James Stauffer


I met James in Redwood City, California through Marie Countryman. James is a great poet, great Beat scholar and great guy. We've become great friends.

James truly exemplifies the Beat spirit in the New Age. Simplicity, honesty, kicks, compassion, insight and understanding all in a very humble human guise. There is no bullshit here, just a great sense of freedom, warmth and fun.


Jack Kerouac


Jack Kerouac

At Big Sur James read some choice pieces from Kerouac's great eponymous novel. Jack cracked up at Big Sur but he also came face to face with his gods, his demons, his crazy friends, and ultimately himself. We made a pocket pilgrimage up the river and got trapped in the dense undergrowth. We never made it to the cabin. But we had The Book and somehow that was enough. "Listen to the goddamn words" said the Bard.

Wild Ginsberg rant that James had some kind of involvement in: http://www.mindspring.com/~sagriffin/ginsberg.html

Poetry links:  
 http://poetry.about.com/library/weekly/museletters/blmuse8.htm

Some James links: http://www.poembeat.com/about.html
http://www.poembeat.com/bigsur_sf.html
http://www.jackmagazine.com/issue4/credits.html

James Stauffer, Mark Bender, and I went to Big Sur, looking for the cabin where Kerouac lived the experiences which eventually became his great novel "Big Sur". The road from the cabin to the sea along Bixby Creek is no longer as Jack describes it in his book. It's wild and overgrown with vines and poison oak: impenetrable. Pilgrims beware! You cannot walk from the ocean to the cabin without chopping your way through the undergrowth. We never made it to the cabin. But we found the perfect ending for my film.


This Book Belongs to Everybody


The Cabin at Big Sur

RECHE CANYON
         by James Stauffer

Beyond excrescence of subdivisions at the
mouth, the canyon still rocks.
Nice old twisties, a tossable car.
Cruder, with front wheel drive.
Brake deep, pitch back axle out, aim for the apex
and floor it all the way through.
Time when everything is still
Green. Grass lush, the horses
shiny in spring coats,. Sleek.
Red of decomposing granite
Against green, against blue.
Black ribbon of road.
The geometry of Palm, drape of
Pepper, sinuous Eucalyptus.
Stray Cactus, itís all here, damn near
anything grows.
Out of the car the vegetation smells
almost too strong, rankly fecund. For
two more weeks.
Soon drying to summer.
The sun shines. Seat presses
Against the back rolling out of
corners. Half quick still.
Back to write it down, no notepad today
Before the return through cancerous malls
And MacDonalds wipes it all clean.
God is Great. God is Good,