flILL 1990 . Three Dollars $ 3 0 ENT A Randomly Published L. A. Journal of the Arts =#=/J

INSIDE: BUKOWSKI, GINSBERG, EDIE KEROUAC, IG.OR ORLOVSKllVICHSTEINIAN, & L.A.'s BEST POETS! - More John W. Hart III News! -Bye-Bye Bebop! After many John was the guest on DodgerTalk, years as the boheme headquarters of the K A BC Dodger Talk Show - a MOMENT the San Fernando Valley, Bebop dream-come-true for Ill and another Records and Fine Arts has packed small step I giant leap for poetry! their bags and moved on. Where? BY Well, Bebop is always everywhere! Owner Richard Bruland, who has MOMENT featured poetry and music over the years in his cozy used-record store and f me art gallery, took it all in stride. Rumors flew that the police IN THIS GODDAMNED ISSUE! But, in the Meantime, the CELEBRITY SIGHTINGS - following were occurrences of vital Many a star, darlink, did indeed ' chased away "those crazy arteests," BUKOWSKI POETRY! AND importance, so read them carefully ... receive the Moment as of late ... you but who really knows?!. .. perhaps FRONT AND BACK COVER! - Bukowski came out with got your Matthew Broderick with Bebop's time had simply come. Septuagenarian Stew! And a great Helen Bunt in San Francisco Tharkyou, Richard and Bebop, for GINSBERG HAIKU! book it is indeed. And happy 70 to ya strolling down the street happily the ~any , many ~emories of poetry BUK and happy anniversary, blah accepting a little bit of poetry: and readings, open mike nights, music, EDIE KEROUAC INTERVIEW! blah .. More importantly, we rapped Ken Osmond (aka Eddie Haskell) and good times. Long Live Bebop! withtheol' BUKattheraces. Welost said, "Gee thanks, I haven't read - Other books to check out - POETRY FROM - that day. You' 11 notice his unique poetry since high school"; and, ah, poetry by Daw1i Allred Viotto· artwork on the front and back covers Ray Manzarek, Ron Kovic, John poetry by Gerald Nicosia, poetry by THE CARMA BUMS! of this here mag. Doe and Dave Alvin (not the math Bucky Sinister on manic d press; - John W. Hart Ill came out teacher) all got a Moment at the new poetry from Zeitgeist Press GER.\LD NICOSIA! with a new book on and books press! tribute to Kerouac; and oh yeah, BUK bio soon!, and more... ' It is called Dugout Poems and it's hopefully Charlie Sheen received - Rhino Records held a Tribute JOHN W. HART Ill! about the whole Dodger season. the Moment we sent him after he got to Kerouac at Highland Grounds to Every game! and made baseball out of rehab (Charlie was quoted as celebrate the Kerouac record release. THE MOMENT MEN! cards and posters... Good job John! saying, "Drugs are a toboggan ride to Hundreds of people showed - the - The Carma Bums embarked hell!" Whoo, Charlie, what a rush!); place was jam packed. Moment Men LINDA KING! on another tremendous tour of Doug The Knott, The Enigmatic Lyden andBartno/werelisted on the words. S.A. Griffin, Doug Knott, Phil Bailey, and Moment Man Eric program of poets reading that night AND OTHER GREAT Scott Wannberg, Mike Bruner and Lyden all took pies and chatted w/ as "the editors of a controvers;at underground poetry magazine." Ha! WORD-WORKERS FROM mike m. mollett set out from the William Burroughs at his art THAT'SALLFOLKS SOUTH ERN Cl\LIFORNIA Iguana leaving behind but a trail of opening in Beverly Hills, thanks to also AND BEYOND! dusty words for the next crazy Earl McGrath Gallery; 0 u reading over the horizon and under attending the Burroughs event were co 8-27-90 - 10/2/90 the sun in this vast expanse of Danny Sugarman and Fawn Hall, ....'- 0 America . . Their send-off show, who didn't need a Moment as we had (.) Pressed again to go to press. Well, which included Ellyn Maybe and laid one on them at Cafe Largo u guess what, boys and girls? This mag Ron Maxson, was something like a weeks prior. (An interesting aside- I 'l'd de,;, >co a here in your hot little sweaty hands Grateful Dead show, complete with asked Fawn if she'd John W. Hart 0 may just be the last Moment .. ever?! space and drum solo ... Ill's book "The Found Poetry ofLt mO> Well .. at least for a real long time! Col. Oliver L. North." Needless to Sure, we do owe you an explanation. say, she was taken back by the tlASTURBATlllG It has to do with Belushi writing question, but admitted she saw it at Noble Rot at the Chateau Mannont, Book Soup: "I didn't like it at first- and it has to do with Jesse Helms it was such a sensitive subject - but "spanking" the Pope from behind, now I can see some humor in it."); MAKERS OF THE MOMENT - SPECIAL THANKS TO - Moment Man1 Mike Bruner and Verlaine shooting Rimbaud (or Bill Walton and Grateful Dead ERIC LYDEN! Sa~ lyricist John Barlow were given S.A. Griffin, Maria Abel, C.C. Lyden Rancho was it Rimbaud who shot Verlaine?), KEVIN BAR1NOF! Antonio Print Shop (Paul and Jack), Buk, Red, John and disposable art, and yeah, DaDa Moments a t a Dead s how by CHARLES BUKOWSKI Ambassador Bailey; other recipients W. Hartill, lgorOrlovskivichsteinian Dan "Conduif' and Max Ernst and Paul Eluard and bowerb;rd hitelUgentleman! included Harry Dean Sta11ton, • O'Connell - Pleasure Broker, Da:e Wharton, and World Wars I and II and J. H. lil and K.T. Dali and poetry readings and grants Harry Ni/Ison, Ringo Sta", Don Please send all inquiries to: Was,lggyPop,andLeonardCohen. and $ and mainly, weJl, god , - The Moment/Shelf Life Press, 22704 Ventura Blvd., Please include a S.A.S.E with all submissions. we're just so damned tired. #245, Woodland Hills, CA 91364. We got this L.A. Grant and we 're or call (818) 992-POEM. © 1990 Shelf Life Press deciding whether we want to become pOETllY a non-profit orgasm and get bigger aoori.l.lfE and bigger grants and blah blah. tstS) The Moment/Shelf Life Press retains reprint rights. All other rights for resale or republication are retained by the contributor. That's a big chWlk of it guys. THE CAR.HA BUHS 992- PO~ No S~at Belt s Tour of Hords 1990 2 BEFORE THE 7TH RACE, ONE MILE, $32,000 CLAIMER have carried this notebook all day at the racetrack and have written nothing. am now on the 2nd floor of the Pavilion, men's crapper, sitting here within these cool grey walls I find solace 5 in a common function: something at last to put to paper. CHARLES BUKOWSKI

TWO YOUNG SWEDISH HITCHHIKERS , PICTURED HERE IN A Ill VENICE YOUTH HOSTEL IJ

THREAT publish this poem motherfucking editor or I will steal your wife shit on your pillow and drive away in your car LARRY LEWIS NEON WARRIORS J ULY 4TH EVE, 19 90 last night hanging onto balcony hollywood Wftalking along downtown Geary St I 4 roomservice , _ a er a town hall meetin . went i send down a howl or two . . on censorship in the art~ to He walked into the bar .and stopped as you sit up for the TV out the window bit we stopped to give some mone bed Surveyed, and I .a. is ours tonight to a mother holding her sleepin~ baby too Downplayed, the words are flowing like mercury I as she squatted, shivering, drunk the talent in the room. the sleek sunset race I at an empty theater entrance. to He was not his own man is covering our room in neon s h a d o w Next door, Les Miserables had explain In fact, he was not a man at all. the deposit sent out to dry an hour earlier closed its doors the Well, he was part man the room tax in my throat on the last of its audience law and part armadillo. you on surfboard peak. . ('nd a couple of shops alo.ng of He was not his own man. i paris'ing over to the night hght .· in the window of an art galle ' pl~ce quantum But, there may be a hundred in line to take our Jos~ph Stalin was embracin ryg ' drinking tomorrow's CHILI for some Texan. but it's our show tonight · Marilyn Monroe, to no room left for growing up pal a IGOR ORLOVSKIVICHSTEINIAN no time left for us to look back he smili.ng.in his grey, braided generalr.ss1mo jacket, sewer the issue's gotta get out she posing as if the painter hole Orlovskivi~hsteinian,a poet and the maid'sa knocking at the doo rat. throw out the rope · T~~ ~~eh~ a camera. and the world~ MARKROKAS Romanian descent is an the elevator's broke was just a %~'a~u~~~~9f:~~eS~ and we're another year old today ... 1, a -.....,. Episcapalian Sagitarius who loves '$ s we walked through San FranCisco. water sports and Lucy re-runs. ERIC LYDEN 1( ACK HIRSCHMAN ..... FRANKIE KEROUAC - PARKER NUDIST LEISURE GROUP the sideshow interview ANNIE ARBY'S ANNIE, big buxsom and beautiful All the randomness of the cosmos Frankie Kerouac-Parker lives on the east side of Detroit, where she is currently writing her memoirs. Her late husband was Jack Kerouac. with long red hair falls together for one brief moment a sometimes addict staring down at your Philly Beef n' Cheddar and all the time alcoholic with horsy sauce Kerouac in Detroit to New York. We were only seventeen, eighteen then I started to read his books and dissect them. Kerouac: He (Jack) says in one of his books: and nineteen. We were kids. I think that I'm the only one who knows who all She loves Pat between other men bright gold foil reflecting back at you fights traffic tickets "If you took all the dregs of humanity and put The reason I worked as a longshoreman was of Jack 's characters were and what they really when you finally realize that them in a large basket and shook them up, they because I was one of the only people aroW1d the stays at the drug center did, and I'm trying to put that in my book. Allen and time in jail after all these years couldn't be better gathered than they are in area that had a drivers license. All the (Ginsberg) doesn't really know who all the for working the streets Detroit." longshoremen were shipping out. There wasn't people were, but that's alright. Allen's the one that Arby's Roast Beef When he and I knew Detroit, Lenny Bruce was anyone to unload the ships, so I went down and who got Jack published. It took him seven years. ANNIE tells how her mother Stands for R. B. (Roast Beef) here and The Black Bottom (a night club) was volunteered for the job. It was awful and cold. I If it wasn't for Allen, well, who knows? I have robbed her of her two little girls open, and there was all this great jazz. There were was working sometimes sixteen hours a day. On letters from Jack that say, "No matter where I go, and they called her, the Grandmothe J OHN W . HART III about 60,000 words left out of On The Road. A the docks it was common for me to find a or how I try to hide, Allen will always find me." She shows their school pictures lot of it's Detroit. shoreman who had shot his brains out. I used to And then he wrote, "I don't like the famed life and cries , "Aren't they beautiful?" go down to the warehouses to pick up my load that Allen wants me to live." her mother won't let her see them NOW TNts ts TNE School Days for delivery ships, and that's where I'd find them. until she is off alcohol and drugs ~ REAL ME. GAME 3 8 Sides/r ow: What kind of influence do you think They didn't want to go overseas. History When things get out of control ~-.;'· _ 05121190 - Los Angeles, CA - The Mets come into you had on Jack Kerouac's writing? Back then they didn't know that much about Kerouac: First we were friends, then we were and she leaves or Pat throws her out town and wallop on the Dodgers 12-3. The Mets had a Kerouac : Alot-ldon'tmean to soW1degotis- psychology. That's the reason Jack got out of the lovers, then we were man and wife - but most she stays with her homosexual brother • \j M~;:~:q . team meeting before the game and started with a fire in tical, but it 's true. At one part in his life he asked Navy. He didn't want to be in bootcamp. He of all, as I say in my book, we were never together "I've got to watch him,n she says ~ 'I \ .. the belly. me and Joan (Burroughs), "Should I continue to wanted to be a flyer, but he flunked out, so they in the hard times - so we were always in love. I "He goes down on my boyfriends ~~ · · _:..- , · play football and graduate, or should I do what I put him in bootcamp. He knew he could do more didn't realize how much he felt about me until I when I go to the market for beer. " ~~ -- ··--· ::::...... _' -=~- want to do, become a writer?" We both said "Be good as a merchant seaman than in bootcamp, so started to read his books, and I mean I'm in every WHY I DON'T LIKE a writer. We'll help support you, and we'll take he faked being nuts and got out of the Navy that damned other page - something I said, some- When she is functioning v SITTING IN THE BLEACHERS care of the house. Just write." If it wasn't for us way. The reason Jack knew so much about thing I did, something I wore, something I she tends the old and the sick having such faith in him, I don't know what psychology and stuff is that William S. Bur- thought about. We shared a lot of childhood fan- at convalescent homes Grade school children talk would have happened. I could have said, "Go to roughs had come into our lives and he had just tasies. I'm an artist, and I perceive things in and they love her, I love her ing non-stop exploding wet VERBS school and make money." I was living with him. come from taking instruction for two years from colors, differently than he did. I'm part Indian, everybody who knows her loves her sandwich bags and soda cup I was his common-law wife. I could have made Freud. He taught us all about self-hypnosis and and I'm very close to nature. I have the mother Pat loves her, he married her bombs spilled orange drink He has the word hin1 wash dishes for money, but I wanted him to what he had learned from Freud. That's how Jack instinct. That's what he liked about me. I have an he gives her opals on my jacket unruly childr it is wound up like a top write. It was a decision we made, and we went pulled it off. ease with life that Jack didn't. I think Jack had a which she shows to everyone en unruly chaperones let's or your blood pressure with it. You must remember, my family is weal- hard life. If you've ever seen Lowell Mas- and he hides her start a wave up for peanut you offer him adjectives thy, and we lived off my family's money. But we Neal Cassady sachusetts - factories surround it. Only two when his family comes s up for malts up for hot a lace ru ff at the collar still always tried to supplement the apartment. It Kerouac: When Jack wrote On The Road, he blocks of very wealthy people and the rest are dirt to visit from Chicago dogs cool a cools frozen s or a snippet of ribbon takes money to entertain friends. There was al- portrayed Cassady, but it was so unlike Cassady poor. nickers nachos with extra he has undone ways coffee in the pot. There was always wine. that I say- and I know- that it was Kerouac's Sideshow: Why are younger people attracted to LINDA KING cheese bad girls smoking a more than your life 111ere was always dope. Jack wrote, and he was alter-ego. Neal Cassady was so upset when On Jack 's work? f irst c igarette and cough you throw him a synopsis writer for Twentieth Century Fox and The Road came out that he wouldn't talk to Jack Kerouac: I think it's history. little league and boys clu adverbs Sideshow: Why not Shakespeare? bs girl scouts and "hey yo nouns Karma. He made money that way. I worlced as a for a year and a half - because it was not true. It (Linda King recently put out a book of her eoetry called That's too far back. u're in my seat" pogo down a heart ticks sweetly longshoreman. I did a lot of jobs. There was a war wasn't Neal at all. Jack wrote that he wished he Kerouac: "/Danced With a Man Last Night. " '. going on in those days. could be if he weren't so shy and introverted. Sideshow: Why not Hemingway? Nixon? the steps dropping peanuts you remember the color red He'dlike to be this character, you see. Suddenly, Kerouac: I don't know. What's real about lis- down the back of your pant as sound bites New York During the War after a year and a half went by, Cassady was be- tening to them? Hemingway maybe. There's a lot s NO BEER AND THIS IS ONLY into your memory/your brain Kerouac: Jack would go out on the ships and coming a hero. Everybody wanted to know who of charisma with then; (Jack and the Beat THE FIRST INNING. stuff when there weren't any convoys. It was this Dean Moriarty was. So Cassady became a School). I still think it's history. The Beats are all LAUREL ANN BOGEN dangerous as hell. We were constantly sending hero, and went on to become the character. When over the place. Two years ago Allen was teach- JOHN W. HART Ill supplies to England. There were U-boats going I met Neal, he was scared to do anything. He ing the Beats in China. It's their (all Chinese's) up and down the coast, and if you walked along thought that any time he'd do anything out of the idea of what America is, you see. It's all over the PALL MALL by barb Of1d billy the boardwalk, they were just as braze as brass, ordinary or different, he'd get slapped back in the world. l ~ STAt\JCE, FOR SEE THAT GL-ASS ? ... OF TOXI C>POLLUT~l> CITY just fifty feet out. We'd see them all the time, Ger- slammer. He thought they (the police) were al- Sideshow: Do you ever get tired of it? I CAN'T RE A~ IS IT HALF -EffiPTY OR HALF -FUL.. L? man U-boats. They were so brazen that one of ways looking for him. Cassady, to me, was a dul- Kerouac: No. Not really. It's just like you sit- THAT'S TAP-WAT ER THAT Wl~L­ THE PAPER THAT'S BE CAUSE BE HER . them, sunk by a mine in the Boston Harbor, was lard because he was so afraid to say or do ting down talking about your mother or some- ANYMORE YOU DWEL L.. ON PROBAB LY KIL-L-- hlE IF anything. I never really got to know him. I do thing. I'm thrilled to think I can contribute. The ) searched, and the search party found tickets to the WIT HOUT THE NEGATM: . \ 1 DRINK IT.' Boston Pops on several of the dead German sol- know Kerouac, and I know damned well that he pendulum is swinging back. So many people are GET11 NG TRY L. OOKIN& FOR I diers. It was so exciting, so dramatic, and so safe. would have loved to have been this guy making restless right now. I don't know. Every time I lec- [)E.PRESSE D. It was nothing to get up at four in the morning out with all these women all over the country. ture and people ask me, "Why is it that the Beats THE PO SITIVE (10 and walk, even in Harlem. He'd have loved that, but he'd never do it. He was are so popular right now?" I think, and I tell them SIDE OF THINGS . Sideshow: It was both safe and dangerous? scared to death. I know that (Dean is) Jack 's alter- that it's because they are the true free spirits. They I Kerouac: It was. We were safe from our own ego. It wasn't Cassady. still are. They do what they want. They say what \ people. Everybody had one thing in mind, and Sideshow: Did you ever discuss the character, they feel. I was one of the ori · als, not because that was to win the war. We used to go to parties Dean Moriarty, with Jack? I was a Beat, but because with Burl Ives and Hemingway. Jack was all over Kerouac: I didn't care who it was. I didn't read that's the way I was and 'Ifie Moment the place. There was a movie star everywhere you his books. I dido ' t know Jack was as popular as am. • went, but we never looked at them, we never he was until I went to his funeral and saw all these Reprinted with bothered them. I was from that sheltered joint, people from all over the world. I was shocked! I Permission from Grosse Point, Michigan. I was a virgin W1til I got was just going to my old husband's funeral. And Sideshow Magazine. 6 KB: I know my sister does .... money, being reckless, and smearing the names and quite unknown. His book was "Catch Her in EL: You have no sister. of others all over. Why do you hang out with us? the Sourdough ." It did well in the midwest and Munching at Musso's KB: Sorry. What redeeming qualities do you see in us? other such parts of the country. But not in the (There is a ve1y long pause of nervous laughter.) IO: Well, again, I hang out with you because you abortion belts, or whatever those belts are ... an interview with IO: Ah, do I believe in using vinegar? That's like are bitter and nasty, overweight men interested EL: Of course ... asking a man if he believes in God. only in making money, being reckless, and (Roberto arrives with dinner.) EL: You must ask yourself that? smearing the names of others all over the place. 10: And, well, Roberto, one of the rising poetic IGOR ORLOVSKIVICHSTEINIAN KB: I know how politically active you are. You Plus, you buy me dinners. Actually, your other talents in L.A. and elsewhere, has arrived with a are one of the most politically active poets in the ... redeeming qualities cannot be seen by me now, plate of food. Roberto, you are a masked talent. This historic interview was conducted at Musso & Franks in Hollywood, California on June 22, 1990. well, in the neighborhood at least. I remember because of the height of this table. Oh, and also Like a flower begging to unleash it's fragrance you did this sit-in. It wasn't exactly at the your hairy backs. I like dudes with hairy backs upon the world. ERIC LYDEN: Okay, here we are at Musso's, doing, because I really don't do any poetry, so it's Those are things that the highway means to me, Veteran's Administration Building. No, you and that's really why I hang out with you guys. (Roberto leaves, tears forming in the corner of with Igor Orlovskivichsteinian of Romanian de- really hard... (A waiter comes up to the table.) as well, of course, as orange bags on the side of went way past that .. . And because you are still providing a vehicle for his eyes.) scentwith us today. Kevin would you like the first I admire this man. What's your name? the road and a guy named Juan picking them up. IO: Ya, I was at the Veterinarians building... unpublished poets, such as myself, who will KB: Pass the horseradish. question? WAITER: Roberto. EL: Juan ton amaro? KB: You were at the dumpster in the back, in the remain unnamed, til publication of this interview. (After dinner, the interview resumes while the KEVIN BARTNOF: Uhhh 10: Roberto. I admire Roberto as a poet. The IO: Gosh you're an idiot. I'm sure it means alley behind the V.A., and I believe you were EL: Did you know that's my belly rubbing men smoke fat cigars and sit back in their chairs EL: With us today, with us today ... way he balances those dishes, the way his something to you guys. Or it means the same to vomiting. against your knee? rubbing their rotund bellies.) KB: Igor, may I call you Igor? polyester buns sway to and fro. Roberto is, I everyone. Or nothing to no one. But what do I IO: It was comfortable. I was making my own IO: Really. Well, it felt warm and fury. And, ah, EL: Igor, we know, how you loved the King, the IGOR ORLOVSKIVICHSTEINIAN: You just think, a .... If he's not a good poet now, he's care? You guys are just filth. Check please! personal statement you know. I pulled over, by the way, that's not my knee. King is your idol and how you collect King, ah did. probably going to be a great poet. A better poet EL: Okay vomited, and the media jumped all over it. KB: Igor, we heard you compromised your own Kingables. Why isn't the King in your poetry? KB: Poetry in Los Angeles has been through than a waiter, because he gave the salad to the KB: Okay Synchronicity. Makes you think. And I feel I was values and self-respect by reading at the LaDeDa KB: Dammit! some radical changes in the last five years ... wrong person. Perhaps a private, personal IO: Okay. Maybe, if we are lucky, we can get much better received than iflhad gone along with reading of Los Angeles. I'm referring, of course, IO: I really have too much respect for the King 10: In the last five minutes... worlcshop is in order, so as to cultivate Roberto's Roberto to read us some poetry before the eve- the throngs .. to that celebrity, vanity reading that is put on by to ever include him in my poetry. I've had a lit- KB: What do you see happening, and what part full potential. (Roberto smiles, eyes sparkling.) ning is done. KB: Is that thongs? You know those are illegal Mick LaLa and Evan Brillcreem. It was rumored tle contact with the King since he died and I think have you played in the movement? May I call it Ah, next question. Roberto nearly spills I gar's macaroni and cheese in Miami now? that you would only read if you were provided I'm just waiting for a couple more conversations a movement? EL: You can use hand signals when you're done into his lap.) EL: So this whole back alley thing was strategic with free Perrier, and could read after Florence to compile what will be a volume of poetry in- IO: You just did. with the questions. IO: It's okay I got it. on your part. You are an opportunist, a sen- Henderson and David Cassidy. Is that true? volving the King. As you know, I'm still work- KB: Well, er.... JO: Hand signals will be fine. How do you like (Kevin has the braised lamb tips and Eric is sationalist, a con ... EL: Is it? ing on getting the organs for Elvis. That's, of IO: I think we're all having a movement. First this one? served the Ravioli.) IO: No, no! Vomiting takes many months in the IO: No, that's not true. I think that the contract course, through our sister company in Irving, of all, I want to know if I'm getting paid for this, KB: Mr. Igor, in one of your poems, "You Guys IO: Thank you planning stages. One cannot simply vomit at stipulated that it was to be free Old English 800... Texas with the Knights of Columbus Foundation. I causer ve got a lot of overhead; or if rm getting Name It," you make a reference to "the high- EL: Thank you Will, or anyone else for that matter. As you know On the rocks. And not just one can, actually. At EL: Ah, to make a clone? a hand job, and-if so-who's hand will it be? way," I assume metaphorically.... KB: Thank you. Oh, my god, Roberto my tips I'm into many political tirings and situations ... least three. Yeah. (Licking his lips.) And I did KB: Or a colon, I would imagine? And will they be wearing gloves? I think I've IO: (looking to EL confusedly) What does that are nearly braised enough! KB: Too many to mention here .. stipulate that I read behind Artie Johnson and JO: No. Actually, you morons, this is to bring played a large part ... Sorry, Charles party of three. mean? (Roberto takes the lamb away, hips swaying and 10: Not really. I could mention this Florence JoAnn Woorly, as I would never read behind back the real Elvis. It's complicated. But, yes, I I think I've played a very large part in a lot of EL: Figuratively. eyes sparkling like silver pools in the moonlight). Henderson for State Senator thing. Our campaign Florence Henderson, as I will be campaigning for did love the King, as I know we all did. I just peoples movements. I used to be a Metamucil IO: Listen you pseudo-intellectual cryptic, fas- EL: Anyway, here we are at Musso's with Igor slogan will be, "Hey Let's Give the State Some her soon. We are very close, personal friends, and loved hin1 a little more often. salesman for so long. I was at the forefront of a cist fuck, if you don't start speaking English, I'm Orlovskivichsteinian conducting an interview ... Wessonality." That's the kind of tiring I'm look- have been for quite some time. KB: Isn't it true you knew the King long before lot of different movements. Now, I've taken a outta here. IO: It's as though no time has gone by. ing for. And, ah, actually, Florence and I.. . EL: You are romantically involved with he was even the King. He was kinda the Prince, backseat, if you will, to movements and just kind EL: Just go with it. EL: What do you see as the main differences be- EL: Flo ... Florence Henderson, admit it. the Prince of Rock 'n Roll. And even before that ... of watched them all pass before me, and, ah, yes, KB: What does "the highway" represent to you, tween poetry and pottery? IO: That's Ms. Flo to you. Well, actually, we JO: No, we are equals and have no preposition- JO: I actually knew him when he was the it seems a lot safer that way. Mr. Igor? IO: Um, density. talk a lot... and well, we leave messages on each al connection of any sort. We are not lovers, as shoeshine boy in front of the IHOP in Memphis. Next question. JO: Actually, referring back to my first answer, EL: Density. Concise answer. How about mass other' s machines, so I think she '11 go for it. has been rumored by the press many times. EL: Was Ann Margaret in that particular castle EL: Yes, Igor. .. it was not metaphorically, but metamusically ... . or weight? EL: Any other political stances you'd like to EL: What did you contract from Mick & Evan? to which you make reference to ... IO: That's Mr. Igor to you ... EL: Metamuciling or metamusically? JO: How about Massingale? mention to the poetry world. IO: This sore on my lip, actually. 10: No, I'm not sure if Ann was even born yet, EL: Right, to me. I'd like to thank you for com- JO: Go with it. And, ah the highwax as, as a plac. l Mi Juen 't they a comedy team? JO: I'm also a cheerleader for the United Negro EL: The one with hairs growing out of it? or even a fetus or embryo, yet, at this time, even .. . ing out here tonight. I'm curious what poets on to pick up some cheap food and ~atlln, 'f'y u : ~ ou are an asshole. ~~.o! College Fund. I go out for them. JO: Yes, white hairs, interestingly enough. It's It may have been Margaret Rutherford that you the local circuit do you admire? know what I mean. Ah, that's really what the Where's the waiter? I need s~~ I o'lt- EL: That may be censored. Is it true that you actually spread, and there's some gum abcessing think of, here, in this case. IO: Myself. I really only admire myself, and any highway means to me, ah, a place to pull off and versation. refused monies from the NEA? and pussing and it has not been pleasant. I've tried KB: Who was your favorite Darren? Was it Dick poet who says otherwise is a liar. I find that no pee on some bushes. You know, a place to get a EL: Well, do you use vinegar with your Massin- IO: I was actually the first one. Ah, they had of- to get Mitch and Elvin .. . see I can't even speak Sargent or was it Dick York? one is really doin the kind of poetry that I am really bad corned beef sandwich on white bread. gales? fered me $3.65 for postage. I can't accept that! I right. And, of course, I don't know which one IO: There can only be one Darren. It would have 1 ¥ - • can panhandle $3.65 in about 8 minutes, I said ... gave it to me. After all, how could I figure it out? to be Dick York, as he was the first Darren. But HllDPlll EL: Fantastic, we applaud you. EL: You can't dust for hetpes, right? what I always wondered was if they ever told 10: Bella Lewitzky thought she was first. I was. 10: Exactly. Well, not yet anyhow. Thank god. Tabatha that her dad switched. You know, one EL: Could you please spell that for the typist. KB: Next. Which hand do you wipe with? day she had one dad and then the next day she JO: That's Lew Its Tea. You idiots! IO: Ah, that is a very interesting question. had another dad ... Could really fuck a kid up. EL: This is a journal that I'm handing you right (Pause.) Actually, I try not to use my hands. (Tears well up in IO' s eyes.) now. (EL hands journal to IO .) It is edited by a KB: You know, Igor, a recent poll indicated that KB: Probably part of the reason she wound up man named Barney Raisin. It's called "In a L.A. poets are illiterate. Of the 2000 polled, 79% on the streets when she hit her teens .. . Pinto," and one reviewer called it "the heaviest had never heard of Edgar Allen Poe, 83% had IO: Wasn't that Buffy from FamilyAffair ... poetry journal in the world." It does in fact seem never heard of William Carlos Williams, 93% EL: Ah, but did you notice they were never to weigh about 2 to 3 pounds ... Any comments? have never heard of Walt Whitman, 100% had photographed together ... JO: It's heavy. heard of Danielle Steel, and 100% had not heard IO: Same person, eh? KB: Could it keep a door open? of Igor Ilovskivichsteinian. How does that make KB: Think about it. JO: Was the door already open? you feel, Igor? IO: My favorite Darren, to be perfectly honest, EL: (to KB) Was it? EL: You being Igor, of course. was Bobby Darren. KB: (leaning into the microphone) Yes, it was. IO: Of course, asshole, I knew that! That I am EL: Who was never photographed with Lloyd EL: Did we already say that? Okay, then let's go Igor, that is .. . I am Igor, you know! Anyway, I Bridges ... on to our next question: In the very first issue of think it puts me in wonderful company, and I 'I1u Moment, we spoke very idealistically about a think I'm going to repeat an old adage. You know------grass roots effort for creative people, and about a lot of people had not heard of F. D. Salinger, providing a vehicle for the unpublished poets, ah, Franklin Delano Salinger, you know... Poetry 1·s ed1· ble and and contributing to humanitarian and just causes. Now, however, Igor, we are very bitter, nasty, and :~ ~gc:i~:·t~~ewthat... su icide is painless. IO: Who was J.D. Salinger's younger brother,------"Please pass the mustard ... " "Next question." "Um ... " overweight men interested only in making SUMMER COMMUTE IO: Again, same person. ONLY IN THE MOVIES (BUS STOP 1989) EL: Okay, a quickie ... To e scape t he p regnant val ley "That old black magic has me in its spell.. . um, poetry groupies - with its l ining of hills and smog, That old black magic that you weave so well... " pro's and con' s? "THE SPIRIT OF ST. FRANCIS" they drive a heretic highway. IO: A lot of prose and a lot Yes, you whirl about me, (for Robert Newrock, 2) of ex-cons. There are so pure as the driven snow, many you have to beat Blind curve s are raced in braille bumpercars; reminding me of Don Murray "I'm the king here," he says them off with a stick, and lord knows I have a drivers nurse the impatient pedal, in the 1956 version. daydreaming at the unreal blue sky large stick, indeed. make the engines roar like caged lions. You weren't even born then, but, like him, above this million-dollar mansion EL: I appreciate your direct and candid answer. you are an innocent cowboy who has lassoed in Manhattan Beach - KB: . You know, Igor, Mr. Igor, you have a very the goodness in life and decided his paint-spotted black tennies nice rump. How do you stay so trim? Gasoline wind cools the beachgoers he will settle for nothing less than an angel. with holes in the sole and heel IO: Well, it's actually because I have a pos- who spill cheap food boxes, strips of tire and butts on display as he stretches on a chaise lounge. "Those icy fingers up and down my spine... sessed rump. It's been demonically possessed onto the wine cooler canal; (His new and better ones are in the backseat of his Volvo.) The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine ... n for, I believe, twelve years. As you both have they avoid thinking Robert Nevvrock, United States Marine Corps in Korea and Vietnam- seen, there are three small 6's within the inner of radiators that hiss Yet unlike that black and white footage, his body like the Rock of Gibraltar, crack area, just above the perineum ... we add techni-color, reverse our roles, never a shade less hard EL: I thought that a perineum was some kind of and the pasty crunch of metal. and with tarnished wings and halo, though his face grows craggier every day. rose ... it is me in the rodeo, on the chase. He's got women on his mind - IO: But, of course! So is my rump! Thank you Tires spread wisps of scalding rubber Like this city, we come to life suburban housewives, pregnant and with children, for noticing, and I'm sure all the prose and the when traffic bunches, like a blood clot; only in the movies and I dance they sprawl naked by the cerulean pool in his dreams cons have noticed, too. warm and red, people yearn with a rope in the Blue Dragon Cafe and invite him to paint bacchanalian orgies in their future EL: (to the readers) I gor, of course, was for a smooth stream to the ocean. while th ose lyrics continue to haunt me ... which only he can consummate and satiate - paraphrasing his famous poem "My Rump is a because "we wouldn't be here if it weren't for lust." Red Rose, So You Better Not Pick It." He also "The same old tingle that I feel inside.. . Robert Newrock, painter, preacher, athlete, made reference to the area of tissue that marks the The angry trickle off the highway, And then that elevator starts its ride .. . " sailor come home to success boundary of the outlet of the pelvis and gives pas- roll down ocean avenue I should have known better. with a tattoo that makes his arm big enough sage to the urigenital ducts and rectum. with the salty rumble My life was all planned out, to nail his beliefs in peace and harmony (Uncomfortable pause.) of groundshake stereos, and engines that moo. clear as a roadmap from birth, to a visionary cross, or raise a colossal sculpture the domesticated direction marked in red. called "The Spirit of St. Francis" It was just that after so many unhappy years as a guardian spirit over San Francisco Bay. Off the evil path, "I want the good life," he says. The "highway" they spill onto the bloodwarm sand I figured I deserved a change of course, "This is the good life." then I let myself be sidetracked by love and the cool babtismal surf. and I've been lost ever since. Then he talks to the women, the real ones. means to me ... "Give me that child ... I'll hold him up in the water TRINIDAD BIDAR (ALBANY) "And down and down I go, 'round and 'round I go, and someday he'll be a champion swimmer" - a place to pull off like a leaf that's caught in the tide. n but the little boy's afraid, Congratulations to TRINIDAD BIDAR, of Albany! No, you're different. You're so good and Robert's love is patient. and pee. at saying goodbye it seems rehearsed. "Just tell him to think about it for a while," Trinidad's poem was chosen from lOO's of others he tells the mother, and goes back to dreaming at the sky- after PHILIP BAILEY asked to have his poem removed . You don't try and talk me out of anything, KB: What is a l~bia, and - in your own words you don't even mention a place like Montana. he sees his island in Brazil, - how did it play a role in modem literature? Philip's stepping-down left a slot open and put we his 35 acres, his hermit's shack filled IO: I really don't know what a labia is. I do know editors in the tough position of making animportant I tell you I'm headed for Hollywood with giant paintings of the sky, the waves, the stars and you set me right back on course - that a Volvo is about 13 or 14 thousand dollars. decision, since this is a n e x c lusive and possibly and sometimes naked brown-skinned women who dig offer to drive me to the nearest RTD stop; his pidgin Portuguese. That's stripped. final issue of THE MOMENT. on your way to the city where the angels shop. EL: But there's always options. It's all too much to think of EL: (to readers) Let us pause while Igor wipes You did it TRINIDAD! "I should stay away, but what I can I do, in this little fenced-in yard the tears from his eyes, as he has just welled up. I hear your name, and I'm aflame... " in Manhattan Beach - EL: And then the last question. No time for discussion, that cup of coffee the maids are upstairs making lunch, I DON'T CARE IF YOU the women are leaving him - EL & KB: WHAT IS POETRY? that might change your mind. IO: Well I thought it was a claylike substance, HATE THIS POEM all he has left is the sunshine in his eyes This painted curb means unloading only - and he smiles because that one puts in a kiln, that is sold in different the weather's too good in Southern California. southwestern shops for about 400% over cost. The secret to finding love it makes him feel like a king. EL: Can you eat it? is to give up. I stand alone on the corner of a dream, IO: Well, sure. I don't think there is anything Surrender to solitude but when I survey the dark streets GERALD NICOSIA that is not edible. Poetry is edible and suicide is until you reach the point I come to realize that one can't even see painless. where you enjoy it the stars in these Los Angeles skies. EL: Any future plans for you or words of wis- and don't want "For you're the lover I have waited fo r, dom, upcoming movies or radio spots? someone in your life. the mate that Fate had me created for... " IO: I think I have plugged just about everything And then sure enough there is and that I can plug ... Maybe things would have been different someone you can't resist had I looked like Marilyn Monroe; EL: Except Roberto. will walk into IO: No future plans, no. The Florence Hender- changed my name to somethin.9 French and fancy, your tranquil little world something unpronounceable, unspeakable. son thing goes without saying. I also plan to write and turn it into a living Hell. some more unpublished poetry, with the hope Or, realistically, maybe things will work out that it never will be published and I will remain DAVID CURTIS just about the same and I'll pop enough pills, in obscurity, as I am very happy with that, and drink enough booze - get the nerve to call I'm sure you are too. 10 David Curtis is the master and hear you say goodbye just one last time. .. _, -- EL: I'd like to thank you, Igor, for coming out FEEB Productions. "Darling, down and down I go, 'round and 'round I go, of the literary closet and being with us. I'm in a spin ... n KB: Ditto. JO: Goodnight and god bless you all! • DAWN ALLRED VIOTTO 11 NACONDA Small town breaking the praireUne Wide street with a stop sign Like a cage without a key Corner caf e and a little time Like a tomb forever sealed Sit down and hear what's going around With the hand of a viking Dusty faces garner weather lines And the mind of a man Sod busters, working double time My thoughts go backwards to a fairy-tale land Strong hearts and narrow minds Where the fields are deals Feeding mouths, persuading the ground And the mountains are gold, There is hope in the summer sun My head, There is hope when the rains come down like a sound machine Good earth will answer the call. Tap my feet move to the beat John Deer carving the furrow line Dust cloud trails off behind In the corridors of my mind The farmer knows the row he hoes In the endless streets needs sweat and time And heroic defeats Harvest is afire in his mind. Like radio waves 1 There's hope in the morning dew. In the nightless days Love, greed and hope J There is hope as a point of view. Float in my mind There is hope Like beads from back in time When the courting's through Good earth The flow comes my way will give of her fruit Like a battering of beams PETER BURCKHARD But I won't budge They won't break through my streams ?, IGGY POP, DON WAS, GINSBERG, ?, PHILIP BAILEY DAVID ROCK TO S.A. AND ALL THE PARTS TO HE THAT MAKETH HIM WHOLE LIKE THE ROLLING OF I IMAGINE STANLEY OUR GESTURES TO MOVE AND WAVE ON PROCESSIONS WITH NO FLAGS, BANDS WITH A young British lad on his way to Cambridge and/or Oxford Years later I imagine Stanley in other lands; NO SOUND, SOUNDS WITH NO EARS AND PARTICIPANTS WITH NO STYLE...... Staniey wearing native headdress in Haiti, IT COULD BE VERSE you are the guy that took the invitation out of the last reunion for the old newcomers Partaking of wild voodoo rites, forbidden you decided that dicondra should be called grass To other white men ("No pictures, please.") I've never been lured by coke or hashish you turned all the sundecks and suburban outdoorsman into gas barbeques on display at the leave it to beaver museum I imagine Stanley hobnobbing in cafes with greats But I'm often compulsively OGDEN NASHISH, you created oil for prose and washers and dryers for poetry From 6 continents, holding forth on wine. And, compelled to compose, depending on the day, you were the guy that put the pop into the tarts I imagine Stanley at Olduvai Gorge you held the end of the rainbow while the floods rolled over milwaukee Discovering the first Pre-Cambrian razor. Something DICKENSON, PARKER, or even MILLAY. you returned your goods to new shoppers who had christmas on their minds for lunch And now I imagine Stanley being married, Powerfully possessed, in my poetic turns, you launched the first step towards running around the pools An unbelievable coalescence of cosmic principles. I merrily mimic BROWNING or BURNS. you rocked the stage of wordmanship and called it dinner 13 WIIlTMAN McGOWAN But I'll attain the ultimate, and you made brunch into suprer for all the late eaters and early consumers Full-bloomed and flowered, you took the bite out of politica maneuvering by calling it a sport for fools When I verse cosmopolitan, you were the guy that stood up in defense of all night grocery stores that don't take coupons Like NOEL, the COWARD. you fed the cat who wore no shoes to church and got kicked out by god DEAR SANTA you called art nothing and went on to the next question you made life livable for the c_at and mouse that burrowed into the_ back drawers °,f t~e maitre. de's apartment . a red hair'd fire eyed virgin you called home a sandwich m wax paper, a meal on the run, a friend who doesn t give you tickets to ball games or a nde vixen in devil'd dress around the block spoon snuggling temptress you gave me my first candle at the saxophone player's auditions who'll sleep on the wet you were the guy that told me about mercury in my coffee and poetry in the backseat of a four door volvo s p 0 t s you made the song sing in the early morning regiment of get up and call it all another mark on the headboard of sleeplessness and seduction SPENCER YAHNKE you called me over for a smoke you get it now? ONE DAY BETWEEN US ERIC LYDEN The Nostalgia of yesterdays ? Autumn comes to the loneliness Of today's winter. And I speak quietly within Myself recycling you. 1 Eric Lyden, a poet - One day between - J of Romanian descent, The greater depth of woman; i s a Episcopalian The greater emptiness Sagitarius who enjoys Of your absence 12 - One day between - water sports and Love the advent of life Lucy re-runs. And separateness the censure Of birth. - One day between us - TED PUGH c;;i Lyden laughing while Burroughs throws punch at paparazi THE HEALING A FAMILY OF POETS We were the wildest, man. Eric and Kevin We lived on cough drops and coca. dedicated The Moment We ran faster and harder than all of our peers to their Fathers Sometimes who seemed so satisfied by the latest pop song Football blaring, Eric's my brother My mother writes poetry or the crack of a bat on opening day. they console each other we shared a father I don't understand it Standing tall, counter cultured and all like old soldiers returning from battles lost, My father Eric does preferring the cool of the underground never realizing they fought their wars with pistols unloaded. "proof-read" The Moment I'm a lawyer to the harsh realities delivered on our doorsteps We were afraid of being young, He never understood it I look for answers each and every morning. we were afraid of being old, My father died Sometimes we were afraid of being with someone, 18 months ago We observed the players playing I find them BAD DREAMS, SWEET DREAMS we were afraid of being alone. The other day by ineffectual rules. I heard him talking Leaping from game boards But most of all, CHRISTINE C. LYDEN Hey, man, there's this monster in my head; Leaping from bed partners We were afraid that we would never It was quite startling either that or in my bed. His voice was coming turning tables achieve greatness in this world. With bone-chill hands she draws my clothes, turning clocks back out of my mouth sucks my fingers and my toes. When the storms were at their worst Somewhere along the way inevitably, turning on us. we used lies to wash away the panic Never loving, never caring, Complete with cereal box smiles I turned into with her lust she's never sharing. from each others eyes. My father as if being dissatisfied with one's life When our bodies had no heat Well, someone had to Christ, man, there's this monster in my head: was a basic human condition. we used lies to keep each other warm. Why not me? nipples hard as great steel pins, We took our lessons, and gathered advice And when our souls were hungry vicious eyes and shitassed grins. Eric and I but in the end we chose different tracks we used lies to feed them by. Blood appears across her mouth, for our trains to blow their smoke high. Until finally we had no more lies left to live. grew up together as her hand wanders south. Eating Lucky Charms Having spent, she leaves the room, In hell's hotel our pencils spat fire. The clocks on the wall seemed smaller then. and watching starry-eyed, and on her broom. burning through parchment Insignificant ticks, "The Brady Bunch" burning through us that talked to ears much older than my own. We went to private school Gone she is, until tomorrow, powered by passion with lots to go around. I stare up at them now. where she'll revel in my sorrow. And listened while Opened door, free for alls. I find myself much more appreciative to their demands. My father talked about Thus it is, I've often said: I am glad I have eyes to see. there's this monster in my head. Hands pounding, The Republican Party keys Jazzed with jungled rhythms A brain to think. and William F. Buckley KEN EULO Screaming wildly, with no apparent way out. A soul to feel. and even Hats were passed but shredded I no longer demand the stars Richard M. Nixon then tossed down to the curious crowd on the foggiest of nights I listened as LEEDING FOR THE LATE-NIGHT BUS who gasped in observance to this local blood letting I'm satisfied with the mist on my face. My father spoke only to engage in off track betting on which one of us Eric didn't I know it's the simpler things Sometime after one a.m. would fall first. a smile My father while waiting for the Fillmore bus It was as if Our souls had begun to ripen too soon a kind word was a lawyer the only other person around and sought refuge from their physical form, a warm place to sleep. I'm a lawyer was a girl in her late twenties Need I say more? who asked me for a quarter. We traded hot rods for rocket ships And on this cold winter's eve, My father never wrote poetry Fired them up and flew. I will drive my car under the beckoning stars She looked like she needed it but all I had And oh, how we loved to fly. perhaps a little slower than I used to. I have an older brother was twenty-one cents We soared. And I will engage the skies He lives in San Diego so I offered that to her Gliding eyes, He works in a hospital which she gratefully accepted and said, only when the need to romanticize wide with feelings. the moon light persuades me too. Sometimes he writes poetry "I sure wish you could come over to my place. Man, it was beautiful Sometimes he lets the world It's only a five-dollar thang. it was tender And when I return to the place read it What you say?" it was perfection in a picture frame where my lover awaits. I understand it I will kiss her deeply on the lips And even though I had five dollars, The earth was ripe and ready to be plucked, Eric I told her I couldn't do that tonight and I will stroke her pretty brown hair. The moon was big and bold and it called down to us. And I will breathe ... easily. edits "The Moment" and she walked off The oceans calmed when we came near. and other things down the unburdened sidewalk The strata begged us to endear For on this night, He writes poems as I sat on the curb_. we had front row seats to Sinatra I will find my salvation I read it all The concrete only got louder And the world was one big fucking open bar. behind a pair of steely blues sometimes with emptiness that smile down at me I understand it The only problem was, from behind the clouds. and I watched time crawl down the street no one seemed to know how to land. often like a Salvador Dali clock I don't painted with snails I watched silently, KEVIN BARTNOF as my friends fell like diseased trees Eric and I could've been bleeding to death doesn't eat Lucky Charms in some lost for gotten forest. Kevin Bartnof, a poet of RoJnanian descent and I wouldn't have known the difference. It was unreal with me anymore is an Episcapalian sagitarius who loves water I never watch The bus finally came it ws unmerciful. "The Brady Bunch" , ~ " I but in some ways I feel that it never has The agony fell heavily upon fragile shoulders sports and Lucy re-runs. with him anymore ,"\- ~Q~:-\ and I feel like a bloodless zombie with five dollars like favorite linens drenched with tears We buried our father co0-''o'4R-.? )\ gua~ding the empty spots of the world that will never dry. together t-.... \-\'S :J c..\\ f making sure And we were scared. •o But sometimes \]t:._\ ~ \ , \S\ \..v someone is around. to hear it exist We were scared of back yard barbecues 0 I still don't understand ?\<..t:._S\'v ~\..> . although there are no trees where I live anyway. where old men with oversized bellies "The Moment" hand out warm beers like war trophies oo BUCKY SINI~TER ' 15 NOVEMBER VE IT IS NOT ABOUT HOMOSEXUAL ART IN OHIO, 7 DIRTY WORDS IN FLORIDA, DO NOT RV.MO ABORTION, LIBERTY OF IF AIDS HAD FIVE LETTERS THERE MIGHT BE A CURE a chill season !Y & WE DON'T BURN OUR FLAGS HERE ANYMORE of separation and divorce stills a single star UNDER PENAL the 4 letter language of love illuminating the frost hobbles in on broken promises to the back of the as we feast this termination OF LAW dark room our greetings and closings where in the developing solutions But look! bump into each other I DON'T WANT TO HAVE victims are always caught with their they give us the dime store & steal all the bargains like neighbors SAFE SEX WITH YOU pants down in the funky bathroom with nothing my stomach is full of contradictions & they are all true awkward with the pulse better to wipe their asses with of intimacy & yes, I don't want to have safe sex with you than their hands it is true that we are all dying SHAKER erecting fences while the good neighbor is peeking thru the keyhole we stifle familiarity dancing madly backwards to the music of I've waited too long just to prove that with additional layers of habit righteous finger pointing and I want it all flying south on an awkward wind and the diminution of light now temptation is always just a sideways glance BY THE DAY OF TOMORROW continues at a flicker peering deeply into a premonition of fantastic fortune I want to live in a country where there are no our slow burn I want penetration as we all gave it our flags burning to warm the homeless hungry armies of Oby the day and natural friction best toss in the crap shoot LAUREL ANN BOGEN and bodily fluids it was just a game of not so invisible confederates calling long distance with the of tomorrow one-eyed theatre of progress I sailed to the beach that day like hydraulic love now I see me descending like a plague of walked down to the shore now I don't great rushing metal dinosaurs that day with my boat I want you to be on top don't you understand that I was grabbing the earth with their giant rusting behind me. and I want to hear you hysterically heaving yourself into me never deliberate jaws The bikers and skaters passed forgetting to breathe a part of my own spitting out the seeds & undesirable as I walked to the shore when you come time elements of faith that day. I reached I didn't learn about the birds & the bees until I the shore that day it is always doubt that sours the grapes of a good time I want you crying jumped into bed with them as we dumbly lift our glasses to toast and sat down for you mother scratching my sunburnt back she wouldn't suck my dick the future and got carried away. or your god because her lips were parched & dry greatest superhero of all comic book (I got carried or better yet &I flag waving fiction away by the deep blue. I for me was too we drink the bad wine with the twist off top & floated with the seals polite embarrass ourselves at the unholy orgy of the present and dolphins.) Each day not infinite to say otherwise I was freed. Soon leg humping & to tell the truth stumbling drunk dressed in the I was old and mutual masturbation suggestion is sometimes the greatest romance Emperor's new lampshades of fashion then fuck ourselves with the promise of love and grown larger than most truth yet still floating Foreplay is not sex in the upstairs bedroom among the coats & hats just because we can floating floating it is we became fictitious with the floating gone. only skirting the issue pulsing prodding Hollywood thing giving rise to we pasted on our Salvador Dali surfboards & rode the safe all stupid questions \7 KATIE KOCHENDORFER I want the & gentle mustache of love & we ask ourselves silky smooth skin of your cock twisting in concentric circles How can we believe we are better than the dirt? Young American Girl on my lips around not the bitter taste about S.A. GRIFFIN of latex & onto the great freeways of living S.A. Griffin was. once a radish fighting for the right to be I want animal noises we rode the crest of our own undeniable rhythms a free tuber durmg the Renaissance; upon spotting him, and teeth and fur yes brother! Leonardo Da Vinci popped him into his gaping mouth and and your mood to leave yes sister! his subsequent lives were never quite the same. marks on my skin we hung our ten tender digits upon the ugly waves of The End. and the sheets wringing wet poverty & homelessness & we became and the neighbors calling the cops unlearned before our own impotent eyes fading away beneath the kiss of the electric vodka and for you to be addicted that led us to celebrate the like me blinking winking holiday of everything not to revel in the shapes and colors BANA WITT but instead to glory in the exceptional biology that hangs in h closets crammed full of the anticipation of infinite Christmas mornings hosted by a living Christ unwrapping presents at his own birthday gig we all sing happy birthday then cut the cake & inside each gift is love to light the heart and warm the eyes upwards above the stingy smoke that steals December from the winter calendar of confectionary good ... KESEY'S LATEST BUS REQUIEM FOR BEBOP WHERE TffiS WORLD MEETS THE NEXT this can't be a total goodbye piece (Taos, New Mexico, 1989. For Scott Wannberg.) there is no way the blood can say goodbye to Bebop and Richard's flying academy of the The lady who had cancer obstreperous creative zigzag species of a heart that lives in Richard's flyers and wanted to write her life in a book the years have played havoc here no doubt and in the hearts and the thoughts of all of us clear and in memory of herself not easy to keep the doors of the merry go round goddamn lucky enough to have been able to had a husband long and soft as a noodle And meanwhile all our blood boiled away open feel this special city of a room this and a friend who talked dimension shifts and we were just several nice white ice people but you can feel the history and the space one and only moment of a way of being and easy travel to other planets smiling and joking talking the hoedown to your tired ideas of a sky goodbye then Bebop with the gleam of warlock in his eye out on a strange lark in the dark here in this room everyone has been everything but didn't you know while my stomach walked where the bones meet the air here in this Bebop of a tune the Bebop never goes the other way and This World meets the Next music and art and the indefatigable rap it just flows along here there have recoiled off the skin of the walls almost everywhere We were traveling poets DOUG KNOTT here in the ancient tributary of Reseda adios amigo recording the universe and the lady who had cancer took us here where the words bend and shout and romp the next drink is on me (Doug is the Knott.) and the rhythm of John Prine rock n roll out to see the Cross of the Penitents --$- • saunters you through the territory the men who beat themselves oh well SCOTT WANNBERG (6/19/90) bloody for Christ, the struggle will go on until we can't apparently by day. and it will go on past us (This fool has no teeth and his words got kicked in the We went out at night SOMETHING I ATE but for a time head by Jesse Helms for impersonating a burning flag.) staggering after a flashlight --$- --$- --$- lifting our legs for barbed wire the hours the days the weeks the months the years crackling thunder woke me all seemed in agreement · crunching on pebbles that SHRINE gave us away i dreamed cat/human bodies the best goddamn place to perform anywhere will climb fillet & piled 3 deep high anytime BEYOND SMOKE SIGNALS "It's spiritual Sand M," the lady joked a mountain to translucent grey mist chilled in the L.A. area with Freud's obvious modern lips my center my balance has been here This fire burns too brightly nervous on the irrigation ditch the air green dragons circled for hidden meanings, tired as death's reward shrieking parrot aped squawk this has been the home beyond the knowledge of home where This Wor1d black holes into the Next sighted as clarity this is where you hang your brain cells too high to be smothered eat the first ones first by the blankets in which we lie. In me the vision of the White Cross one light year this is where you let your spirit roar suffered itself backwards whisper within sky scripted eat the fresh ones first and now without an Entertainment License Our love is a beacon, and became a tree: ballad as if you needed a piece of paper to a bonfire of taboo, the truth is we don't know why SPENCER YAHNKE entertain and the spirits encircle us ... they beat themselves TED PUGH the heart will find its newer canyon we send up flares. Her friend the man who had been to other planets but we will ride out of this end of the village looked grim in his orbit ALONE with the glowing history in our blood DAWN ALLRED VIOTTO and offered no shade of the times we've danced here but he begged us speak They kiss at the movies. And you are with them. of the times we've asked others to dance here They're not necking or groping during the feature. we will go off to other wildernesses with our Thereupon we traveling poets always glib It's afterward tap dance and our paint brush and our words and ready for improvisation a tasteful, singular kiss on the lips but here is where the river merged made small talk with the gods, flying beings - in the lobby - loving, here is where the flow flowed and fish that walk affectionate. Adoring. because it takes a special sort of musician while wires hung out our faces naked You watch. Pretend not to watch; decide it would be less to inaugurate the right sprinkler system of hey in the night-forking wind uncomfortable if you just act like it's a happy-sight. because it takes a musician to name the hidden and all the invisible people embassies of mirth between the decked out 18 of the ghost towns of Northern New Mexico She shows you the engagement ring. weird of the day turned on their invisible TV's to watch us His head bobs. with the steely Spaniards who came before them Richard Bruland has been and will continually be At deli forever lost in these hills that rise a such a musician SAN GABRIEL MOUNTAINS/ they discuss honeymoon plans like brown fists from a brown ocean his heart has been this space because they want your advice SAN FERNANDO VALLEY and sharp-edged Indians that lie flat in the clouds and this time because you've traveled the world more than they. and this history The dinosaurs slumber through centuries with sudden arrows stuck in trees You dispense the advice well, the three ring circus is closing surrounding the great bowl Enthusiastically and the animals are all wandering off We poets were filled with hurt marks waves of emptiness where our wires hung out they hear the advice. but before we close the dream any further of progress of our incredible ignorance of what life was really about It doesn't matter where they go. and we all know dreams never get closed all the way lapping the sides OPINION in this night that moved sideways over the cliff Down one level of escalators. let us taste the afternoon's ramble of their giant bodies. They spot their car. Yours should be there one last time Seen from outer space At the end of the next aisle, but your car is missing. Lullabied for centuries is on your side the design was simple: here in the metropolis of Sherman Way and Reseda by endless music around the corner from the Canby St. bar where as you wave away the White Cross had divided us Your car is on a different level. I drank Wild Turkey one night after seeing Richard of: my smoke forever and the lady who had cancer You realize this. with your fat little Meltzer and Dave Smith on Academy Award night primal sounds and the man who had been to other planets They are inside their car. Two door slams. Engine. hand right here at Bebop. It was the night Duvall won ancient sounds and the husband like the noodle Tires squeak on shiny subterranean pavement. best actor for Tender Mercies. Indian songs your butt might cause danced before us like flapjacks I later matched Meltzer with the Turkey and Spanish songs eye cancer on the stone forehead of Stonehenge You go down one more level on the escalator. talked about William Fau Ikner mechanical sounds in rats more dangerous and moved to the other side of the gambling table There's your car who was a writer who found place and time and sounds of years than my camel cigarett and gambled on us poets Just where you left it. spirit very very important to his mythmaking whose eternal rhapsody JOY BUCKLEY revealing who they really, really were It's easy to spot it now because it's parked there ah, the stores they do ride the air way ..... serenades them in their sleep. in their nightgowns all naked Alone. a round then for a time and a space and a history as they blew by this portable Hill of Calvary \9 TOM BOLES in their motorcade of wind NEIL LANDAU ANYTmNG TO GET INSIDE DIRTY LAUNDRY MY HERO THE STING Please peel me. peel me, let me get briefs shirts panties pants My Hero! inside. The courage to see you isn't there, socks & shirts Elvis lives like an orange. like a fast car. like Did you love me, He made that movie run laughter. hidden in a pile under the bed I have to know. John Lennon told me so peel me soi can the truth. a bedroom visitor The drinking, TO SUBSCRIBE My hero lives on pure ranges of crystallized beliefs like a snake on her second skin, like not supposed to be When your face, TO THE MOMENT, JUST and the lines for his movies have jumped on his face and gone a baby out the womb. under the bed In my heart comes to view, SEND US: Face it · peel me like a laugh. like a pair of hurry & try to wash it hide it throw it Becomes sad, jeans so tight that - $10- next 4 issues out window the window won't tell My windshield wipers keep his beat Violent, like my thighs after i'm free. $18- next 10 issues or will it My clocks tick to the Elvis god when i take my clothes off i'd like to The fear of we were just fucking, explosive motes of dust I like that constant irritation that really gets me & the movement, continue by pulling away layers of 22704 ventura bl, #24 singing off-key in the light & dirt It really gets to me my skin. In my bed that night was just sex, Elvis, do you know how much you mean to me? No love, woodland hills, ca the Enquirer digs it up with BOLD captions i want to know what it's like at the The mortally wounded star bleeds through his love No tenderness, POLITICOS LAMENT THE WEB OF FLIES core of the earth. 91364 while the failures cling like rats to his lifeboat of soul peel away the light. like a fake nail, After years of never hearing I love you, risky business dirt laundry It's gone in the blink of an eye, Won't you let me on Elvis? like a slug's a snail hand in pocket with hole to skin of future without his shell. like a broken, & the armor I wear now is tight. white line of tell-tale grease John Wayne saw the stampedes too milk gone bad. I kissed someone yesterday, feels good but could headline TROUBLE He saved us from those dreary days, those angry cops don't embalm the mummy before & knew I'm no good right now. INTERNATIONAL TROUBLE WITH HARRY while we like grazing cows look up as his car speeds by he's dead, take that gauze away & fucking anyone right now, & George Imelda & Manuel at home Who was that masked man Lassie? and watch him spin. spin like the Would hurt me inside, can't get rid of the body Though I have the need to hide in someone, I had been tied to the tracks of my own endless train of thought earth and peel away the clouds, the ~ body in closet but now But would my heart hurt someone, oceans, and trees, the houses, the • body & ground Elvis Like you hurt me, people, wrapping me in silence My hero what's it like at the core, away from Did I hurt you. closet doors open I heard your songs rock beneath the seas the sun? I heard you cried the night, My night still rattles from the reverb of your great electric twang peel me like laughter and let me underwear there skeleton We almost made love, skeleton in closet peel layers from my skin I have to see you, I am still parked at an empty drive-in theater. when i'm undressed. so i can see in old glass closet of rubbed wood The film was so heavy that I couldn't get through it Before my heart hurts someone, looking in we're lucky the dark. so i can close my eyes I never knew butterflys could sting. my car dangling dangerously over the cliff. skin gone. open. papers of history in closet with dead villagers peeled by laughter and a ten RAFAEL ALVARADO thirst in fists money in veins draining MIKE BRUNER minute egg, peel me gently and flooding the rainforests in fire close my eyes, READY! AIM! FIRE! Mike Bruner is a comforter of potential has-beens who anything to get inside. Color by Numbers! finds it difficult to be honest around desperate see: LAUNDRY neo-humans. Reproduce the fo llo wing f am o u s p aintings by fillin g 1n the numbered area s with the11 see: section S for smut (smelly smut) RACHEL LOEB corresponding colors' Un utted by H om age to the Square Study by I look at my face in the hamper Barne tt Newman by J osef Albers Ad Reinhardt I see pimples of the past & future there's a race on my face I think in numbers and know black from white. I don't like all of it This is where I come from and there's always human race course an absolute. I wish to bloom, as in feel real life! some people love dirty laundry I still look around and all I see is all my peers LAUNDRY SELLS still in black and white. TELLS SMELLS THE ENGINEER 1. Orange 2. Yellow 4. B lack HELLS BELLS 2. Ye llow 3. Darker Ye ll ow 21 20 Quick! Wash it! wash it away into the streets under the bridge in water into water falling squeaky clean & perfumed socks shirts short for panties sheets QUAYLE MIKE M. MOLLETT Mike Mollett- "native L.Alien baby-boomer bashing still sweet/irony in face & loving it." He discovers ants (fire ants) crawling on a typewriter and follows them to the nest to meet the Queen. She's strangely alluring and does not need sex. Everything is brought to her. Mike PRESIDENT survives adventures such as this often. (This bio was mailed from Murphy, CA, the Gold Rush ''He's not an idiot. He's misunderstood'' town where Wounded Bum's Tribe firstout-of-L.A. gig is to be.)

; 1990 David Corrado ART IS ANYTHING IN THE HOLDING TANK Art is anything WHAT WOULD YOU DO? FUCK IT! that makes you It ain't worth it argue about would you run? I'm a kleptomaniac what it is jump and flee? I went into a BIG DEPARTMENT STORE spit at the flame? wearing a full skirt WHITMAN McGOWAN what would you do first? put the clothes call for help? between my legs would you keep it I've done it to yourself? a hundred times what would you do? I normally don't how would you see me? get caught would you think me bad? and this is BURGLARY bad? not shoplifting as in evil? as in cruel? FUCK'EN BURGLARY would you run? GOD, IWON'T would you put it out? DO IT NO MORE stomp and roll? LET ME OUT OF THIS would you go for water, a blanket, a hose? PLEASE DON'T LET what would you do ME BE A GODDAMNED if I set you on fire? KLEPTOMANIAC is there any way But shit a person can know the minute ·s really know I say it dl EL as far into a soul I do something else bad ·-ve Nu "A PASSING, YET TO COME" deep back to the strange possibility of other timelessness I'm the bad seed t I'm worse than Be I Farewell- know anA.c ''The Moment" my brothers RAGE someone's mind? I make my Air but from a poet's breath. what the next move is? Farewell, ''The Moment." MAMA cry I rage how could you know Kerouac- Poetry is edible if I wanted to set you LINDAKING The world dangles its carrot, the Almighty Buck, in front of Shared self same death, on fire? my face, then hits me with a stick when i grab Ginsberg- the red welts pop up on my body Wades through shallow depths - and if you thought a lifetime of grabbing, a lifetime of welts they multiply, To gasp there was the most but not heal And sing the song - remote then i notice the welts on the bodies of others, bigger and Of that, that's left. chance redder than mine, and my rage becomes greater, and i'm called Bukowski- the slightest tremor a bleeding heart liberal with a bad attitude because i don't Who shares the cover front of desire like all the welts Would be fulfilled to see you and i try to say so If he had cunt. on fire except how do you show a rage that must be buried so deep that Bless them all - would you want to wait it out? it cannot be expressed in its full power? All- would you wait to see? what would you do I rage at others Who spoke to us - And made us see the beauty - if I wanted to set you those who tell me that what's in their best interests is in on fire? my best interest Of the bosses, the newspapers, the commercials That special thing maybe you would know the apologists who say that this is the best of all possible worlds Called poetry. me the economists with their supply side trickle down theories "I grow old maybe you would understand everything must trickle down to them, cause nothing's I grow old how intensely flammable trickling I wear the bottoms of my you might be down Trousers rolled." and you might let me try to "I sometimes think wouldn't you? me That never grows so red the rose, just to see if I did it? As where some buried Ceaser bled. just to see? (they all spew out refuse "Oh Captain, my Captain listen, listen, listen, do, do, do, buy, buy, buy ?ur .fearful voyage is done," BARBARA GOLDMAN like retching dogs A b1rdy with a yellow bill it all gets to be the same mindfuck after awhile.) hopped upon my windowsill." Mostly, i rage at myself And when i unleash my rage against those few who don't deserve it Forever and always - those who don't see me as an The remembrance Interesting Note: "Have you noticed that '11ie Moment instrument to their ends Of Eric, Kevin, and Igor have never been a cog in their machine ''The Moment" - photographed together? a commodity in their market Shall linger And leave me yearning - Think about It••• " I can't see anymore For i don't know the difference between raging "The Moment" - ''The Moment" - 23 and not raging. "The Moment" - yet to come. HINK CHARLES ZIMMERMAN INSATIABLE CLC WE LOVE YOU ... GOODBYE! •