under the bay to Berkeley

the next day I met Kent Taylor at Civic Center & we took BART to North Berkeley.


years after Cleveland 

under the bay I hand'd him the Century Dimes & he gave them right back to me. easily the quickest transfer I've ever had. "I even pay my bills immediately" he laughd.

we were pickd up at the station by Jeff Maser. this amazing young man has establishd himself as one of the nation's premier booksellers. he has a stock in excess of 300000 volumes which soon I was wandering thru. it includes the holdings of Jim Lowell's legendary Asphodel.


thx to Jeff's 911 Camelia St broadsides this is becoming one of the important addresses in current American poetry 

Jeff showd me a copy of Dec. '70:Ohio with the original mailing envelope which I'd addressd to Paul Mariah. quite a surprise.

the 3 of us took a great lunch break at a spot calld Jimmy Bean's. when we returnd we were joind by Jason Davis. his Verdant Press occupies space in Jeff's warehouse. Jason handsets broadsides & chapbooks which reprint d.a. levy & present new work by Richard Krech & Thurston Moore. he's also responsible for important checklists of such poets as Russell Atkins & r.j.s.


/ 

also on this trip I was thrilld by hearing D. Travers Scott read from his new novel & by viewing "The Art of Richard Tuttle" at SFMOMA. & finally I saw an over-the-top performance by Patrick Michael Dukeman. some 20 years ago he was an outrageous theater student at Kent State. it was good to see that his flame still burns bright.

got in late last nite... errrr early this ayem

the impetus for my visit to San Francisco was to view "Sporting Life: GLBT Athletics and Cultural Change from the 1960s to Today." the impressive exhibition was guest-curatd by old pal Jim Provenzano at the GLBT Historical Socity on Mission St.


/ 

much new -- to me -- material. altho I was happy to see the only football card I own: Jerry Smith's.

after that Jim took me to SFPL to view "Out at the Library: Celebrating the James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center." many familiar faces in this exhibition. when I came across the Robert Giard portrait of dear James Broughton I had to have Jim shoot me with James:


, 

up up & away

to celebrate Tom Beckett's birthday
I'm flying to San Francisco this afternoon

back in a few

found photos

thx to Jean Vengua for introducing me to Square America.

the site is joyous.

my entertaining day

after yesterday morning's family calls & Melina-brushing I walkd to the college to see Nick Mangano's vibrant "Measure for Measure." during intermission Robert Nott remind'd me that we'd seen a production some summers ago at the other college in town. that one was so bad I'd totally forgotten I'd seen the play. but Mangano's modern dress staging is exciting theater from lights up till final fade.

from there I took a bus to town for dinner at Plaza Cafe. I walkd around   encountering a photo shoot at a local bar. then to the Lensic for the Santa Fe Jazz Festival. the performers were Tuck & Patti -- just weeks away from their 27th anniversary as a duo. early on Patti meltd me with "My Romance." abt midway she turnd the mic over to Tuck & exitd the stage. previously mute he suddenly blossomd as a deft comedian with his Wes Montgomery story. they are unique performers who create utter joy on stage.

back home I was determind to stay up late & watch the first screening of "The High and the Mighty" in decades. my boyhood memory of Jan Sterling's performance has always been strong. it was on American Movie Classics. when that channel began I was a regular viewer. they showd vintange films without interruption. but somewhere along the way its owners became greedy. they began to stop the film midway for a long commercial break. I stoppd watching. last nite the movie was interruptd abt a dozen minutes into it. I had no idea that AMC now is totally like network. as much as I wantd to see Sterling I simply cdn't watch her under such barbaric conditions. so I reluctantly turnd off AMC.

my well-read cat

Melina 

Santa Fe Art Fair

I've purchasd work at this annual event before   but I never go with that intention. I feel an obligation to support emerging artists but don't have the purse to be able to do so with the panache I'd like.

yesterday I'd finishd a yum Thai lunch with a friend & had a few hours before Lee Friedlander's opening. so I went to the fair. at the booth of LA gallery DeSoto I encounterd some charming little paintings of chairs. I thot they'd be a great match for my friend Billy who collects both art & designer chairs. when I askd abt them it turnd out that the artist Kelly Reemtsen was there. we had a lovely chat.

around another corner was a booth for Albuquerque's New Grounds Print Workshop. the one piece that caught my eye was a photogravure calld "Solace."



I noticd a young man who I presumd workd at the booth noticing me looking at the piece. suddenly I realizd he was the subject of the work. so I began talking with him & learnd that he -- Rob Thalmann -- was the artist.

well yes. I walkd out of the place with the print under my arm.

hell of a Bela

sometimes I wander yon & hither thru the ethers of the net like I used to do thru the shelves of Elyria Public Library when I was a kid. & sometimes I come up with the damnest stuff.

here are some old photos now circulating from a Passion Play of nearly a century ago in which JC was portrayd by the man who keeps Dracula alive:

Terminal Tower

Mother begins her day by reading 2 newspapers. & she clips as she goes. when I visit I have to get up early to read thru the Plain Dealer & Chronicle-Telegram before she gets her scissors out.

I'm one of the lucky ones who receive regular mailings of her clippings. last week she gave me the recent ones she hadn't maild yet. one was abt Cleveland's celebrations of the 75th anniversary of the Terminal Tower   my first skyscraper & still a favorite building.


, 

when I was a boy Terminal Tower was the second tallest building in the world. every time I went to Cleveland I lookd forward to gazing up at its elegance. in recent years a Cleveland building whose name I don't care to mention surpassd its 52 stories but in my mind Terminal Tower will always be Cleveland to me.

built in the late 1920s by the bachelor Van Sweringen brothers   the structure has been featurd in movies & famous photographs by Margaret Bourke-White who was once a tenant. on the nightstand beside my bed I keep this antique souvenir my parents found at a garage sale:


, 

reaching for Harlow

Todd Moore dedicates The Dead Zone Trilogy to "The Duende, the movies, and my wife Barbara."

in the first poem of the trilogy -- which Moore claims concludes his epic Dillinger -- Jean Harlow speaks to John Dillinger who reaches out to her:

  my
  hands get
  alllllllllllll
  tangled up
  in the
  moo
  vie
  light n dark
  get alllllll
  mixed to
  gether so
  that
  I cdn't
  tell
  which
  was
  which

this seems to me a particularly important visual. anyone who reads Moore realizes the significance cinema plays as both source material & inspiration.

so we have multiple layers at work. there's Dillinger attempting to hold the unholdable   not being able to distinguish light from dark   confusing reality with fiction. but there's also the poet feeding off the movies.

any work as vast as Dillinger has got to function on several levels. I've long felt that one of those was as a paean to the movies. I even wonder if Moore's honing of his lines from sentence to word to syllable is almost a replication of physical film going thru a projector to cast its image.

I'm not done with Dillinger yet. he keeps pointing that gun at me.

Blogoview question of the week

Charles Jensen asks his fellow poet/bloggers a weekly question. this one is which dead poet wd you most like to meet.

Charles names Frank O'Hara. my ship already passd in the nite with that great poet. so for my choice I'll go back a bit further to Hart Crane whose death came almost exactly 11 years before my birth.

I'm not sure if young poets read Crane much anymore. he doesn't seem to be talkd abt in the same way he was when I was a young poet. there is no denying his early influence on me.



* * *

not long after posting the above I went to the site of John Perreault to read the second of his Smithson pieces. what a surprise to find a photo of Hart Crane there...

dreamland

I'm not the kind of person who normally remembers my dreams. if perchance I wake mid-dream it may hover in my mind for a bit but often evaporates by the time I've brushd my teeth.

perhaps sleeping in my boyhood bedroom was magic. dreams were plentiful & rememberd. my first nite I dreamt I was visiting old friend Jean-Claude van Itallie. the next nite I was trying to write a poem. the initial line: "once a bird was caught by a line of poetry." every time I attemptd a second line I'd awaken or dream I'd awakend -- but soon wd be dreaming again abt trying to complete the poem.

on the third nite I was pitching a Calamity Jane script to a dubious Ellen DeGeneres.
the final nite's dream was abt a power struggle at a university library with cameos by everyone from my mother to Barry Goldwater.


as far as I know Aunt Sophie's trumpet vine in Mom & Dad's backyard had nothing to do with my dreaming but then... maybe it did. 

back from Elyria

. 

I can gauge my father's health by looking at his garden.

last year was tough. he was in a precarious state. & the garden lookd like hell. more weeds than plants. on this trip back I found Dad looking & feeling better than he has in some time. of course he's frail & now uses a cane. daily he copes with a multiplicity of insults to the body. but his spirit is inspiring. & he always looks forward. for his 87th birthday he requestd his first electric shaver & I was happy to comply.

& the garden is more handsome than ever. stately rows of tomatoes. perky peppers. cucumbers curling skyward.

I helpd him water   weed   rototill   hill potatoes   plant late peppers. one early evening as we waterd side-by-side he startd whistling. surprisingly to me the song was "3 Coins in the Fountain." that made me happier than I can convey.


, 

abt to shuttle

to Albuquerque
to catch a flight to Houston
followd by another to Cleveland :

visiting my folks
for a few days

much cents

took my penny jar
to Coinstar

total:
$13.13

lucky
change

have a festive 4th

neighbor Rita & I went to Fort Marcy Park last nite for the inaugural Santa Fe Community Picnic. we enjoyd shrimp salad   b-b-q   cherry pie while listening to Los Lobos.

this morning an older tradition is taking place. Pancakes on the Plaza. I usually partake because it feels so wonderfully small-town. but because we went out last nite I stayd at home & fixd banana waffles. will spend part of the day dipping into Leaves of Grass on the 150th anniversary of its publication.

thigh candy

movies generous in display of pulchritude are dubbd "eye candy." last nite I finally saw "Troy." when it was over I wrote a short poem calld "Brad Pitt's Thighs."

a fardel of frustrations

attempt to reserve a particular b & b for a 2006 trip :
already bookd.

stop at Sherman-Williams to purchase exterior paint for touch-up :
can't match the color "buckskin" w/o bringing in a sample.

pause at bank :
too long a line to bother.

finally   success :
visit to Desert Desserts in hopes a cherry pie is available even tho I hadn't placd an order   & it was.

out of the blue

I get an e from poet/actor Jack Ramey who I knew in Kent back in the '70s. he's bouncd around over the years. I remember in 1984 checking into The Royalton in NYC & who shd be working the desk but Jack. haven't seen him now in a dozen years.

he reports he's currently doing a Whitman performance which will play the poet's birthplace on Long Island on 17 july & NYPL the following day. he & his wife also are preparing a Whitman video.

Capparis Spinosa (which is not a philosopher's prank)

so I was reading John Latta's review of Joseph Massey & came across a reference to capers being nasturtium seeds.

there's always a jar of capers in my kitchen. but I never thot of their origin. nasturtiums   huh? naturally I did some googling & found an excellent site by Ben Alkire. he sez they are the immature flower buds of the caperbush.

for me the glory of the caper is that pungent stab to the tongue while nasturtium petals provide the nose with a jolt. in fact "nasturtium" means "nose-twist."

anyway all of this has made me feel terribly Marianne Moore this morning.

cactus blossoms

inside 



outside 

"blow out yr candles..."

, 

I placd a banana on Carmen Miranda's grave in Rio & a Campbell's soup can on Warhol's in Pittsburgh.

for my visit to Tennessee Williams' grave I brought along a candle -- thinking of the line from "The Glass Menagerie." you can imagine my surprise to find that very line on the adjacent grave of his sister Rose.


, 

(special thx to Garry Hawk who kindly drove me to Calvary Cemetery & then suggestd Crown's. I'm certain the hellish weather wd've prohibitd me from going to either via public transportation.)

the big swelter

St. Louis in the summer is such a challenge I understand why they sing the blues.

I stayd in a walk-up in an old guesthouse in the Soulard destrict. in the torpor of evening standing on the balcony outside my door I felt like Tom Wingfield doing his sililoquy.

yes when you wake up & it's already 80 & muggy it makes for a difficult day of sightseeing   esp for someone like me who insists on learning a new city by walking it. but one must endure that punishment to partake of the glory that is St. Louis.

let's start with the Grand Hall of Union Station. surely one of the most breathtaking structures in the nation. sitting in the middle of its beauty I began to weep. then there are the vintage homes around Lafayette Park which had me singing along with Judy Garland to "Meet Me in St. Louis." & Crown's Candy Kitchen is a delightful soda fountain of the kind I recall from boyhood. the BLT is abundant in B & the generous milkshake is brought to table in its mixing container.


/ 

but the reason I came to the dangerous ozone levels of St. Louis was for the opera. & I wasn't disappointd. Colin Graham has mountd a majestic production of Britten's "Gloriana." Christine Brewer as QE1 is a towering presence.

on the road again

my paternal grandparents lived in St. Louis when Tennessee Williams was a boy. the uncle who was my godfather was born there less than 2 years after the future playwright. in 1914 my family moved to Lorain where my father was born 4 years later.

but family history isn't the reason I'm flying to St. Louis today. the opera there is doing a Britten work I've never heard.

while I'm away allow me to suggest a piece by Wayne Koestenbaum.

suddenly I own riverfront property

after a bundle of sultry days summer officially began this afternoon with flare. a sudden storm -- complete with mounds of hail -- came & went with the kind of drama that makes this part of the country so beguiling.

the arroyo whose name I borrowd for this blog became a river. twice in my 11 years here that river has been a roaring monster. today's wasn't quite that severe. but it's always delirious to hear flowing water in my backyard.


/ 

naked poets

in a recent entry Charles Jensen wrote "I have been photographed naked."

my first nudes were polaroids taken in another century. I retain a b&w one of me when I was a grad student but have only a memory of a color one of me on a raft in the middle of Coburn Britton's pond. my best known studies were those taken by Bryan Ockert.

there is a long & noble tradition of poets baring all. among the photographs of Eakins are nude studies from the 1880s purporting to be of Whitman. they certainly look like Walt & if so wd make him a forerunner yet again.

I seem to recall numerous nude portraits of Ginsberg -- both alone & with Peter Orlovsky. altho I haven't seen photos of Frank O'Hara naked there are famous paintings of him au naturel by Larry Rivers (1954) & Wynn Chamberlain (1963). either Alice Neel or Sylvia Sleigh (or both?) paintd John Perreault naked some 30 years ago.

in 1971 William Como publishd a full-page nude of Gerard Malanga in After Dark. & in 1976 Gay Sunshine ran an interview with one of the great couples of American letters -- Jonathan Williams & Tom Meyer -- which featurd fetching photos of them by Guy Mendes & Nicholas Dean. (this was the same year in which Jonathan photographd Tom & I skinnydipping together.)

I suspect Gavin Dillard holds the record for the most nude studies. of course he achievd fame by giving readings without his clothes on which gave him the name "The Naked Poet" (which he eventually used as the title of his collectd works).

then there are those underground classics. the naughty one of Edward Field. & a series of Andrew Lundwall.

probably my favorite male nude poet study is the Joel Singer portrait of James Broughton which adorns "Song of the Godbody" (1978). James looks downright beatific with his arms outstretchd.

at one point I plannd a chapbook to be calld "Naked Poets." I was going to write a poem for every male poet I knew who'd posed sans trousers & in the style of that poet. after a single poem I gave up the idea.

happy fathers day

, 

the umbrella hanging from Spencer Short's doorknob

I see
only the handle
& presume
it's an umbrella

the poet
in the photo
looks askance

his lips
are generous

I presume
it's not
a cane

the poet
doesn't look
at me

but those
generous lips
do

& the umbrella
not a cane
hangs there
waiting
for the rain

dollar DVDs

a few weeks ago Bill Reed had an entry calld "the buck flick phenom." he wrote abt finding cheap DVDs in local stores. so I went to my nearby Walgreen's & there indeed was a bin of bargains. I discoverd several which lookd promising & have been working my way thru.

last nite I found gold. the disk held 3 episodes of Jack Webb's "Dragnet" from the early '50s. I remember the series from childhood. the first episode "The Big Crime" had a turn by character actor Howard Wendell as a Good Humor man. Howard's parents had a house only a block away from where I grew up. when he came to visit I met him & stayd in touch over the years.

& then in the final episode "The Big Girl" there was a scene-stealing bit by a young Carolyn Jones as a gun-toting blonde. this was so early in her career that the credits listd her as "Caroline Jones." she & her then husband Aaron Spelling appeard several times on the series (as did Wendell). in this part she was so obviously full of talent & so young that it was utter joy to watch her.

still life with orange pepper

, 

filming

so there I was on the curb pulling the paper out of its yellow plastic sleeve. the lead story was that "Rent" wd be filming on the plaza this ayem. so I ran to my bus stop. in town fake autumn branches had been wired to trees. nothing else seemd to be happening so I poppd into Plaza Cafe for eggs & hot cakes servd by Karen Webb (who is featurd in the recent doc "American Waitress: New Mexico").

Plaza Cafe is probably my favorite restaurant in Santa Fe. to me it's the heart of the city. today I sat at my usual small table next to the counter. sitting near me was dashing Officer Barnett of SFPD's K-9 unit. 2 tables away a woman celebrating her birthday was being serenad'd by a guitarist & singer (& this at 7:15 a.m.) as I was waiting for my check Karen came up to me. seeing a pile of money on the table she pickd it up & startd to go thru the bills to extract the amount due. "good thing you didn't have yr money in yr pocket" she winkd at me. it's that kind of a place.

while crew members were transforming the plaza I sat on a bench to write. across from me a visitor wearing a name tag identifying him as Lee Stein sat on a bench writing in a yellow tablet. he'd look up from his writing & smile at me writing.

I detectd activities around the corner so I walkd to the cathedral. extras were milling abt a bus with a Denver sign parkd where buses never park. apparently something had been shot while I was breakfasting. I saw equipment being movd back to the plaza. there I spottd Adam Pascal strutting around in worn jeans. he was joind by Rosario Dawson in a skimpy skirt & high boots. they went into their trailer.

director Chris Columbus scurried around the Palace of the Governors. Pascal & Dawson emergd from the trailer puffing on cigs. they met Jesse L. Martin. while Columbus was setting up a shot the trio walkd down San Francisco. they went into Starbuck's but came right out without purchase & window-shoppd at several stores. Pascal & Martin startd back toward Starbuck's while Dawson went into Collectd Works. she bought 5 books including a Milan Kundera. Pascal on his cell phone & Martin sippd coffees in Starbuck's front window where they where eventually joind by Dawson.

just before shooting Columbus read aloud from a book on Graucho Marx. Dawson put down one of her new books to pose with Barnett & his fellow officers. Columbus seemd everywhere -- looking thru the camera   constantly supervising details. before rehearsal he personally positiond extras. finally -- the shot: Pascal leaning against the nearly 400-year-old building playing guitar with his case open for change. between takes Columbus consultd with Pascal who in the next take lookd in a different direction. then it was time for lunch & I jumpd back on the bus.

face of the poet

the first thing I look for after picking up a new bio of a poet is the photo section.

so you can imagine how exciting the internet is for me. never before have we had such access to the lives of poets as documentd by the camera.

today I discoverd some delicious photos of Douglas Messerli.

this just days after enjoying a gallery of great portraits by Jonathan Williams.

mystery bird

2 mornings ago I was sprawld on my brick floor reading the morning rag. outside the glass door beside me a majestic bird walkd by. by the time I got my camera it was too far away to get a good shot.

it returnd today & I was able to get this (altho I fear by the time it gets reducd you may not be able to see the bird which is to the right of the yellow flower). not visible is the little white tuft that sprouts from its head.

abt a decade ago I got a pamphlet detailing local birds & became quite the watcher. but as often happens with such activities my dedication to it lessend & now I can't locate the book.


/ 

the whole world's a stage

went to town today for the matinee of a new work by a local playwright.

but the real theater came when I was riding the bus home. a woman came on dressd in plastic bags. her "dress" was a large black garbage bag. on her head was a smaller black bag twistd into a bandana. around her neck was a white bag in the drape of a fashionable scarf. & of course her belongings were in a black garbage bag purse. surely the most modish bag lady I've ever encounterd.

there are days like this

sadness infiltrates. Tom Beckett projects a sad edge on his blog. & Charles Jensen withdrew an elegy & went silent on his.

then the morning paper announcd the death of a local actress who kept on appearing in plays while battling breast cancer. we often chattd on the bus.

all the while that war keeps slaughtering people. no one wins there but Halliburton.

guess I'll go to the movies...

spanish broom

is in bloom 

pass the pipsissewa

the magazine announces: "Each issue of Court Green features a dossier on a special topic or theme." the premiere isssue featurd "film." I'm proud to be among the contributors.

the current issue's dossier is "Tribute to Lorine Niedecker." so the editors (Arielle Greenberg / Tony Trigilio / David Trinidad) are 2 for 2. I'm a slow & quirky reader so I haven't made my way thru it all. but I feel the need to call attention to the contribution of Jonathan Williams. the man's got the eye. he's got the ear. few in the past half century of American letters dare match his passion or panache.

o to have been buzzing abt the table when Col. Wms. broke bread with Lorine.

in search of Karl Tierney

there was a time when I discoverd the new early & championd those on the verge of fame. but as I age it's harder to keep up. everyone seems to write poetry or make movies or play in a band or paint.

or perhaps I'm lazy.

I know that when it comes to poetry I read less than I did. I don't subscribe to a single poetry journal. I no longer linger before the shelves of such as the Asphodel Bookstore.

so somehow I missd Karl Tierney.

the new issue of Court Green features 2 poems of his which knockd me out. so I went to the contributors notes to discover who he was. I learnd he had AIDS when he died nearly a decade ago. a search told me that he rode his bicycle to the Golden Gate & jumpd off. the slap that is discovery was followd by the kick of reality. I'm suddenly black & blue. but I need more. I must find more of this man's work. the notes say that a collectd works is seeking a publisher. I hope it finds one soon.

more noir

Roberta Teitel Zweig 

I walkd from Inn Exile (my home while visiting Palm Springs) to Camelot Theater (where "Sordid Lives" had its long cult run). I was early. I saw a banquette & sat. on the other end an attractive couple. we began speaking. she was a writer   Roberta Teitel. her husband a retired doctor   Morton Zweig. together they've just written a collector's guide/price list for Advertising Ink Blotters. we became pals for the entire festival.

Roberta once livd at Chateau Marmont. we had many Hollywood adventures to exchange. somewhere along the way I mentiond the Brown Derby near Hollywood & Vine where I always orderd the same thing: Cobb salad (which was inventd there ) & grapefruit cake. the next day Roberta brought me the recipe for the original Cobb salad which includes this great line: "a stunning mosaic of ingredients which are tossed together."

for me that also works for the festival. yesterday I mentiond some of the speakers. but the audiences were almost as exciting. there were representatives of Hollywood's past (Eleanor Parker) as well as present (director Phyllis Nagy). there were writers Michael A. Black (The Heist) & David Wills (Blonde Bombshells). there were a couple of veterans of Sam Fuller films: Michael Dante & Biff Elliot. & munching a number of Dove bars was the festival's co-producer Marvin Paige   longtime casting director who I first met when he came up to the table I was sharing with Lois Wilson & May McAvoy at that same Brown Derby that opend this entry.


with Biff Elliot (the screen's first Mike Hammer) 

out of the shadows

Art Lyons   the novelist who runs Palm Springs Film Noir Festival   likes to screen both classic '40s & '50s examples of the genre as well as later "neo-noir." this year's festival opend with an example of the latter   "Seconds." I always thot of this John Frankenheimer film as sci fi but am willing to consider it as noir. it contains Rock Hudson's finest performance & haunting cinematography by James Wong Howe.

films screend over the weekend were a mix of gem ("Guilty Bystander") & junk ("Guns, Girls and Gangsters"). several were the only existing prints of obviously rarely-seen work. but in additional to choice of films what distinguishes this festival is the caliber of raconteurs who speak after the screenings. wheelchair-bound Ray Bradbury has the kind of memory which holds even the minutest detail. it was nearly chilling when he decribd how he willd himself to become Melville in order to finish his stalld "Moby Dick" script. Mamie Van Doren rememberd Marie Windsor as a "hot chick" after rooming next to her on location. they remaind friends for years. Paul Picerni recalld when co-star Thomas Gomez sat on the edge of his bed during location shooting & tried unsuccessfully to seduce him. producer Stanley Rubin detaild cuts Howard Hughes forcd on him.

more manana.....



with Mamie 

Palm Springs

where James Dean drove too fast

where President Kennedy went to bed with Marilyn

where Ty Hardin slappd Robert Conrad (welllllll   at least on screen)

where Richard Harrison ran for mayor

that's where I'm flying today. I'll be taking in the film noir festival.

see you a couple of shadows from now.