will be because of lack of strength on her part.

Don't let my silence ever seem to be indifference. It is only that I am trying to learn to divide my time so that I can use it with maximum efficiency. Already I am beginning to worry a little about whether I will get things done before we set out on the first of February for the Far East. With affectionate greetings,

Sincerely, Norman