Richard Modiano: California Poets Part 7, Three Poems

Richard Modiano

July 1st, 2024

California Poets: Part VII

Richard Modiano

Three Poems

Desensitized

I worry that people easily become too used to shocking images and stories.

Vast swaths of Gaza and Ukraine blown to bits by bombs, children buried in the

rubble… 

“oh well, that’s life.”

Another ship of desperate Africans fleeing climate-related poverty drowned in the

Mediterranean… 

“well, yes.”

Yet another mass shooting ends the lives of innocents in a school, restaurant, or

shopping center…

"that’s standard now.”

Mothers and children trying to escape misery in Latin America caught in razor wire laid

by vicious nativists at the southern border… 

“of course.”

One of the United States’ two major political parties goes virulent and Nazi and the other

one stays hollow and Weimar… 

“ain’t that America.”

Once Upon a Time

As soon as we hit the sidewalk

we were braced by the cops

a hot and humid summer night

"Did you just come out of that building?"

"No" I lied

"We saw you come out of that building"

"We were only under the stoop officer"

Brett smiled her charming smile

she was braless in her tank top tee shirt

the outlines of her nipples apparent

"What were you doing under the stoop?"

"Talking" she smirked

The bad cop shook his head and looked at his partner

"Tilt your head back"

we obeyed and they checked our nostrils for powder

nothing

The sleeves of my blue work shirt were rolled up

"Turn your wrists up"

no track marks

The bad cop ran his finger over the breast pocket of my shirt

no joints 

The good cop chimed in.

"What were you kids really doing?"

I looked at Brett

"Tell them baby"

"We were making out"

"Is that all?" said the bad cop smirked

"Hey Jimmy these kids are okay"

"Yeah, if you say so"

"We're gonna let you go," said the good cop

"But you should know that 

that building harbors drug dealers, and I'm not talking about pot"

"We didn't know officer" Brett looked contrite

"Get outta here"

We slowly walked to the corner

and then headed to Vinnie's to deliver

the dope concealed in Brett's undies

Say You’re Sorry

Sometimes I watch movies about men heading to death 

like Gary Cooper in For Whom the Bell Tolls.

Sometimes I don't look back at a younger self.

Sometimes I don't know what I look like.

Sometimes dementia is a new idea.

Sometimes I think I will be killed riding my bike..

Sometimes I can't see myself dying.

Sometimes I think I should prepare for things that are inevitable.

Sometimes I don't think inevitabilities apply to me.

Sometimes I think this makes me like everyone else.

Sometimes I think people work too hard to release their resentments.

Sometimes I don't think this is possible and it doesn't matter one way or the other.

Sometimes I think I will be left alone forever.

Sometimes when I go for a physical, I think concretely about cancer.

Sometimes I realize people see me in ways I do not see myself.

Sometimes I know this has always been true and it's funny.

Sometimes I mistake what I call resentment and it is actually something else.

Sometimes the unhappiness I feel at being alone is all I feel.

Sometimes I don't want to change anything about myself.

Sometimes I don't care if this bent of mind helps or hinders what I write.

Sometimes I think the only way to go forward is the way you have always gone forward and the concept of "adjustment" is a con.

Sometimes it scares me that I will find myself at the mercy in various ways because I haven't prepared for what's ahead.

Sometimes I enjoy the fact I don't make plans.

Sometimes I think I am guilty of everything and I need to apologize to everyone, especially at Yom Kippur.

Interview

August 22nd, 2024

California Poets Interview Series:

Richard Modiano, Poet, Editor, Director Emeritus at Beyond Baroque

interviewed by David Garyan

DG: I’d like to begin with your activities as a poetry facilitator. You have done a great deal in giving poetry more visibility in the community and have promoted the work of notable writers. What are the most rewarding aspects of this and the most challenging?

RM: I’ve tried to give poets a platform to share their work with a broader audience, fostering a greater appreciation for poetry. By organizing events and fostering a supportive environment, I hope that I’ve helped to create a vibrant community where poets can connect and collaborate. I’ve worked to promote and document the works of notable writers as a contribution to the preservation and appreciation of literary heritage. And finally, supporting emerging poets and providing opportunities for them to showcase their work is perhaps the most rewarding endeavor for me.

As for challenges, securing financial support and resources for poetry events and programs can be a significant challenge, especially in a field that often relies on limited funding. In a world with numerous competing forms of entertainment and media, keeping poetry relevant and visible to the public can be difficult. Ensuring that a wide range of voices and styles are represented can be challenging but is essential for a rich and inclusive literary community. Adapting to evolving trends in poetry and literature, while staying true to one’s vision and mission, requires constant effort and flexibility.

DG: Beyond Baroque has become perhaps the literary landmark of Los Angeles. Your history with the institution goes way back. How did it start, how did it develop, and what can we expect going forward?

RM: When I took over as the director of Beyond Baroque Literary/Arts Center, I faced several challenges: BB had struggled with financial issues and I had to address budget shortfalls and find ways to secure funding to keep the organization afloat.

The center needed revitalization to maintain its relevance and attract a new generation of artists and audiences. I worked on updating programming and outreach to bring fresh energy to the organization while staying true to its literary and artistic roots.

Engaging the local community and building partnerships with other cultural institutions were crucial, so I focused on strengthening relationships within the community and expanding Beyond Baroque's influence and impact.

Balancing the need for financial support with the commitment to artistic integrity was a delicate task. I had to navigate the pressures of commercial viability while preserving the center's role as a space for experimental and avant-garde art.

DG: The center has hosted writers ranging from Amiri Baraka, to Raymond Carver, to Viggo Mortensen, on down to James Tate, Tom Waits, and Harry Northup—the gamut truly runs wide. Are there any personal recollections you’d like to share?

RM: This didn’t take place at Beyond Baroque but it happened because of Beyond Baroque. Susan Power, a curator at LACMA phoned BB asking for input from me on an exhibition centered around the famous Abbott Kinney painting that originally hung in the lobby of the old Venice Post Office. She wanted something about the Venice Beats so I suggested that she have a poetry reading on opening day of the exhibit with Frank T. Rios, the last surviving Venice Beat. She was all for it. I contacted Frankie and he agreed to the reading.

We went to LACMA to look at the space and tell the curator what we needed, basically seats, a microphone and a podium, all of which was doable. Afterward we joined Susan in the café to work out the details. She told Frankie that he would be paid a $300.00 honorarium to which Frankie said, “Did I hear right Rich? I’m gonna be paid $300.00 for reading poetry for 30 minutes?” “That’s right Frankie.” “How much does that come out a minute?”

But then I remembered that Frankie always makes an offering to the muse by burning a poem. I told Frankie that he’d have to forego the offering and explained to Susan what it entailed. As you might imagine, she was horrified. Frankie said he couldn’t read without the offering, so I suggested that he burn the poem on the sidewalk in front of the building, but that didn’t work for him. We left with the issue unresolved.

On the day of the reading, I gave a brief history of the Venice Beats and introduced Frankie. When the time came to make the offering, Frankie took the poem and tore it into fine pieces that threw into the audience. He explained, “The muse came to me last night and told me what I had to do.”

DG: In her introduction to an interview with you, the Indian-American poet, Kalpna Singh-Chitnis, described you as a “rank and file member of the Industrial Workers of the World [who] continues to make a difference by promoting cultural diversity in art and modern American literature.” Indeed, never before have there been so many presses; never before has there been so much support for verse in general, and yet it’s never been more difficult to break through—20 dollar, 30 dollar reading fees are common, acceptance rates are certainly not increasing. How do you feel about the state of poetry—in particular for young people—today?

RM: The current state of poetry is a mixed bag. On one hand, it's heartening to see so many presses and platforms available, reflecting a vibrant and diverse literary landscape. Support for verse is growing, and there are more opportunities than ever for poets to share their work.

However, the high costs of submission fees and the competitive nature of the field can make it challenging for emerging poets. It’s disheartening to see young poets potentially excluded because of financial barriers or because the odds of acceptance are slim.

Yet, this situation also highlights the importance of alternative paths for publishing and promoting poetry. Social media, self-publishing, and community readings can offer different avenues for getting work out there. The key is persistence and finding a balance between navigating traditional channels and exploring new ways to connect with readers and other poets.

DG: The majority of American poetry written today is the standard MFA lyric—forty or so lines, usually with the “I” pronoun and not much of a story. Storytelling and poetry were synonymous in the ancient world and it seems we’ve moved away from that. Do you think this once-hallowed art can become relevant again if it returns to those roots, and what, in your view, should a good poem do?

RM: That’s a great observation. The MFA lyric, with its introspective focus and personal reflection, certainly dominates contemporary American poetry. Storytelling, as you pointed out, was integral to early poetic forms, serving not just as entertainment but as a means of cultural transmission and communal memory.

Returning to storytelling could make poetry feel more relevant to today’s readers by reconnecting with its ancient roots and offering narratives that engage with contemporary issues.

A good poem, in my view, should do several things:

It should spark the reader’s imagination, inviting them to see the world from a new perspective or dive into a vivid, created world.

A poem should evoke a strong emotional response, whether through the power of its language, its narrative, or its thematic depth.

It should convey a sense of truth, whether that’s an emotional truth, a universal truth, or a personal revelation. This doesn’t always mean literal truth, but something that feels authentic and insightful.

The technical aspects—such as form, rhythm, and language—should be handled with skill, but there’s also room for experimentation and pushing boundaries.

A poem should create a sense of connection, whether to the poet’s experience, the shared human condition, or the broader cultural and historical context.

Storytelling can enrich poetry by providing a framework that adds layers of meaning and engagement. Blending narrative with poetic craft could create a powerful, dynamic form that resonates deeply with readers while honoring the art’s storied past.

DG: You’ve written a short essay on the famous dictum “first thought, best thought.” Have your revision habits changed drastically over the years, or do you follow basically the same formula?

RM: I still follow "first thought, best thought," a phrase disseminated by Allen Ginsberg who got it from his Buddhist teacher Chogyam Trungpa. It encapsulates the raw, unfiltered expression at the heart of spontaneous poetry, favoring the immediacy of the mind's first impressions, embracing the chaotic and the imperfect, valuing authenticity over polish. In this poetics, the initial surge of inspiration is a direct line to truth, untainted by the self-censorship that can arise in the process of revision. The intention is to create poetry that is alive with the energy of the moment, capturing the fleeting essence of thought before it is lost to overthinking.

DG: Let’s talk about, The Forbidden Lunchbox, your first collection of poetry. For years you promoted the work of others and only later in life published a full collection of your own. Even here, though, you didn’t waste the opportunity to pay a fellow poet homage, specifically to Scott Wannberg, with an essay and poem. How did you meet and what qualities attracted you most to his work?

RM: I read Scott’s work before I met him. My friend the poet Peter Marti took an English class with Scott at San Francisco State College (as it was known then) taught by Dan Langton. Peter was a guest editor for a student poetry zine called Birthstone and published one of Scott’s pieces. I didn’t meet Scott in person until 1994 and we became friends immediately.

Scott’s work resonates with me because of his unique voice and the way he blends raw, honest emotions with a deep sense of place and community as well as his genius ability to mine language from the bottom of his mind. His poetry has a conversational tone, capturing the rhythms of everyday life while exploring complex themes of identity, loss, and hope. The way he weaves personal and cultural narratives together creates a vivid, relatable experience for me.

DG: The collection is full of Japanese elements and imagery—not surprising given that you speak the language, and the title itself is a very relevant part of it all. It’s not, as one might think, connected to your affinity for laborers, but something more specifically connected to Japanese history. Can you talk about that aspect and also how Japanese culture has impacted your work and way of life in general?

RM: My engagement with Japanese culture goes beyond just linguistic interest; certain concepts of Japanese culture, such as the notions of impermanence (mujo) and the subtle beauty found in the mundane. You can see Japanese culture's impact on my work in exploration of themes like transience and the blending of the personal with the universal.

DG: Though LA is your native city, you also spent a great deal of time in New York. When was the last time you were there and do you see the cities as essentially polar opposites or are there more similarities than we think?

RM: The last time I visited NYC was in October of 2018 for an East Coast celebration of Beyond Baroque’s 50th anniversary. The program was produced and curated by Puma Perl at my request and held at the Howl Gallery.

I have to say that I experienced culture shock at the incredible gentrification that invaded the Lower East Side even though it was going on when I was still residing in the City.

Most obviously, the geographies of New York City and Los Angeles are distinctly different: NYC is vertical and L.A. is horizontal, and the respective urban experiences are shaped by their differing geography and culture. New York City's fast-paced rhythm, with its iconic skyline and dense neighborhoods, is often characterized by a sense of urgency and historical gravitas. Its streets are crowded with a diverse array of people and activities, reflecting its status as a cultural and economic powerhouse. In contrast, Los Angeles, with its sprawling layout and laid-back atmosphere, emphasizes a more relaxed lifestyle intertwined with its entertainment industry and Mediterranean landscapes. L.A. is known for its creative energy, driven by the glamour of Hollywood and the allure of its coastlines. While NYC thrives on its historical and frenetic energy, LA embraces a blend of relaxation and ambition.

DG: What are you reading or working on at the moment?

RM: I’m working on a new collection called Muse (suggested by my friend the poet Kat Georges) and writing an essay on the photographs of Pamela Mosher (AKA Kamera Xie) and gathering material for an anthology to be published next year.

Author Bio:

While a resident of New York City Richard Modiano became active in the literary community connected to the Poetry Project where he came to know Gregory Corso, Allen Ginsberg, Anne Waldman, William S. Burroughs and Ted Berrigan. Modiano served on the board of directors of Valley Contemporary Poets from 1995 until 2001.  In 2001 he was a programmer at Beyond Baroque Literary/Arts Center, joined the Board of Trustees in 2006, and from 2010 to 2019, he served as Executive Director. In that time he produced and curated hundreds of literary events, and with Henry Morro, Suzanne Lummis and Liz Camfiord co-founded and named Beyond Baroque Books’ sub-imprint The Pacific Coast Poetry Series. In 2019 he was elected Vice President of the California State Poetry Society. In 2023 Modiano joined the board of directors of the Los Angeles Poetry Society. The Huffington Post named him as one of 200 people doing the most to promote poetry in the United States. Modiano is the winner of the 2022 Joe Hill Prize for labor poetry and is a Pushcart Prize nominee. His collection The Forbidden Lunch Box is published by Punk Hostage Press. Richard is a rank-and-file member of the Industrial Workers of the World and a member of the National Writers Union.