18 October 2014

"all visual stuff"

before morning got light it raind. that made the day cool. sun's out now but it's windy. I'm drinking the last of the coffee.  it's cold too. & stew's thawing on stove.

I just finishd reading the Green Panda edition of d.a. levy's Suburban Monastery Death Poem. it's been a while since I read it all the way thru.  it's weird to read now that I'm one of those "golden agers" levy didn't want to become. kept making me think what he'd be like if he was still alive & what he'd be writing.

but this edition is more than levy. the goddess that is Bree publishd this. but she also illustrated it. it's as if she climbs into yr head while you're reading & pulls out the images we all make.

so it's still levy. but it's also Bree. & it shd be you & me too.  

I cd point out some witty Bree touches like what she does with "a beautiful set of jugs." but I'm not a critic nor a killjoy. buy yr own copy & roll around in it.





15 October 2014

"places as people" & other notions

I'm in mourning. like the unexpectd death of a friend the closing today of Blue Moon is like a punch in the gut. it wasn't the only reason I enjoyd visiting Las Vegas. I have friends there & savor some great restaurants.  it's a hub to get to many good hiking spots. but for the last decade staying at Blue Moon was a pleasure.  & it was a springboard for creativity.  in addition to my suite of poems written there the resort figures in The Book of Java & Century Dimes & Pennies From Heaven.




so when I learnd of its demise I had feelings the same as those for people whose deaths touchd me.  this isn't the first time.  I remember sadness on seeing the rubble that was my university dorm. recently it was difficult to observe the new owner of my parents' house completely gut the inside. places can be as important to us as people.

we still don't know the why behind this closing.  but I fear it's another in the growing list of places paying the price for equality. don't get me wrong. I despise the bastards of the rightwing who continue to work to deprive us of our civil liberties. altho I have no need to be married or have children I'm happy for those of my tribe who want those experiences. but with so many gay resorts & bars & bookstores shuttering I regret that a generation is emerging with no knowledge of some aspects of the richness of our history. I suppose in another decade we will be so homogenized in society we will be unrecognizable.

so let me be sad abt never being able to check into Blue Moon again. for at least it's balanced by the sweetness of knowing that I did live in a time when there were places just for me.





14 October 2014

Blue Moon (2002-2014)

owner John Hessling announced on Facebook last nite that his famous Las Vegas resort is closing tomorrow. I'm in total shock.




I first stayd there in jan of 2004. so many memories during my decade as a guest. between 2009 & my final visit last june I wrote the 13 poems that form "Blue Moon Suite."  I have those to help me remember the place. & a chunk of stucco workers removed before the 2013 repainting & a Blue Moon beach towel that just today I used as a sort of wrap during my nap.

of the many photographs I took there this is one of my favorites.  it's of Mario who is featured in the poem "Labor Day."




& here's the red umbrellas that appear in "Colors."



even my current profile photo on this blog was taken at Blue Moon by artist Christopher Bachli -- who workd the front desk.

I feel that the closing of this resort -- following on the heels of Inn Exile -- concludes a vibrant chapter of my life. it makes me sad.


13 October 2014

"Winter Garden"

waking to
colder
darker
I still leap up
check time
pee
but return
to bed
to converse
with corpses
plant next stanzas
take a selfie
of my soul

12 October 2014

as it gets darker & colder

I have less inclination to spring from bed in morning. during summer jumping up at 5:30 & starting my day is sublime. but on a morning like this it seems a challenge.

today I got up at 5:20. but I had a pee & went back to bed. it wasn't to sleep but to cogitate. I did close my eyes & soon I found myself on that sidewalk on Norton Ave in LA.




the pieces of Elizabeth Short were beside me. at first I didn't know what to make of it. so I allowd my body to rest on the sidewalk & my mind to be open. what I began to feel was the fear she must have felt in her final moments. it was overwhelming. then I began to wonder why Beth wd want me to share that. there was no clear answer but the fear began to subside.  I cd see her beside me but I wasn't afraid.

eventually I opend my eyes. I got out of bed & threw on some clothes. went outside to feed Kiddo.

I still don't understand this visitation of Elizabeth Short. but it was part of the realm of dreams. when I remember a dream I try not to dissect it. I'm not of the school which attempts to interpret dreams. I take them in the way I do visitations of the muse. to those of us meant to have such visitations that blessing is to be acceptd not understood.

& so this morning that faild to begin with a leap has already been rich. now I'll prepare bacon & eggs with Bolivian coffee.  when the sun comes out I'll finish the process of bringing in plants for the winter. abt a half dozen remain outdoors. there are plants which began as cuttings I brought back from LA & Fort Lauderdale & Palm Springs. inside they'll help me breathe thru the cold months.