i played a long shot and asked if he knew of swiss poets & poetry.
A little he answered.
Have you heard of Franco Beltrametti i asked.
Yes he said.
He said YES!!!
What are the odds of THAT i thought. i'm here at the Bus Station in Bridport in Dorset waiting for almost an hour for a bus to little ol' Weymouth and the guy alongside sharing a dilapidated wooden bench knows of Franco Beltrametti! In fact he's been to Riva San Vitale. We know the same references. We know the same names. Snyder. Kyger. Koller. Welch. He's met William Burroughs and Allen Ginsberg....etc...etc..
i ask him his name.
BERNHARD he says.
His name is Bernard with an "H".
My name is Bernard H.
Ha ha haaaaaa!
Such a happenstance.
What are the odds?
A chance in a million.
But chance is the nature of all connections throughout all of time.
Life is a chance.
To be born in human form is more than chance it is truly miraculous.
Synchronicities abound if we have but the eyes to see.
One vast Indra's Net of connectivity that touches and links everything.
There was an accident on the bus route on the road at Chideock. Thus all the buses were delayed and i ended-up sitting beside a "retired" poet who would not tell me his surname who knew of an obscure poet called Beltrametti as did i. We had also both published him.
This did not "happen for a reason" as some people like to think. i am not of that persuasion.
Life happens said Robert Frost.
It just happens.
Bernhard said he would email me.
We shook hands as he and "his" woman got-on the first bus out of there to Lyme Regis as they'd done enuf waiting and looked so wor(l)d weary.
And i was scared shitless sitting upstairs on a bus travelling at the speed-of-sound in the opposite direction to Dorchester a few minutes later.
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09 / 09 / 2015