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Cirque du Soleil
Longtime Southern California poet takes his act to Vegas
Longtime Southern California poet takes his act to Vegas

The old poet is dressed in black, his platinum-blond hair rakishly moussed. He stands amid the hubbub, facing a stern test of his crafted words and carnival-barker delivery. The venue is a smoky lounge called Ichabod's, east of the Strip. Drinkers stare zombie-like at TV screens and bar-top poker machines, laughing too loudly, lost in a heady haze of alcohol and another Vegas night. Certainly no place for a performing poet. But Lee Mallory feels right in his element. He wanders a tiny dance area for an hour channeling his idol, infamous booze-bard Charles Bukowski, with an arsenal of racy shock speak. He looms in people's faces, challenging the yakkers at the back bar. ...

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