PLAYING POLITICS IN THE POETRY GAME

Mecca for Los Angeles area poets is a large, drab stucco building near the beach on Venice Boulevard.

Once Venice’s town hall, it now houses the Beyond Baroque Foundation, a literary arts organization where a poetry reading is the sine qua non of career building for local poets. But first you have to get there.

“It took me 10 years to get my reading at Beyond Baroque,” says Laurel Ann Bogen, author of “Do Iguanas Dance, Under the Moonlight” (Illuminati Press). That’s 10 years from the time she began reading in public and attempting to be recognized for her work.

Along the way she had achieved moderate success. She had been profiled in local newspapers and had performed in nearly every other reading venue in the city. But a reading at Beyond Baroque never materialized, no matter how many times she tried.

“They (Beyond Baroque’s reading committee at the time) told me that my work wasn’t strong enough, yet I knew that lesser-known and less-experienced poets were invited to present their work,” she says.

Finally, in 1984 Bogen was asked to participate in a fund-raising event for Beyond Baroque. “They knew I drew audiences,” Bogen says. “I knew they’d have to give me my reading. So I made sure to ask again.”

The management of the foundation and the reading series had changed hands by that time, and Bogen did get to read last summer, to a standing ovation.

Bogen is talking about the politics of Los Angeles poetry--the activity of getting what often begins as very private writing into the public awareness. That means readings, publication and recognition as a poet. In a city where intimacies and animosities among writers have developed over the years, it can also mean getting to know the right people.

When asked about their careers, other poets also revealed similar painful episodes about how tough it is to break into the Los Angeles “scene” and expressed fears of being quoted for publication. One well-known poet and publisher of poets told of a time when his mail, and that of a few other poetry editors, was forwarded to another city. They later found out that phony forwarding address cards were filed with the post office--possibly the act of a disgruntled poet who imagined that these editors had enormous power in the poetry marketplace.

Another magazine poetry editor’s tires were slashed. Someone calling himself “the poetry mafia” left messages on the answering machines of several local poetry editors taking credit for both the slashed tires and the falsely forwarded mail. “This person accused us of controlling all of Los Angeles poetry. We’re still afraid to talk about this,” he says. “We’re afraid to fan the flames.”

Poets can’t pay the rent by writing poetry, as some novelists, screenwriters and journalists can, and only a few can earn a living from teaching, performance and writing about poetry.

The situation is exacerbated for poets living outside New York. Recognition in New York makes one a national and international literary figure ipso facto , simply because publishing is concentrated there. Poets published elsewhere, including here in Los Angeles, are forced to conquer the country piece by piece.

“The entire world is blind to Los Angeles poetry,” claims novelist and poetry reviewer Holly Prado. “Los Angeles is associated with film, television and music industries. This puts our artists in a kind of vacuum.”

But Prado feels that living in a vacuum keeps L.A.’s poets from getting serious about their careers as writers. “It contributes to poets playing around,” she says. “It took me 15 years to develop the stamina to write a novel.” More important, however, says Prado, is the reluctance of L.A. writers to talk about writing. “I’d like people to come to me and argue and ask questions and challenge me about my work.”

Agreeing with Parado is Dennis Phillips, director of the Beyond Baroque Foundation: “Poets work very independently here,” he says. “When I read in San Francisco recently (from his new book “The Hero Is Nothing”: Koyak Press), a lot of people wanted to get together with me afterward to find out my ideas.”

In Los Angeles, however, there’s a lot of anti-intellectual posturing, a refusal to discuss the aesthetic under-pinnings of one’s work. Poet/editors Lee Hickman and Clayton Eshleman have tried to counter that with their publications, Temblor and Sulfur, but have been “attacked for being elitist,” Phillips said. He would like to see more poets stay after readings. “I’d like people to feel they can come to Beyond Baroque to argue,” he says. “Poets don’t treat each other very well,” Phillips adds.

Poet/teacher Jack Grapes, who feels that poets disenpower themselves, said “There are cliques here, and some people are excluded--but not as consciously as they think.

“Groups of people get together to create a publication, and it’s only natural for them to promote their own ideas about poetry and their own friends.” He advises poets who feel excluded to empower themselves, to spend the time and money to create magazines and newsletters and opportunities to perform.

Although there were poets and poetry in Los Angeles before the late ‘60s, the Los Angeles “scene” had its origins with George Drury Smith’s Beyond Baroque magazine, which is no longer published and which evolved into the Beyond Baroque Foundation.

Says Smith, “I wanted to influence taste in Los Angeles. I had been reading in the late Spanish Baroque, and the words, Beyond Baroque popped into my head as a name for a magazine. I hoped for a Renaissance in Los Angeles, a revolution in taste. Beyond Baroque was originally conceived as a magazine devoted to experimental writing. Then I needed a place to put my new printing equipment and I bought the old building.” (Beyond Baroque currently resides at 680 Venice Blvd.)

A library developed as other small poetry presses sent complimentary copies and Alexandra Garrett, a Venice poet, became librarian. The workshops, readings and “happenings” evolved among the people who would hang out there. And Beyond Baroque as a focus for the literary arts in Los Angeles was born.

The Foundation now has a bookstore, workshops, grant funding (from Los Angeles Cultural Affairs Commission, National Endowment for the Arts and other sources) and a national reputation. There is a sense of longevity, unmatched by any other poetry venue in the city.

Says Garrett about the organization’s impact, “When I came to Los Angeles in 1949, it took me eight years to find a writer’s workshop. It is now possible to find a reading or workshop almost any night of the week in Los Angeles.”

The Los Angeles poetry scene now stretches as far north and west as the Valley Contemporary Poets, a reading series in Woodland Hills founded by Nan Hunt and currently directed by Sylvia Rosen. On the northeast, it is bounded by Vol No magazine published by Richard Weekley with Bob Brown, Tina Megali and Jerry Danielsen. It extends as far east as the Women’s Building near Chinatown, where nationally known women poets are paired with locals in a reading series. To the south, there’s Long Beach where Cal State Long Beach professor Elliott Fried publishes anthologies such as “Amorotica” and the current “Men Talk,” an anthology of writing by men.

Among others, Bill Mohr’s Momentum Press, Jack Grapes’ Bombshelter Press and Peter Schneidre’s Illuminati Press do much to keep Los Angeles poetry alive. Poet Austin Strauss’ interview program, “The Poetry Connexion” (Saturday nights on KPFK) also provides a forum for local and national poets.

Even so, Beyond Baroque--because it is the only literary arts foundation in Los Angeles and one of the very few in the country--can have a definitive impact on a poet’s career. Even poets who have read at such places as Lhasa Club, the Sand and Sea Club or Be-Bop Records, cherish a reading at Beyond Baroque.

How does a poet come to have a public life? One poet, thinking of the small but visible group of poets who achieved fame after death, wryly suggests suicide as a career move. And what are poets politicking for, if they aren’t going to get rich or famous and if 50 people is a huge audience for a reading?

Wanda Coleman, author of “Mad Dog Black Lady and Imagoes”(Black Sparrow) sums it up. “When they write about the Los Angeles Poetry Renaissance in 100 years,” she says, “I want to be sure they mention me.”

When it was noted that “politics” could also mean support in gaining recognition, poets began to talk about workshops, reading venues and literary arts organizations that furthered their careers.

Prado cites the Alvaro Cardona-Hine workshop as a major source of support. “It was a kind of baptism by fire,” says Prado, “a professional workshop in which people did not fool around. The other poets in the group were a lot more experienced and a lot stronger than I was. They let me know that no weak sentimental verse was permitted. For the first time in my life I got to see how a poet’s mind worked. I tried to write something for the workshop every week, even though I felt terrified.”

Eloise Klein Healy, author of “Packet Beating Like a Heart” (Rara Avis), mentioned the Women’s Building and the women’s writing community as a whole. “At the Women’s Building I met people who were studying graphics and bookmaking. It was wonderful to be around people who were devoted to making beautiful books.”

Two of them, Jacqueline De Angelis and Aleida Rodgriguez, became her publishers at Rare Avis. Various bookstores, such as Chelsea in Long Beach, Sisterhood Books and Page One gave Healy readings when she was not so well known. “I gave my very first reading in a garage in Orange County,” she says. “A poet has to be willing to go anywhere to make her work public.”

Grapes (“Breaking on Camera,” Bombshelter Press) mentions the Venice Jail Workshop as a support group. Jim Krusoe, the author of numerous poetry books, including “Small Pianos,” also has been a major influence. “There is a point, however, in every artist’s life in which you kind of go it alone,” Grapes says. “Now, I get most of my support in the form of feedback from my workshops at Beyond Baroque and UCLA extension.”

Harry Northup, whose collection, “Enough the Great Running Chapel,” is published by Momentum Press, cites Ann Stanford of Cal State Northridge’s English department as a major source of encouragement. “The best thing about her was her compassion,” he says. “She dealt with the individual student, with no regard for politics.”

Even in the workshop environment, there are politics to play. There seem to be workshops where men are favored, workshops where women are favored, workshops where older or younger people are favored, workshops where gays are favored or discriminated against, workshops where minorities are favored or discriminated against.

Nan Hunt, author of “Myself in Another Skin” (Drenan Press), herself a well-known teacher, contrasts two classes.

“At the Women’s Building, I read a piece called ‘Sleeping With Poets.’ I satirized a female graduate student who attempted to absorb power from a visiting poet/teacher by seducing him. I also satirized celebrity poets who were vulnerable to such attentions.

“As I began to read, the atmosphere in the room thickened with disapproval. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was sorry I’d started. When I finished, the teacher tore into me. I was not politically correct, she said, in effect. One should never never never write about women in that way. She was unable to see that I’d also satirized the man. I never went back to that class, though I felt I needed help with my work, and the companionship of other women.”

The year before, Hunt had presented the same piece in a graduate workshop with Anais Nin, sponsored by International College. “Anais had enormous respect for the individual person and her vision,” Hunt says, “and she encouraged me to write honestly about women’s experiences. She was so taken with the piece that she presented it to Playgirl magazine herself.” The piece has yet to be published, but the contrast between the two experiences influenced the way Hunt now conducts her own workshops.

Some Los Angeles poets are ambivalent about Beyond Baroque as a source of support and an obstacle to growth.

Healy cites Beyond Baroque as an important source of support. “In 1976, they published my first book, “Building Some Changes,” she says. (She was the winner of their New Book Award.) “They printed and sent out 8,000 copies.”

For a few years, Healy had a standing invitation to read at the literary foundation each September. Then, the emphasis seemed to change and Healy felt systematically excluded for a period of years.

Grapes, cites the Venice Poetry Workshop at Beyond Baroque as a major source of support.

But Wanda Coleman, who has had more than 20 Beyond Baroque readings, feels that people are easily stereotyped by that organization. “They’ve never asked me to do a workshop, though I have extensive theatrical training and have a lot to offer the poet who is learning how to perform his work in public,” she says. “They seem to think I just naturally have rhythm.”

Coleman thinks Beyond Baroque missed a bet when it segregated Los Angeles poets from nationally and internationally known poets in their reading series. “It would have done a lot to break down the prejudice,” Coleman says.

Beyond Baroque director Phillips, on the job for less than a year, responds to criticism: “Many people are unaware of the process of getting readings and workshops here. Some are are invited to read and anyone may send a sample of work requesting a reading, or write us a workshop proposal. There are only 52 weeks in a year,” Phillips adds. “Every year deserving poets will be left out.

“We do our best to pair local with out of town poets,” he says, noting that it’s tricky sometimes to label a poet as either local or nationally known.

“I know what people are really complaining about when the complain about Beyond Baroque. For some reason, people feel unwelcome. I see as my single most important task to bring Los Angeles poets into an active role here. Los Angeles writers shouldn’t feel alienated from the only literary arts foundation that they have.”

Phillips plans a poetry convention--”a kind of gathering of the tribes,” as he puts it--a two or three-day series of discussion group to debate poetics and political problems and develop programs for local writers.

Los Angeles area poets not only struggle among themselves, but many feel ignored by the East Coast literary establishment. However, several nationally respected editors deny any prejudice against the city’s poets.

I don’t consider region when I read a manuscript,” says Laura Nash, poetry editor at Houghton Mifflin in Boston. “We do tend to look to Cambridge, because Harvard is close by. We think of Los Angeles as rather avant-garde, and Houghton Mifflin tends to be a fairly conventional house, but we do read new poets. It’s hard for any poet to gain a following. We only publish three collections of poetry a year. Unfortunately, we just discontinued a New Poets Series which brought in a great deal more new work. The last poet we published is from Texas.”

Douglas Messerli, who just moved his Sun and Moon press to Los Angeles from Washington, does not see Los Angeles as a major literary center. “Not enough Los Angeles poets are doing the work to get national recognition,” Messerli says. “There is a split between who is known in Los Angeles and who is known nationally. I had never heard of Holly Prado, for example, and she is very well known here. Clayton Eshleman is known in the East, and Lee Hickman’s Temblor (magazine) reaches the East Coast. I know more San Francisco poets, but there’s less diversity there. There is a healthy diversity of styles in Los Angeles.”

Daniel Halpern, editor of Ecco Press in New York, knew of Ann Stanford and Lawrence Spingarn because he had gone to school in the San Fernando Valley and had been their students. He knows Holly Prado’s work as a critic, and he knows Clayton Eshleman’s work as a translator and publisher because Eshleman lived in New York for a while. Halpern agrees with Nash that editors don’t sit down to read manuscripts with region in mind, unless the poetry itself is a poetry of place.

“If few Los Angeles poets have national reputations,” says Halpern, “it’s not because someone on the East Coast won’t publish Los Angeles poets.”

Maybe it’s because Los Angeles poets all too often have been obsessed with the local scene and all its various rivalries.

Says Healy, “we’re fighting all the wrong battles in Los Angeles and I’m tired of bearing the weight of that. When I was at MacDowell (the writer’s colony in New Hampshire) I could see how the East Coast writers made contacts and helped each other out.”