For Charles Bukowski’s 100th birthday, coronavirus or not, attention must be paid. Famous in movies portrayed by Mickey Rourke (Barfly) and Matt Dillon (Factotum), the subject of a 1973 documentary by Taylor Hackford, Bukowski was a one-of-a-kind, sexy despite huge facial crevices left by acne, crude: he once described writing a poem was like taking a big bear shit. Now there’s a new documentary assembled from a rare, rediscovered 1981 interview by Silvia Bizio, an Italian journalist, You Never Had It-An Evening with Bukowski, directed by Matteo Borgardt, and whether or not you agree with Bukowski’s view of poetry composition, it is a must-see for a glimpse of this boozing, chain-smoker who fascinates with every word.
The poet Tony Towle knew everyone in the midcentury cultural milieu, when poets mingled with painters. Think John Ashbery, Larry Rivers, Jasper Johns. Poet Annabel Lee, publisher of Vehicles Editions, has put out a new book, My First Three Books. Featuring 12 of Towle’s poems from the 1960’s, with an Interview by Leo Edelstein, and Preface by John Yau, this gem of a volume, itself a work of art, contains photos and a CD of Towle reading. Here is a riff from Lee about this book: “John Yau's preface: extraordinary in the way it introduces the reader to the context from John's personal history and then the reader is prepared to dive into a time and place that has fascinated so many and will continue even more as time goes by to seem like some idyllic paradise of genius painters and brilliantly casual elegant poets who were all intimately connected in their lives then making things and with the amazing guidance and encouragement of Tanya Grosman.”
Tony Towle’s poems ground me, as they are profoundly resonant of our current state of being, as in his Prologue from “Enchantment:” “If you walk slowly, out of breath, and think,/ and breathe the air, on a coast,/ arriving at the coast out of breath/ and helpless, distressed about your conclusions/ because it is evening and difficult to see,/ then everything you sense may be enchanted, in a fugitive way,/ as soon it will be a different situation.”
John Yau’s preface points out, “Towle knew everybody that was anybody.” True enough, but John Giorno, poet, producer of the Dial-A-Poem recordings, and star of Andy Warhol’s Sleep, not only knew everybody, he slept with everybody: Warhol, Rauschenberg, Johns, Haring, Burroughs—his memoir, Great Demon Kings: A Memoir of Sex, Art, Death, and Enlightenment, is a who’s who of the 20th century, and a tell-all of these liaisons, down to details about the artists’ body hairs.
Erik LaPrade’s new book, Weather, follows in this downtown poet to painter tradition. His poems describe birds, sky, clouds even as he denies writing about nature. A poem called “Montauk Point in August” fits the mood: “Surveying the shoreline from different angles/ We notice a dead whale being removed and/ Broken crab shells decorating the granite rocks.” The poems break off rather than end, which could mirror a current non-closure, distanced as we all are.
What a line up. Thanks for the turn on. Love alll these very different and deviously serious writers.
Posted by: Jeffrey Wright | September 17, 2020 at 05:01 PM