Several years before Patrick died he began sending me manuscripts and documents, boxes of them. During a 2014 visit we discussed these a bit, then shifted gears slightly to my own collection. This is that short recording.
JP: Of course when I’m gone I’ve got stacks of raw material [I’m leaving behind] as well.
Patrick: Yeah, right. Waco, that’s where to send them.
Patrick: There’s a skyscraper there that accepts all of these things and keeps them. I think it’s Waco. Not wacko! He was there too, I think.
JP: There’s a…. In my, my trust, it says for my executor to gather these things up, bind them and print hard copies for immediate family members, maybe 100 copies or something, and give them to family and friends, and libraries, my high school, my colleges, and so on. Also, behind—all my closets are lined with cedar planks—I lined them all with cedar…
Patrick: Un huh.
JP: The newest one [closet] was when I remodeled the master bath: Behind the cedar planks, I stapled up batches of my poetry, just a bunch of poetry and a twenty dollar bill. That way I’m never broke! Of course, I have to rip my wall down to get to it. In another fifty years somebody is going to open up that wall and find all of this strange poetry.
Patrick: Yep. Well, I hope it’s on good paper.
JP: Unfortunately it’s photocopy paper.
Patrick: Yeah. Might fade out.
JP: But not because of sun exposure!
transcribed by Christine
I’m the son of Patrick of Meadows.