I'm late posting this. when I left the house Saturday to walk to the bus stop it was 107. why organizers decided 6 pm wd be a good time to start our rally is suspect. but gather we did. 5000 of us. hours later when I got home it had only coold to 98. so yesterday I was sorta tired & forgot to put up a picture.
here's Palm Springs. part of the 11 million disgustd by the president & his criminal cabinet.
in the summer of 1967 I attended Indiana University Writers Conference to study with Gwendolyn Brooks. at the concluding awards banquet I was surprisd & delightd when Miss Brooks announcd that I had won the poetry award. (this story was told in an article by Rasa Gustaitis -- who later wrote Turning On -- which appeard in Cosmopolitan the next year.) shortly thereafter I wrote the poem “On Winning a Prize" which I dedicatd to Miss Brooks.
to celebrate Pride month the city's original library -- now a museum -- has mountd an exhibition from the holdings of The LGBTQ+ History & Archives of the Desert. it includes my "Desert Paradise" displayd beside the actual resort mug mentiond in the poem.
this delights me for many reasons -- not the least of which is that we live at a moment in time when a cruel & hateful administration is trying to erase the histories of so many minorities. we must resist.
my dear friend Michael -- who I've known for more than a half century -- sent me a postcard which our mutual friend David -- who died in 2008 -- sent him from Leipzig in 1984.
here's some of what David wrote:
"I left Alex in Venice a couple of weeks ago enjoying the place like crazy. He shepherded me to Florian's for coffee just before I left, a place I'm happy not to have missed. (Alex was a high priest in some other life -- he has a natural feel for ceremony.)"
reading this moved me. to have these words from a great friend & travel companion after all these years saying something that perceptive means so much to me.
thank you Michael.
& thank you David ....
the poem:
"Summer Sunday in Kent"
written 60 years ago this is the best-known of my early work. in october 1965 I read it at The Cellar on the Kent State campus. d. a. levy was there & askd to see what it lookd like on the page. he immediately told me he wantd to publish it. it appeard in a 1966 issue of Marrahwannah Quarterly.
in the summer of 1967 I went to Indiana University Writers Conference to study briefly with Gwendolyn Brooks. at the concluding awards dinner she prefaced announcement of me winning the poetry award by reading this poem. one of the great moments of my life.
here is the poem as it appears in my selectd poems The Avalanche of Time (North Atlantic Books 1985):
the building:
I came to Kent in the fall of 1961 as a KSU freshman. I often walkd from campus to town & the railroad station soon became a favorite stop. I even took the Erie-Lackawanna from there to Hoboken in spring of 1962.
in a journal I kept in 1968 I tell of taking new friend Jean-Claude van Itallie on his first visit to Kent to "the pink railroad station" to catch his train back east.
I'm not sure when the station closed but there was a time in the late '70s when Kent Acting & Touring Company did plays there. & they produced a reading of mine. I don't recall if I read this poem then but I wd've been a fool not to.
some time later the space became the Pufferbelly Restaurant. after I left Kent it continued as a restaurant under other names.
this little wooden version of the building is on a console in my living room:
why have I postd this?
today is the 150th anniversary of the building's opening. Kent Historical Society -- which has offices there -- is sponsoring a celebration. if I still lived in town I wd not only be there but probably wd've insistd on reading my poem.
from Facebook:
upon returning from sunday breakfast with the guys at Billy Reed's I opend social media & found the press conference abt yesterday's bombing. our wonderful police chief Andy Mills askd us to support our community by posting something positive abt it.
was my birthday & I gave a reading at a local gallery. can't recall exactly when I gave my first reading but I suspect it was some 60 years go. this reading was poems abt art & artists done in chronological order beginning with a poem from 1962.
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| photo by Tammy Taylor |
last nite I saw a documentary abt Peter Bogdanovich. it brought back a pleasant memory. some years ago I was in the lobby of the Hollywood Roosevelt & saw the director standing alone. it hadn't been long after seeing the restoration of "The Last Picture Show." so I went up to him & told him I'd seen it & that the crisp print was beautiful & that I really enjoyd it.
he seemd pleasd. he smiled & askd "it holds up?" & I was happy to report it certainly did.
thinking abt that lovely moment produced a rush of encounters with film directors. I've seen Hitchcock & Wilder Welles & Fellini Altman & Godard. I've chattd with Truffant been driven thru the Hollywood hills by Sam Fuller been a movie date of James Bridges.
I recount all this not to boast but to fill with joy at my good luck. I've had one hell of a life. I've loved the movies since I was little. so I've not only gone out to attend screenings but have shared time/space with the people who made the films I love.
every 2 years the valley gets a major showing of outdoor art.
here is Ronald Rael's "Adobe Oasis" from this year's offering.
not long ago Lynda Keeler invited me to her studio to see her new suite of oil paintings "Between the Sun & the Moon." before I left I wrote a poem. I guess she liked it because when I got to her opening tonite at Janssen Art Space I saw that she wrote it out by hand on a wall between her work.
now that's a thrill.
when Alice Ripley was a student at Kent State I was a special collections librarian. I saw her in many shows on campus. & since I've always been a collector I had all those programs. so after her Cabaret 88 performance last nite I got to visit her in her dressing room where I gave her those programs.
the RFK Jr. hearings have put this term into constant replay. it had me wondering what it's origin is.
we have bats on property & they usually delight. abt 6 years ago I startd a poem calld "Nite Swim" like this:
little draculas
swoop down
toward pool
but
I feel
no menace
I simply don't know what abt bat excrement is crazy. I began searching. there is much speculation abt the term's origin. it seems to derive from "bats in the belfry" which traces to circa 1900. however that doesn't answer the shit element of the expression. there is "anecdotal evidence" that is dates to the 1950s where it appears in the US military. the OED has a confusing entry putting it at 1950 but as another term for "bullshit." others give credit to various writers & a cartoonist.
whatever its birth & precise meaning the term has a certain power & current daily usage concerning what's happening in Washington.
we have this fabulous series at the theater at our art museum. talent from Broadway comes to town to perform. & instead of that large theater space the stage is convertd into the kind of boîte I remember from years ago in NYC.
the other nite I heard Noah J. Ricketts (currently in "The Great Gatsby"). you may remember him from "Fellow Travelers." he's as good at storytelling as singing. & he was in a drop-dead suit.
& then yesterday I encounterd him in town & got a photo together.
the first big event of the year locally is our festival's award gala.
here's a photo I took of Nicole Kidman -- who gave the best speech of the evening.
