Duncan, Robert

Play Time: Pseudo Stein (Second Edition)

San Francisco, CA: The Tenth Muse, 1969. Second Edition. Stapled Wrappers. (Bertholf A33b., p. 102-103). “At the beginning of this year, 1969, Diane di Prima (1934-2020) asked me for a book for her Poet’s Press series. “We need bread. Creeley and Allen gave us books and we want you to give us one.” No royalties and the manuscript of the book to be theirs to sell; those were the terms. Time had come and my payment for the existence of that remarkable Lady Pirate, our own (“our” here referring to a community I recognize in Poetry, fairly defined in Don Allen’s New American Poetry) Diane de Poitiers [sic], mistress of a scene within The Scene: they had me where they wanted. […] The Poet’s Press arises not from the milieu of universitys [sic], not from the marketplace of making the literary scene, but from the fortunes and misfortunes of Bohemia. […] For every regularity of my life, I recognize tribute due to those who live in the irregularities of cellar and garret, crash-pads and fanciful ménages beyond the Reality Principle” (Abridged Qtn. from “Preface: A Little History of This Edition,” by Robert Duncan [1919-1988]; found on pp. 1-2 of this slim, unpaginated collection).There’s a lot one could say about this one. We could draw attention, for example, to the literary-historical value of this pamphlet: for whenever the famed editor, Don Allen’s seismic anthology The New American Poetry, 1945-1960 is mentioned, it’s something worth noting. This is doubly the case as it pertains to the example here provided — one of the very few times where a poet included in that volume speaks affirmatively about Don Allen’s Linnean approach to structuring that anthology. Your Devoted VP-of-Operations here at TMB, however, chooses instead to draw our attention to Duncan’s cosmopolitan wittiness. Case-in-point: Robert Duncan’s decision to call Diane di Prima, the great Beat poetess (& publisher of the Poets’ Press), “Diane di Poitiers.” Duncan isn’t making a commentary on the city of Poitiers in Western France — a university town that once hosted Descartes and Rabelais; nor is he referring to an obscure English military triumph over the French that happened in September 1356. Instead, he’s using a tertiary meaning of the word, where it’s defined as “a fierce battle fought in close combat between troops in predetermined positions at a chosen time and place.” By centering this meaning of the word, we can further contextualize the language Duncan deploys later in his Preface — can more richly appreciate the denotative, as well as connotative web of Mind and History his language so artfully spins. He uses, for example, the word “tribute” — which, historically, was a “payment made periodically by one state or ruler to another, especially as a sign of dependence.” What does he say of Diane? He calls her “Lady” with a capital “L,” and he uses the language of “tribute.” “Tribute,” historically, was a “payment made periodically by one state or ruler to another, especially as a sign of dependence. What “dependence” had he on Diane? Here’s another kicker: the acknowledged dependence of the writer-against-the-grain on ‘the world’ that the underground press makes by hand. Duncan realizes that it’s the underground press — those “who live in the irregularities of cellar and garret, crash-pads and fanciful ménages beyond the Reality Principle” — whose heroic destitution made his life and legacy possible. That’s the reason for Duncan’s curious, playful choice to refer to Diane as he did: “Diane di Poitiers.” For all the Mimeograph Revolutionaries “chose” a “time and place” — e.g., their milieu, or era — and “fought in close combat” against all manner of opposing forces (whether cultural, social, or otherwise). If you think this sounds a bit like William S. Burroughs’ (1914-1997) totemic & legendary call for “TOTAL ASSAULT ON THE CULTURE!” — well, you’re damn well right, it does. Small-format chapbook in stapled wrappers: the [still quite elusive] Second Edition, preceded only by the virtually unobtainable First Edition, issued in a limited run of 35 copies. This copy -- the aforementioned "Second Edition" -- was issued in a [still-limited, though comparably larger] edition of appx. 100 copies. When asked about the Second Edition by Duncan's foremost bibliographer, Robert J. Bertholf, Di Prima told Bertholf that, while she didn't know the exact limitation, she was confident that less than 100 copies were printed. Delightfully rare for a "Second Edition," wouldn't you say? From the collection of Robin Eichele (b. 1941), noted Mimeograph Revolutionary & co-founder (with John Sinclair) of the Detroit Artists’ Workshop. Chapbook in stapled wrappers: the Second Edition (1/100 unnumbered copies) printed in Dec. 1969 shortly after the First Edition ([Bertholf A33a., pp. 102-103] of 35 unnumbered copies) cardinally appeared. In strong fine condition with only slightest shelf-wear & variously enunciated, near-microscopic instances of light bumping (& equally microscopic creasing) to fine-edges & corners of front, back covers & spine-edge; moderate-to-enunciated age-toning, rusting, & slight (though pleasurably contained) bleeding to staples at exterior & interior, otherwise pristine. Very Fine. [Item #6908]

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