Debbie from ExUrbanis made a good point the other day: in addition to American ex-pats in Paris during the post-war era, there were also Canadian ex-pats in Paris who contributed to the burgeoning literary movement. In completing this research, I came across one poet in particular that I wanted to mention, John Glassco.
Glassco was born in Montreal to a wealthy family and moved to Paris at the age of 17. His time in Paris was commemorated in his book Memoirs of Montparnasse, which was not published until 1970. While living in Paris, Glassco met other literary expatriates, such as Hemingway, Stein, James Joyce, and Ford Maddox Ford.
In addition to his memoir, John Glassco is remembered for his strong poetry, as well as his contribution to poetry and fiction translations from French. He's also remembered for his writings in another genre that I'll pass on discussing. Unfortunately, there's no much biographical information available on him, so I'm limited on what I can talk about. (Also, his poetry is usually reserved for official publications, so there's not a great deal of it floating around on the internet.) But ghere's something about his life that makes me think he was a bit of a lost soul, and that makes me sad.
Here's a small section from his poem "A Point of Sky":
That my regrets
May so shine before me
All the hours of my life
That I shall not sleep, and my eyes open
That I shall not die, and my heart beating
But shall remember always
The point of sky and the garden
The thing foregone and the thing achieved
So that the beauty of both is united
In one clear flame of longing.