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|March 23, 1984
I write this from my bed, sick as a dog. I’ve been here almost
a week with the flu. The worst part is, little writing is possible,
even correspondence. Thus, your letter still waits for an answer. I’ll
get to it, when I–if I–ever get up from my flat-out position.
In the meantime, no poems besides the ones I’ve sent are available.
I have lots of seed potatoes, but all need growing time. Can you send
only one to Howard? Got a call from U/MO Press: they’ve sold 600+
of my book, before the main advertising has started! And Mike Pride
(editor of the Concord Monitor) has read my book, likes it, and wants to
do an article on my (written by him)–interview me, attend my classes for a
day, take photos. This apparently does not come from the NHTimes thing,
which he has not seen, but only from his appreciation of the book. Or do I
have you to thank? More later.
A note from McNair about this letter: Howard is Howard Moss, poetry editor at The New Yorker.