Category Archives: Readings

Poetry Reading at the Beatrice Wood Center

I had a great time reading poems at the Beatrice Wood Center for the Arts as part of the lineup for Weird Words. Octogenerian firecracker Polly Bee also read her by turns hilarious and heartbreaking prose poems, and Tree Bernstein read sonorously from her chapbook “Water” while the ever-versatile Buddy Wilds (who also served as emcee) accompanied her fluidly on acoustic guitar.

The Center is a gorgeous property atop a hill in upper Ojai with stunning vistas on all sides and rooms filled with “Beato’s” finished and unfinished ceramic masteripeces. The property was warmed up for our arrival by a well-attended reception for a striking exhibit of paintings and glassworks by Richard Amend and Susan Stinsmuehlen-Amend, and by nightfall the bamboo was rustling with doves roosting down for the night.

I read a poem dedicated to the memory of two friends’ departed son, and somehow managed to collect myself to carry on after seeing the look in their eyes. It was a special evening, full of good friends and good art. I think Ms. Wood would have been proud.

Redondo Beach Power of Art Festival Reading

Reading at the Carnegie Art Museum, Oxnard

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It was an honor to read poetry at the Carnegie Art Museum in Oxnard last night with Jamey Hecht. Jackson Wheeler has been running the Arcade Poetry Series for over twenty years, and Andrew Carnegie’s neoclassical bequest has played home to the series for the past decade. It is a charming venue, and Jackson is a gracious host.

Jamey read from his new collection, Limousine Midnight Blue, with the boldness and intensity of a talented stage actor, bringing to life his treatise on the Kennedy assassination and its harrowing repercussions. He also read from his translations of Sophocles, including passages from “Oedipus Rex” that brought this old classics warhorse vividly into the present, stamping and snorting.

Another treat was the opportunity to finally meet Glenna Luschei. Also, Fiona and Cameron from Lettre Sauvage showed up with their beautiful letterpress works. Their book-arts chapbooks, broadsides, and other printed paper craft can only be fully appreciated in person. Kudos to them for re-imagining the place of the printed book in the digital age.

And thanks most especially to Jackson, for his effusive generosity of spirit, which makes this series a local treasure.

Reading at the Ruskin Art Club

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I spent a rich and meaningful afternoon reading poems with fellow Pacific University Alumni: Kathryn Belsey, Michelle Bitting, Jonathan Harris, and George Wallace–as well as eminent faculty member David St. John. The Ruskin Art Club played host, thanks to the ever-gracious Elena Karina Byrne, to this reunion of sorts. Afterward I heard audience members remark that they felt the variety and quality of the readings gave testament to the strength of Pacific’s writing program. David St. John kindly remarked that, to him, the real secret of teaching is that one actually gets back, through the students, so much more than one gives. It was an afternoon full of generosity and goodwill–not to mention outstanding poetry.

I also took this occasion to debut my new limited-edition broadside of the poem “Recipe for the Broken.” The poem was first published in “Walt’s Corner” of The Long Islander, the newspaper founded by Walt Whitman in 1838. Fittingly, the column is now curated by George Wallace. The poem and background image are printed on sturdy 8.5″ x 11″ paper as part of The Broadsider Volume 2, Series 12 (Poor Souls Press 2010), conceived and created by Paul Fericano. A limited quantity of hand-numbered and signed prints are now available for sale on this website.

An Unexpected Dedication

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Robert Peake reads a poem next to "Elliot" the bear

Photo by Randy Graham

I broke away from work to attend the dedication ceremony for my neighbor Mark Benkert’s new memorial sculpture to the Aliso Street Bear (a.k.a “Elliot”). In introducing me to read the poem I wrote dedicated to the bear, Mark also mentioned something remarkable about the process of sculpting the memorial.

For both Mark and I, the loss of the bear resonated deeply with the loss of our sons. As Mark was inscribing the letters “J” and “B”, the initials of his son, Jonah Benkert, the “B” also read much like a “P”–and he mentioned that “J.P.” reminded him of our own son, James Peake. Needless to say that by the time I took the microphone, I was nearly unable to speak.

Yet I managed to read my poem, honoring the bear, our sons, our community. The rest of the dedication meant a lot to me–from written poems and prose pieces, to impromptu verbal tributes, a song, and drumming. It was also a moment of catharsis for our community, coming together once more to honor all that the bear brought to us.

To learn more about how to promote the peaceful coexistence of humans and animals in the Ojai Valley, please visit the Ojai Wildlife League website.

Poetry and Generosity

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This is an open note of thanks to Paul Fericano. I had a great time reading at the Broken Word series at Farmer and the Cook last night, and listening to Danielle Camacho, P.Lyn Middleton, Quin Mallory, Paul Fericano, Crystal Salas, Steve Sprinkel, and Johnny Fonteyn weave words into the warm summer night. Afterward, I got to talking with Paul, and he showed me one of the gorgeous, limited-edition offset-print broadsides he creates. On remarking how much I liked it, he gave it to me. And then another. In fact, a whole set.

Strangely enough, this is not the first time I have gone to a poetry reading and come home with a gift. It seems to me that the best kinds of writing communities have, at their heart, a spirit of generosity. This was certainly my experience in the MFA program, where my advisers gave so much more than what was asked of them by the university. And so, with so much talk about “greatness” in poetry, I would like to propose a new definition–that poets not be measured so much by what the Paris Review says about their twelfth collection–but by how poetry inspires them to keep giving back. The product of great poets is great poems. But, so often in my experience, the by-product is generosity.

Three Poems in Sugar Mule Online

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Sugar Mule #32 just went live online, bearing three of my poems. As fate would have it, I plan to read two of these three poems tonight at The Artists’ Union Gallery in Ventura. The reading begins at 7:30PM. Bring a poem or two for the open mic.

And for those of you who can’t make it, for whatever reason–enjoy the poems!

Broken Word at the Farmer and the Cook

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I had the pleasure of reading a few poems tonight alongside Judy Oberlander, Joan Nicholson, Steve Sprinkel, and Johnny Fonteyn in the front patio of The Farmer and The Cook. Despite noise from an occasional bus or rap-spewing low rider, the air was deliciously warm, and the stage was backed by swaying trees. Overcoming initial hesitation, I read a poem featuring sushi at this charming all-vegetarian restaurant. Nobody threw potatoes.

On the contrary, the atmosphere was friendly and casual, aided in part by the well-received happy hour offer of one dollar off organic beer and wine. The patio was packed, and chatty at intermission. P. Lyn Middleton did an excellent job emceeing the evening, with just the right blend of structure and southern grace. This was the second in what appears to be a very promising new series of readings, and the perfect way to spend a summer evening in Ojai.

Poetry Reading This Sunday in Ojai

Featured Poet at the Village Jester Pub in Ojai

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Pub I had a great time reading at The Village Jester Restaurant & Pub tonight. We live all of three blocks away, so I grabbed a music stand and a handful of poems, and Val and I walked there through a balmy May night. In addition to being a great hangout and gathering place, The Jester also pours a strong Rose’s Lime and soda.

The open mic was remarkable for the raw, authentic nature of each piece. And, special bonus, my father read a poem as well–something he hadn’t done since he was nineteen, and read at an open mic prior to the feature of a different Robert–Robert Frost.

Many thanks to Tree Bernstein and The Jester for bringing good people to a good spot to share some poems. I can’t think of a better way to start the week.

Valley Contemporary Poets Past Directors’ Reading

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I happened to be in the Los Angeles area this weekend, so I made my way over to Tarzana to hear Jamie O?Halloran, Richard Modiano, Rick Lupert, Elizabeth Iannaci, Amélie Frank and Brendan Constantine–all former directors of the Valley Contemporary Poets–read a few poems each.

The afternoon opened up with two songs from the Gospel and close-harmony Soul duet Sandbloom. Normally I’m fairly averse to musical acts at a reading since I feel they sort of unfairly alter the attenuation of the audience’s ear with the inherently more aurally rich experience of music. Sort of a similar reason for not opening a classical music concert with a heavy metal act. That said, this band actually seemed to warm the audience up in an effective way with their gentle, compelling and sonorous songs.

Jamie O?Halloran read lyrical verse that seemed to have been carefully attended-to and crafted. Richard Modiano read more politically charged work that seemed a kind of observational humor, with the humor knob turned down. Rick Lupert, by contrast, is widely known as a funny poet, dry as a Santa Ana wind. But his is a talent equally suited to any subject in poetry–unique observation born of an unusual turn of mind.

After the break, and another song, Elizabeth Iannaci read poem after poem that can only be described as solid. Her work draws strength from compelling imagery and compression, the real fundamentals of most poetry that one can never learn too well. Amélie Frank arrived late after what she called “an industrial cat hair disaster” and read a variety of somewhat conversational, confessional poems. Brendan Constantine rounded the afternoon out with a few history lessons about the “good old days” of the VCP (as it’s known) and a blend of poetics positioned somewhere between Lupert’s leaps of wit, Iannaci’s strong spare imagery and O’Halloran’s careful craft. Unfortunately, he kept wringing his hands and twisting his fingers whenever he read a poem (though he appeared remarkably more composed while simply talking between poems)–giving a certain kind of energy to the reading itself but also, unfortunately, making him look a bit like a conniving mad scientist.

It is great to see the VCP alive and well, with a lovely home base in the Tarzana Cultural Center, a long line of supportive past directors, and a crew of new directors who seem eager to carry the torch. Poetry happens in the darndest of places–and “the valley” of all valleys (as it’s known to popular culture)–is clearly no exception.

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