Ken Zimmerman
Memoir
True Stories You Probably Won’t Believe
Imagine
Imagine I was in New York City the night John Lennon was killed. After visiting with my folks around Thanksgiving, I celebrated my birthday on the sixth with my girlfriend Lisa in New Jersey, then caught a bus up to the city to visit my friends Bill and Karen. We...
The Night Timothy Leary Threw Himself Into My Arms
There was that one night when Timothy Leary threw himself into my arms— literally— and over and over again, too. It was spring term, 1988, and I was working hard on writing the poems to finish up my MFA thesis. But Kesey’s novel class was in the revision stage, and...
A Memory of Dennis Banks
Imagine I was in New York City the night John Lennon was killed. After visiting with my folks around Thanksgiving, I celebrated my birthday on the sixth with my girlfriend Lisa in New Jersey, then caught a bus up to the city to visit my friends Bill and Karen. We...
For Ken, Who Saved My Life
There was that one night when Timothy Leary threw himself into my arms— literally— and over and over again, too. It was spring term, 1988, and I was working hard on writing the poems to finish up my MFA thesis. But Kesey’s novel class was in the revision stage, and...
Walking Away: Some words for Ursula K. LeGuin
A Memory of Dennis Banks The death of the great Native American elder and leader Dennis Banks brought back to me the time I got the chance to meet and listen to him, and to sweat with him, as well. What a powerful man, and what an amazing experience for a young hippie...
Retrocausality
In conclusion, I might say that this funky and often tedious memoir work I’ve been busy with for who knows how long now— dredging through boxes of old journals mildewed and nearly illegible, photographs cracked and worn, blurred words and broken trinkets and solitary...
Don’t Worry About It
Ursula LeGuin died today. Though I’ve seen her read her works and speak several times, I met her only once, in 1988. For a few years back then, the What’s Happenin’ weekly paper, now the Eugene Weekly, sponsored a writing contest for poetry and fiction, which was...
Winning the Lottery
For Ken, Who Saved My Life In the fall of 1977 I moved to New York City, having dropped out of college to become a hippie poet along with my buddies Tony and Bill. We were going to start a new magazine of American surrealism, which we already called New Honolulu...
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