New Poem: LITTLE STEVIE KEEPS ORDER AS THE HOUSE BURNS DOWN

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TRIBUTE TO RICK LUPERT--"Tired Dogs, Uninterested Cats"

Gerald Locklin poem points up something profound about local poetry scene.

I've been somewhat ill with bronchitis (the coughing-up-mucus-plus-fever variety) this past week.  And, as a consequence, I wasn't nearly in shape to consider going to the Cobalt Cafe's 300th Broadside reading last week (although in a different era, I was able to feature there and a broadside was created from my poem "This Poem is For Sale.").

I do remember five-and-a-half years ago when the previous Broadside anniversary reading drew so many people that the reading went on too late for me to go the distance--causing me to be reprimanded by Bowerbird Intelligentleman the following day on the CobaltPoets Yahoolist.

Here's an excerpt from the 300th Broadside announcement:
GERALD LOCKLIN [the featured poet]


Gerald Locklin is now a Professor Emeritus of English at California State University, Long Beach, where he taught from 1965 through 2007, and continues as an occasional part-time lecturer. A profile based on a retirement event was broadcast on NPR and is archived. He is the author of over 125 books, chapbooks, and broadsides of poetry, fiction, and criticism, with over 3000 poems, stories, articles, reviews, and interviews published in periodicals. His work is frequently performed by Garrison Keillor on his Writer's Almanac daily Public Radio program, is archived on his website, and is included In all three of Mr. Keillor's Good Poems anthologies.


_________________________________





POEM:



The Iceberg Theory





all the food critics hate iceberg lettuce.

you'd think romaine was descended from

orpheus's laurel wreath,

you'd think raw spinach had all the nutritional

benefits attributed to it by popeye,

not to mention aesthetic subtleties worthy of

verlaine and debussy.

they'll even salivate over chopped red cabbage.

just to disparage poor old mr. iceberg lettuce.

I guess the problem is

it's just too common for them.

it doesn't matter that it tastes good,

has a satisfying crunchy texture,

holds its freshness,

and has crevices for the dressing,

whereas the darker, leafier varieties

are often bitter, gritty and flat.

it just isn't different enough and

it's too goddamn american.

of course a critic has to criticize:

a critic has to have something to say.

perhaps that's why literary critics

purport to find interesting

so much contemporary poetry

that just bores the shit out of me.

at any rate, I really enjoy a salad

with plenty of chunky iceberg lettuce,

the more the merrier,

drenched in an italian or roquefort dressing.

and the poems I enjoy are those I don't have

to pretend that I'm enjoying.



~ Gerald Locklin

The irony is that the Cobalt Cafe and a lot of other current readings in town prefer non-Iceberg lettuce poems.  And maybe it's a good thing that I was far too sick to attend.

A shoutout to the website of SoCal poet Jerry Garcia.

No, he's not the late guitar-and-vocal legend of a certain Northern California band.

Jerry Garcia's another one of the class acts of SoCal poetry (involved with the Valley Contemporary Poets)--and if you haven't made his acquaintance, here's your chance:
http://www.gratefulnotdead.com/

Probably the quintessential quote criticizing me for not being a 100% poetry cheerleader.

"Everyone is having a great time.  Literally everyone....and you come along and take a shit in the middle of the living room."

 I just reiterated a pithy precis of every single time I've made poets angry over the last seven years--regarding things I've posted on Yahoogroups listserves or on this blog or (in some unfortunate cases) said at readings.

And I'm presuming that the anonymous person who fired the shotgun blast of the quote above is quite pleased to speak a version of the Truth to me--knowing that he/she (though I'm certain it's a "he") speaks for lots of wronged people (and as I've been re-learning, if I'm critical/questioning of others and they respond with anger and hatred, it's all my fault and none of theirs).

Eventually, we'll all leave the Earth behind and our poems will remain--to be evaluated on their enduring qualities when the specific virtues and sins of the poets writing them are long forgotten.

That should matter more than who is currently valued as the best-liked, harder-than-hardest-working, and/or most commercially successful person sitting in the musical chairs of what's still referred to as the Southern California poetry community.






.

The unauthorized review of Rick Lupert's WE PUT THINGS IN OUR MOUTHS.

Having been inside a glass house recently when G. Murray Thomas wrote a "you're not trying hard enough" review of my 2008 chapbook yellow tree red sky, I'll try to tread carefully.

For those who don't know who SoCal poet Rick Lupert is, this useful website will provide an introduction: http://www.poetrysuperhighway.com/

Continuing to speak neutrally, I can say that Rick, at his best when hosting poetry readings or performing his own work, has the kind of quick wit and ability to "read the room" that would certainly overshadow some alleged comedians.

And Rick, in recent years, has decided to take advantage of his professional likability and give readers a series of "how I see the rest of the physical world" observational poetry volumes.

In the past, this approach gave us the good, memorable "I'm in Israel" FEEDING HOLY CATS; now, it delivers another "I'm in Europe" tome called WE PUT THINGS IN OUR MOUTHS.

I now know enough about the craft of writing poetry to not say that Rick doesn't try (or try hard enough) when he writes his wry, no-longer-than-a-page poems (which sometimes depend on their titles for full humorous impact).

But it might be best for Rick to declare a moratorium on continuing his "funny travel poet" niche (or "brand" as the young people say nowadays) and consider being more consistently well-rounded in his choice of subjects (a recent piece on mortality he submitted to the BLUE JEW YORKER was quite funny and poignant at the same time). The on-the-road formula, loved by Rick's fanbase, may not seem so fresh here to those previously unacquainted with his poetry.

To give an example of one of the better poems in MOUTHS, here's a few lines from "Giant Wooden Shoe Couple":
Everybody already took pictures
in the giant wooden shoe at the first stop.
The giant shoe here sits lonely and unphotographed.

Maybe this second giant wooden shoe
is married to the first one and they just
work in different places.

Too often, there are two-to-four line poems that vary from flat to moderately funny--and depending on the titles to carry them across the finish line.

And there's not enough of the more serious pieces where Rick's gift for brevity works for the subjects and expands their emotional impact. Two of the best here are "To Anne Frank" and "Oh Amsterdam".

To be fair to Rick, he has altered his persona with the years to where he and wife Addie (a sometimes-supporting character in some of the pieces) now remind one of the younger George Burns and a smart, wise variant of Gracie Allen.

One just wishes, though, that he'll move on a bit from travel-as-subject and concentrate more on the everyday world and life as a suburban husband and father. Some of his best work--past and present--have come from these subjects.

Maybe someday, he'll again fill a book the size of WE PUT THINGS IN OUR MOUTHS with poems of that nature.

Links to articles about Los Angeles poet francEyE

An article by Al Martinez from THE LOS ANGELES TIMES in 2002, profiling FrancEyE, but focusing more on Bukowski: http://articles.latimes.com/2002/dec/06/entertainment/et-martinez6

A worth-reading personal account by L.A. poet E.Amato:
http://eamato.blogspot.com/2009/06/franceye.html

A fine summary of francEyE's life and career in poetry by Lynne Bronstein:
http://www.smmirror.com/MainPages/DisplayArticleDetails.asp?eid=10352

Finally, the LOS ANGELES TIMES publishes an obit, as of this past Sunday, June 21st:
http://www.latimes.com/news/obituaries/la-me-franceye21-2009jun21,0,1368352.story

Bonus link: A couple of poems of francEyE's printed on Rick Lupert's PoetrySuperHighway site--
http://poetrysuperhighway.com/ppa/ppa423.html#fp1