Sketchbook
a journal for eastern and western forms
Collage
S. A. Griffin, US
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Denver was a mile high magic carpet ride
Honeymooner weekend
I flew in from L.A.
on Lorraine's frequent flyer
Munson met me at the airport
thankfully
breakfast at Ed & Marcia's
since all they feed you on the plane now is
prefab food
that don't come w/the price of the ride
after eating
we smoked out (w/you) & then
Ed shared all his really good shit
& we freaked over small press treasures & artifact
Saul's cover on your book
Jimmy's Mile High
small paintings by 'T'
next the parade made it's way over to Wilson's studio
where we were joined by Kate
(just landing
epic high speed
drive from Baton Rouge)
we all sat & smoked Capri's
lifted the room w/a little CSG
& after awhile
got to work
cut & paste
noodle w/scissors
glue stick
pen to make words
red grape
love & friends
art everywhere
jazz on vinyl
(we all laughed over
broken record
signed by Loquidis)
tears fell in a gentle rain
& we used the love word
because some things
just can't be helped
Saturday nite
Munson had a party at yr old/his trailer
friends
bookpeople
poets
there
Ed & Marcia Ward still on board
surfing the weekend long
hey-ride in The Rockies
(Ed is my way back
you are the parade
Denver always
like coming home)
Art Carney passed away
a few days before—
Norton on the bus w/Ralph
Alice & Trixie
waving/laughing
digging our
Denver weekend
shouting“Hello ball!”
“Sweet pal 'o mine”
& “You're the greatest!”
chef of the future
a string of poloponies
homina-homina-homina-homina
Swanee River?
& one of these days…
meanwhile
back at the trailer
John gets a phone call right as the party
at yr/his trailer is swinging
it's the printer calling
they can't do the job in time
in fact
haven't even started
fuck!
& we
need them next morning
for yr gig
so that's all she wrote
party over
time to saddle up
get back into the parade
& who's gonna do it?
hell
we will
that's the way it's supposed to
come down anyways
starkly lit Kubrick copy joint in the middle of the nite
somewhere in Denver
2 other people at their machines
between the cash in pocket
& a credit card
we manage:
copycorrectshootturn
shootcorrectcorrectturn
copycorrectshootturnshootshootshoot
shootturn
fold
fold
fold
it was a blast
a flashback
working thru the nite
w/no distraction
cranking it out
like others do
& have done
& will do
for years & years
the way real history gets
laid down for oaf&all
job well done
so John & I celebrate w/The Lady in empty fast food parking lot
w/greasy cheeseburgers
& french fries
wee small hours
sitting in his
Ford
Sunday morning
& damned good coffee at
Michelle's
hung w/mother Mary
holding court fireside
recall 90+ years
& old world/new now
no more
folks are coming over
for a noontime
hang w/family food friends
& drink before reading
Gina & Anna there with
husbands & kids
Melody w/her girl
Sam was there
lunchmeat
& cheese
crackers bread pass the mustard
good kosher dills
& look at that picture of Tony smiling!
here comes a story
& another & another
laughter&tears
laughter&tears
Wilson produces sacred objects:
a hand made first of Kid
& then very carefully
something holy & divine
a one of a kind tiny hand made book
that folds up like baby accordion
something you wrote & made for yr pal
Wilson cradles it in his palms like a prayer
slowly unfolds the thing
& reads
laughter&tears
later we saw you read it for real
on tape at The Merc
& there you were at The Bwana
voicing the thing
like a psalm
spilling across the room to Steve
on the screen
& there he is in the back holding Michelle
as time collapsed all around us
in a laying on of hands
Gayle there too
up on the screen
lost in the words & we are all lost
w/you leaning into the page
singing yr love song to the Lady: “oh Lady…”
so anyway
Munson
Ed/Marcia
& I gathered all the stuff
from Steve's John's & Ed's
& boogied on over to Marilyn Megenity's Mercury Café
to set up for the Sunday afternoon reading
Marilyn laid out an amazing spread
for the noshing
as everyone began filling up The Jungle Room
to pay tribute
Andy Kipp rolled in w/a noble
big & beautiful Black Ace banner
we hung from the pipes by the east window
naming the poet's tour
& proclaiming the parade:
Scibella The Beautiful
Scibella The Wise
Scibella Scibella Scibella
Poet Scibella
Artist Scibella
mentor
father
brother
lover
veteran
pal & buddy Scibella
up front big pictures by Marcia Ward from the back of Kid
& that great shot of you & Gayle
embracing at the bookstore in Denver
on the tables
draped in dark velvet
a life of small press
straight shooting chaps & perfect bound books
flyers newspapers photos
a pair of Ray Bans from the back seat of
Munson's chariot
(so you wouldn't be w/out yr veil before The Lady)
wild flowers from outside the Merc
a little pocket change
candles
Passion & pal Ryan
blew sax & keyboard
Kate ran her fingers across the harp
Ed said you thought he
looked like a big city
Puerto Rican pimp
when first you met
Andy O' —
you made him feel like he could
as you yourself always were the little engine
always something burning in your mouth
always something burning inside
chugging back & forth along the
poet railroad
L.A. to Denver
mile high to land's end
Ray & Anna Fall showed up
with 35 years in their hair
Jim Bernath
reading from Venice West
about how you weren't really
appreciated maybe
& we all agree that yr last 2 books
were somma yr best ever
Stanley said Parade was a masterpiece
I said Kid
we all said yes
so many people there
Ted Vaca sez you were the poem/light
Sam said you were the love of her life
& thanks for the beautiful family
Marsha sez you sing Billie Holiday tunes to her in the car
just like the folks in Denver swear you
flew in & touched them
Wilson works w/you at the studio
like you touched us all it seems
leaving no soul unturned
in L.A.
your kids took care of everything
in Denver
the poets did the work
time for the family (all in Tony drag)
to kick back
& let go
we all broke down
let go
blubbering like babies &
throwing our heads back
laughing like hyenas
people said yr tribute issue of The Merc
was the best ever
Kate read her piece from it
so did John
I was scared
not quite knowing what to say
how to say it
afraid of looking stupid I suppose
but wasn't about to let the parade pass by
Anna whispered,
“Go on S.A.! You say something!”
I get up & go for another stout
at the bar
Anna's John's jawing w/Munson &
Gina's Tony
John wants to write yr little girl a love poem
& he's sweating it
Munson & I say
step aside
the poem's already there
I sip from my dark glass
& watch from the back
Anna & Gina keep giving me the
go do it look
okay okay
now it's on me
okay…
so I rap
straight from the hip
said that there's never a good time to die
good time to live
you just do
& closed with
hello &
goodbye
said shit like
you are a hat we wear
a wall
a floor
a window to the heart
the shoes that walk the universe
that you were all process
music from the sun
& how lucky we were
(oaf there big time
& the Kid w/pearl handled pistols of poem
holding the place happy hostage w/the word)
laughter&tears
Gwylym screened the video he shot
from March
Black Ace at the pulp convention
you talking & laughing
working The Merc from the other side
like Burns or Benny
as we all fall in together over you
& the year turns 39 again
for the last uncountable time
the parade pulls into the garage
& parks it for now
poet's tour of words
over (for now)
& its back to business
back to my city of shattered angels
& the ghosts of Venice West
where you now walk arm in arm
w/The Lady
promenading the boardwalk
past The Gas House
inside Venice West Cafe
proclaiming w/Wally & Stuart (& Frankie) that
“art is love is god”
& spell espresso 'x'
you & Melody sitting face to face in the window of the world
& the gods look on w/envy
as you 'snap' to it (don't wanna bring down the law)
working a healing on a world of war all the time:
peace
peace
all things still possible
because the work is always
just beginning
one word at a time
process baby process
“oh Lady”
Link to other tribute poems for Tony Scibella
h
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