Café dialogue at Vendome

With contributions from Herman Melville, Woody Allen, William Shakespeare, and others, we showed up (which Woody Allen said is 80% of success) at Vendome last Wednesday and had a rollicking time. From Charles Bukowski’s poetry we learned that when shit happens you can use it to make poetry. Like “a happening,” the Bukowski poem I’ve appended below.

I’ll be visiting family in North Carolina from June 25 to July 6, then back at Vendome the following Wednesday. Please keep the ball rolling at Vendome with a dialogue next Wednesday June 26 and the following Wednesday July 3. Or if not let me know and I’ll write a poem about it.

On June 26 it will be a quarter-century to the day since I lost my beloved wife Irma Parhad. Born in Mosul, Iraq in 1948, she died in Calgary on June 26, 1994. If you call next Wednesday Irma Parhad Night at Vendome, that would be brilliant. Let me know.

Arthur

Charles Bukowski was an extraordinarily prolific poet. He often went to the racetrack to bet on the horses, and quite a few of his poems refer to that part of his experience, including this one from the volume The Night Torn Mad with Footsteps (2001).\

a happening

he was always a first-rate jock,

I’ve watched him ride for many years

on many an afternoon at Del Mar, Hollywood Park,

Santa Anita.

early this year

his wife committed a terrible

suicide.

those who knew him well said that

he would never ride

again.

and he didn’t ride for a

while.

then one afternoon he

accepted a mount

and as the horses came out

for the post

parade

and he rode into

view

the applause

began – a gentle

steady applause - it

continued for many

minutes

and may a sentimental

horseplayer

had to

turn away

to hide the

tears.

then

in that race

he came driving

down the stretch

just to miss

at the photo finish.

all he said later to the

reporters was: “it seems so

strange to come home and

not find her

there.”

since then

he has been riding

with a style and an

abandon that is

unbelievable:

driving through small gaps

between horses

or dangerously along the

rail.

he is now

the leading jock

and

he continues to

win.

people have not seen

such riding in

decades.

he’s the tiger in the

sun.

he’s each one of us

alone

forever

fiercely ignoring

the

pain.