Poetry Channel #40
4/4/98
IN THIS EPISODE: Poetry Computer, Albuquerque Poetry Festival, Kenn Rodriguez' Couch, SF Weekly, Mysterious Mr. Clam, Adam Parfrey and Bucky Sinister, Jack Micheline, Poet Sightings, National Poetry Month, Borders Books Annual Poetry Sales, Andrew Carroll, Mouth Almighty, New Books by Hal Sirowitz and Charles Bukowski, Ken Waldman.
(Hey everyone. The Poetry Channel is back, much to my pleasant surprise. San Francisco slam host Charles Ellik sent a large post over the Net that I was in need of a computer. I was totally embarrassed at first; compliments and charity are hard to take, but the sincere generosity overwhelmed me. A couple dozen people responded, I don't know who, offering money and mother boards, but it was David Huang of San Jose who showed up on my doorstep the other day with a 486. He said his office upgraded. I'm still pretty stunned. Thank you, David, Charles, everyone. I'll try to use it as an instrument of good and not evil. Unless, of course, there's some really good evil going on.
When last you heard from me, I was in Albuquerque. The poetry festival was a smashing success but the crash-and-burn following the festival was intense. I was more inclined to kick ass than kiss it, but I feel much better now, thank you. My fangs aren't showing as much. The month-long moratorium on poetry readings helped, though I broke it to see the APF's newest sweethearts, the Sister Spit girls, and stop by the slam. Kenn Rodriguez is my hero. He let me sleep on his couch for six weeks, listened to me complain, he headed up the Poet Shuttle Service and took over the morning high school program when Marta Sanchez couldn't wake me one morning. Kenn's house was also the headquarters for the Poetry Motel. We had eight houses participating this year, including a Santa Fe branch run by our pal Joe Ray Sandoval. Thank you to everyone, everyone who was a part of the festival this year.
Jack Boulware wrote a twisted little article about Albuquerque, the SF Slam and the Naked Poets Series in the SF Weekly (unfortunately not reprinted on the Weekly's Web site). It was a good thing all the people in the article talk to each other; otherwise there could have been plenty of room for misunderstandings. My favorite part of the article was the strategically cropped picture of the Mysterious Mr. Clam in his birthday suit. Boulware called Clam "scarily well endowed" which prompted an exflame of Clam to write that back that Jack didn't get out too much. Nevertheless, Clam reports that he has had to beat admirers off with a stick since the article appeared.
Adam Parfrey had some admirers of his own in Albuquerque, including a Kinko's clerk who gave me great deals because of it. Bucky Sinister can be counted as a fan too, even though he took over Adam's stage time and knocked over a table of drinks on his way to the stage. David Kelley got it all on video. Greg Spoken War Stant drove down from Denver, read one poem and got in the car and headed back. Chicago poets Eirean Bradley and Eric Sultan decided to stay in Albuquerque; they already have girlfriends and a great deal on a room at a residential hotel. I especially enjoyed the Human Lamp during the Wordfuck show. It was actually Joey Firkin, of the twin masterminds behind the Mathrock record label.
Eileen Myles and Ellyn Maybe were followed all week long by devotees. We had a basement slam between Chicago/Texas, Albuquerque and San Francisco. Abq won. I was a judge for the first time ever. I didn't move out of the 9.7-10 range except to give Thom Stolmar a 9 for being a weirdo. The Superslam was won by Solis, second was tied between Kenn and Noel Franklin. Tom Harris, Joel Matthews, Paul Rueckhaus, Bowerbird and Mark Scheaffer were the backbone of the shuttle service, mostly helping me shuttle boxes of books from place to place. Frank Kozik made the posters, which was very nice of him. They were huge and ugly, and I think if they were little and ugly, I would have sold a lot more of them. He told me he didn't like poets; I should have listened. I dealt a little ugliness myself when I put together the program in a 12-hour stint at Kinko's. It was so ugly, I discouraged people from looking at it. That's what I get for not calling supreme program maker and (former) editor of Carp, Toss Weissenberger. Next year, too, there's gonna be budget to hire a flyer brigade because I froze my ass off this year sticking those posters all up and down Central Avenue.
You might have heard that Larry Capatani aka Devil James Greyhounded it to Albuquerque. What a jerk. The first time we met we nearly got into a fight, he was threatening to kick my ass and I guess we haven't gotten along too well since then. He did the same thing to Sini Anderson. Why anyone like that would travel 1,000 miles to crash a festival and still expect to be invited is beyond me but then a friend explained to me what a sociopath he was, and I thought, "My God, there's a word for it!" Plus, I hate his poetry. How he got an MFA is one of life's little mysteries. He makes a good rock star, though, and an even better jailbird (hopefully, when he faces the judge for beating up his girlfriend). I hear that at least two felony counts are going to stick.
It's been great to be back in San Francisco. I guess you heard that Jack Micheline died. His body was discovered at the end of the line by a BART train operator. Apparently a heart attack took him quietly. He got this fantastic obit in the New York Times but locally the coverage didn't come up to snuff: "Jack Micheline would never be caught dead in Orinda?" Ouch. He was sighted frequently in the Mission, mostly somewhere in the vicinity of Adobe Books. He was grumpy and salty and he loved poetry. I think Zeigeist Press was the last to publish him.
I just came out of hiding, but I've been running into poets all over the place in the past two weeks. I ran into Jeff McDaniel on a Muni car. Susan B. Anthony Willet-Summers of Team Austin was walking down Haight Street. Stephen Spyrit is housesitting down the street for the next month. Wammo was in town with the Asylum Street Spankers for two nights at a standing room only Café du Nord. I saw the glamour girls Tarin Towers and Beth Lisick there. (It was great because we didn't go to South by Southwest this year, so Austin came to San Francisco.) Vancouver beatnik Ralph Alfonso read a couple of nights ago at Poetry Above Paradise. His saxophonist ditched him to gig with Tom Waits, completely understandable I suppose. If Tom Waits called me, I'd drop my plans too.
National Poetry Month just started. What all does it mean? I haven't quite figured it out yet. I called Tom Bevan from the American Academy of Poets to find out what was happening. He said they are not too much interested in coordinating a national program. They want poets to locally create their own programs and let the AAP know what's happening so they can include them in their master schedule. This is a Republican approach, but I like it. (Someone who already capitalized on the timing was the Mouth Almighty Tour, which features Bob Holman, Maggie Estep, Sekou Sundiata and the Last Poets. But where's Wammo? Just kidding, I know where Wammo is.)
Andrew Carroll, right now as we speak, is traveling cross country loaded down with a Ryder truck full of poetry books published by Dover. He's going to give them all away. He's in DC on Friday 3, Gettysburg PA on Saturday 4, Zanesville and Cleveland on Sunday 5. Call (212) 274-0343 x15 for details. Andrew is the exec director of the American Poetry and Literacy Project, which was founded by Joseph Brodsky in 1993. Other dates include April 7 & 8 in Chicago; April 13 in New Orleans, April 16 in Austin, April 19 & 20 in Albuquerque and Santa Fe. Make him welcome and ask him if he needs a place to stay.
American Bookseller reports that poetry book sales actually go up during National Poetry Month. Borders Books pledged 10 percent of its April poetry sales to the AAP, which amounted to nearly $14,000. Now, if their sales increased by 28 percent during April? Well, this makes for an interesting math problem. It looks like, correct me if I'm wrong, Borders sells a million dollars worth of poetry annually. Hmmm, who says poetry doesn't sell? This issue is gone but not forgotten. I'll bet you Buk has something to do with it. This fact sheet goes on: "Each year, countless events take place all across the nation. In 1996, organizations from the Twin Cities area organized a day of poetry at the Mall of America. Major readings were held in Washington D.C., San Francisco and Miami. More than 1,000 National Poetry Month events took place in New Mexico alone. . ."? Wow! I had no idea. That means 33 poetry events are taking place in NM every day this month. Astounding! But you know what? It's also completely do-able. All you need is 11 poets going to three public spaces a day, declaring it a NPM event, reading a poem or two, then leaving. Ha-ha! Let anarchy reign. I'll stop there, but the most interesting fact is that the media covers poetry during National Poetry Month. Shame on the media for being herded around the Hallmark mentality, but I guess that any press is better than no press: "Hey, it's National Poetry Month, let's go talk to a poet." But all this activity is ultimately a good thing. I just can't help being, you know, difficult.
I have to go to work but the next Poetry Channel will feature the complete schedule for the Taos Poetry Circus. I'm still off-line. Until then, Margery Snyder is intercepting mail for me at poetry.guide@about.com. Thanks, Margery! And you know who's here next week? I could just scream. Hal Sirowitz! His second book, My Therapist Said, just came out on Crown. It's a $15 hardcover; the sales on Mother Said were so good that the house is sitting on the softcover release. Also, Black Sparrow just released the softcover of Bukowski's The Captain is Out to Lunch and the Sailors Have Taken over the Ship. It includes illustrations by underground cartoonist Robert Crumb. The hardcover went for $300, hyper collectors version, but this latest is only $14 from Last Gasp.
Oh oh, and I just got a card in the mail from Alaskan poet Ken Waldman. He and his fiddle will feature at the Paradise this Sunday. What a treat.
Okay, that's it. It's good to be back. Happy birthday to my greatgrandma Anna Martinez Rael, who turned 100 last week. No part of Poetry Channel can be used for publication except by permission. Thanks. It avoids getting taken out of context. Lord knows, I hate conflict.
xox
juliette torrez
poetry.about.com
Check out our feature on Poets Work (http://poetry.about.com/library/weekly/aa033198.htm), then drop by the Poetry Bulletin Board (http://poetry.about.com/mpboards.htm) to add yours to our collection of poets' dayjobs.
While you're there, visit our online wake for Jack Micheline, and share a poem or a memory.
