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This week marks the third Poetry Café event by the City of Las Vegas, and the lineup continues to grow: Jeffrey McDaniel, Derrick Brown, Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz, Shappy Seasholtz, Kevin Sampsell, Patricia Smith, Jerry Quickley, Dayvid Figler (the press release says he's the emcee but just try and stop him from versifying), Andy Kenyon and Bruce Isaacson. Throw in the Pete Contino Group for musical entertainment and Dino's Lounge for soothing parched throats, and you have all the makings for a pair of nights worth of Homer (Greek, not Simpson).
Brown, one of the featured poets, has a past as colorful as his writing, having worked as a paratrooper, gondolier, columnist, weatherman and lead singer of the John Wilkes Kissing Booth.
Why did you choose a magic theme for www.brownpoetry.com?
I used to be a magician at the Knotts Berry Farm magic shop when I was 16. As I got older, I toured the U.S., performing stage illusions, which led to a failed love affair with Alyssa Milano. I still break out some sleight of hand whenever I want to sabotage a date or when I want children to come near my van.
Both your book titles, If Lovin' You Is Wrong, I Don't Want To Be Wrong and I'm Easier Said Than Done, play with twisting cliched phrases around. Is that indicative of your work?
I'll leave being clever for the British and the writers of. I'd rather think that violent romanticism is at the core of the work, and the twisted lines are a by-product of Jameson [Irish whiskey] and fearless idiocy.
The work of the other writers flown in from all over the country at this event is outstanding. Each is unique compared to my style and absolutely mind-blowing. Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz is an intuitive voice bursting apart lifeless vaginas. Shappy is part poet, part devil baby of Mitch Hedberg and Stan Lee. Jerry Quickley was a journalist in Iraq before he got kicked out, Jeff McDaniel will be the next U.S. poet laureate, and so many more poets it's hard to remember.
Why do you think you weren't picked when you appeared on The Dating Game? Was it because you were giving answers in verse?
I didn't get picked 'cause when the girl said, "Bachelor No. 2, what does the sign outside of your house say?" I said "It says, 'Saucy Boulevard. I Hope You Brought Your Noodles.' Oh, and I lost 'cause I said I was a schoolteacher and the other two dicks said they were models and lawyers.
Why do you often refer to poetry as the bastard child of the arts, when it's one of the oldest forms?
Respect for poets is so minimal compared to the vast amounts of prestige poured upon classical musicians, theater and face-painters. The benefits of this art form is that it has camaraderie and a true network. Prose writers never get to tour the world and crash on couches and get in fistfights at readings. The world for traveling poets is open and it is a raw world.
Your verse isn't the namby-pamby stuff most people probably think of when you say "poetry." It's more like man's-man poetry, with images of knives, guns and violence mixed in with the sex and longing. Why aren't you writing about romantic sunsets and losing yourself in some woman's eyes like the rest of the kids?
Pastoral poetry was sent down by God for people to write who have boring sex and can't hold their liquor down. I write pastoral stuff every now and then only because I have boring liquor and can't hold my sex down.
What was the crack about Yuma you made that got you fired as a weatherman in Flagstaff?
I was doing the highs for the day: "Forty-eight in the Grand Canyon today, down in Prescott we got 54, Phoenix checking in with 96 and Yuma—well, who cares about Yuma." Boom, I was toast. They said, "This isn't Saturday Night Live!" I said, "You hired me because you wanted me to be funny. Make up your damn mind!" Toast. A small waitress from Thailand the next month said, "Oh hey, you're the guy that hates Yuma. Very funny."
When I Googled your name, I also got hits for a basketball player in Dayton, Ohio, two photographers and a body builder. What's the connection?
I'm the one in the Speedo with the taut pecs and the glossy onyx skin. You will also be amused to find that my grandmother was Sadie Marzie Bush from Texas, cousin to all the Bushes in power.
If you had to write a poem about Las Vegas, what are some of the words or images you'd use?
The gondolas at the Venetian with the electric foot pedals are sacrilegious.
The Nine Fine Irishmen Pub is religious.
A Celine Dion gift shop is funny.
Danny Gans is not funny.
I am the champagne room.