The first time I went to the Cleveland Public Library in 1970, I found levy's three 1963 letterpress books which I've recently reprinted. Also, they had a copy of “ukanhavyrfuckinciti bak” which was the first massive collection of levy's work as well as testimonials about him. The book was edited by rjs (a close levy friend/co-chair of the Cleveland State University Planning committee for “the gate”/publisher) and printed by t.l. kryss (another close friend/silkscreen artist/publisher/poet) in 1968 while levy was still alive.

I spent the next couple years trying to find “one death in the life of julie” and other levy poetry in bookstores/libraries across the states. I found his madison poems chapbook in the Harvard Literature Library & a couple of concrete pieces at the University of Toronto Library. When I found books that had levy's poetry, I would send inquiry letters to the publisher's addresses. I never received a reply.

In a stupid attempt at getting a copy of “citibak,” my friends went along with my scheme to liberate the book from the Cleveland Public Library. One friend was to check out the book for internal library use only, I was going to drop the book out the window & another friend was to pick it up outside. Everything went well except that a security guard decided to take a smoke break underneath the window & almost was hit on the head. The plan failed, but nobody got into trouble. Years later when a reporter was doing a story on levy, the librarian told her this story.

I put a sign on the glass door of Coventry Books in Cleveland Heights asking to borrow someone's copy of “citibak.” A few weeks later, a woman loaned me her copy. In those days before the large reproduction outlets, the most common place for photocopies was at the post office. My buddy & I carefully took apart the book & began photocopying the pages (printed both sides). When that photocopy machine broke down at one post office, we drove to another branch. When that photocopy machine ran out of paper, I drove home & brought back my own reams of paper. I think it cost me $27 to copy the book. A few years later after I had my own copy, I used the photocopied pages inside my magazine (white heap 01) which had a levy tribute section. Each copy had a different photcopied page from the book.

Bob Holman: How did the idea of reprinting levy's poetry come to you?

Alan Horvath: In the beginning of 1975, I began corresponding with rjs. I was able to buy a copy of “citibak” as well as the entire run of buddhist third class junkmail oracle (which was levy's last newspaper tabloid series). I offered to help rj with his productions which he had recently started to publish after a number of years away. I helped collate/staple/glue many of rjs' publications for a few years. Once, he showed me my self-addressed stamped envelope that I had included with an inquiry letter which I sent to him four years earlier when I was still searching for levy publications.

In return for my help, rj gave me t.l. kryss' mimeograph that was used to print “citibak.” The mimeo wasn't working, but bending a couple of the parts into their original shape allowed it to function mechanically. Printing was another story. It was an old A.B. Dick liquid ink mimeograph that liked to bleed over everything. This mimeograph served as the ultimate editorial tool. I really had to believe in someone's poem to spend the hours of frustration to reproduce 100 copies on that mimeo. One of the first books I printed was a reprint of levy's “tombstone as a lonely charm” which had not been mass distributed in Cleveland in its complete form.

Besides various magazines and chapbooks of local Cleveland poets (see the list in next week's history), eventually I reprinted levy's “praps i” series & two books of rarer levy poems [barking rabbit & red cat of reason (barking too)].

Recently I've begun publishing again. Partially because those dormant cells are still flickering; partially because for the first time in 10 years, I was re-assigned from spending 6 – 9 months a year living in a motel room to a desk job at the corporate office. Through a Kent, Ohio bookstore owner, I became aware of various rare book distributors on the Internet who were selling original levy publications for an arm & a leg. Even reprinted chapbooks that I helped rj assemble in the '70s were going for $30 – $50. Since there is presently a renewed interest in levy, I didn't feel that these books should be locked away in a library or an affluent person's bookcase. & so I am reprinting these books myself & charging a minimal amount. It's too “corporate” to figure out how much they really cost. No grants. No nothing. The only person I report to is my wife who has to live with stacks of paper in our living room, dining room, breakfast nook & family room.

Bob Holman: What is your relationship to poetry?

Alan Horvath: That's a tough one. Almost like asking: “What is poetry?” The easier question is: “What isn't poetry?” It seems to me that poetry is divided into a couple of different camps: “academic,” “non-academic” & “street.”

With “academic poetry” it seems to me that the ability to say anything is mired by form & structure. I usually need a dictionary & a book on Greek mythology to try & understand what is being portrayed. This then raises the question, is the poem a “good” bad poem or a “bad” good poem? Too many questions to answer with not enough rewards.

“Non-academic poetry” is free verse written by “normal” people (which have a broad range from “genius” to “almost completely insane”). This poetry has the potential for actually conveying emotions, ideas, stories, etc. to other “normal” people (same range). When a friend sent me a stack of poems to select for a chapbook, I took them to breakfast at Fatty Patty's which is a white trash restaurant in Vancouver, WA. After I read a poem, I would have my wife read it & rate it. My wife, who doesn't like or care about poetry, would rate a poem high when she couldn't understand it. She placed the blame of misunderstanding upon herself. In most cases, it was because it was a bad poem or had a muddied section which needed clarification. Too often a lot of poets write the initial blast of an idea & never refine it. To them, when they read it aloud, it says what they want to say. On the paper, without the vocal inflections & tonality, it rests as a half-baked poem needing a key to unlock it. Poets also like to confess everything. In some cases, this is good when the apocalypse is something the reader can share. A lot of times it is the poet's little secret to him/her self which still has the validity to be written, but maybe not progress past the workbook stage. Another bad habit that these poets cultivate is prefacing their poetry at readings. Most of these preambles are longer and more revealing than the poems themselves. If they need to explain so much about one of their poems, then the poem is missing the most important points. If they weren't explaining/reading the poem in public, would they need to have a mini “what does this mean” page in front of every poem in a chapbook?

just read the damn poem

at poetry readings
both good &
mediocre poets tend
to preface their work
with short stories:
about how the poem
was written on a tuesday
or that this poem,
which is about picking
tomatoes,
is not really about
picking tomatoes.

most of their stories
are usually longer
& better than
the crap that they
read as their poems.

if I need to be told
that a poem is about
their mother dying from cancer,
this tells me that they couldn't
figure out how to put this
information into the poem
in the first place.

if you cannot comprehend
my meaning to this poem,
then I haven't
done my fucking job
& you should ponder
these thoughts at
your earliest convenience.

--Alan Horvath

“street poetry” usually has a lot of flash. Perhaps the most apparent form today is the poetry slam. It has been described to me as a poetry “gong show.” Poets seem to either like it a lot or hate it with a passion. On one hand it could be viewed as reducing all the bullshit into sound bites; on the other hand it becomes a forum for performance artists (which might be considered borderline poetry). If someone has a good “immediate” short poem, but doesn't have stage presence, will he get a 2.3?

I knew a poet in the '70s who said that he would feel ill if he didn't write something every day. One time I went to his house & he was wearing a fucking pyramid on his head when “pyramid power” was really popular. He thought it helped him to write. He would carry a pad & pencil everywhere so that he'd be prepared when the creativity flowed. I told him I thought the real poem was in the “living” of the idea and not the “writing it down.” A lot easier to “sound off” in a poem than to actually “live” the idea. Walk the talk. This is why I didn't write for about 18 years, but probably became a better person for it.

This brings it all back to the original question: What is my relationship to poetry? I guess it boils down to respect for good poetry. A good poem, no matter whether it's 2 lines or 200 lines, shares something with the reader, was created by a poet who used the best possible words to describe his/her vision & is read by someone who puts forth equal effort.

Bob Holman: How do you reconcile the time spent publishing other people's poetry and finding time to write your own poems?

Alan Horvath: I think the excitement of publishing is based upon a desire to share a well-written poem with someone else. In the days when I was printing magazines & accepting submissions, occasionally I'd find someone's poetry unique enough to want to make the commitment to spend the time/money/effort to produce their chapbook.

In a sense, assembling a good chapbook is the same as assembling a good magazine. Instead of looking at poems as being individual, you need to observe the publication as a whole. You look for a flow; pieces, when assembled, present a story.

All this takes time while you go through the various procedures of selecting the poems, placing them in an order, typing, selecting the paper stock, printing, stamping, cutting, collating, folding, stapling, taping, or gluing by yourself. Then you need to find somebody to print a cover (or do it yourself). It takes a lot of “belief” and “dedication” to complete a project when there are plenty of distractions in life which want to consume your time as well as your own poetry. I still have a printed collection of my own poems from the '70s (. . . a Series of SHARP POINTS) that is in boxes waiting to be completed.

I'm not sure if there is a balance between spending time hand-publishing other people's chapbooks versus having the creative outlet for writing your own. You discover that something gets the short end of the stick. It becomes time for a personal choice. You have to decide if it's better to create 100 copies of a very good poetry book (by whomever) than to spend the time to write one mediocre poem.

Either choice is better than cleaning the gutters.

Bob Holman: How are your books sold?

Alan Horvath: A couple of bookstores in the Cleveland area are stocking the new levy reprints. Also in Ohio, they are sold via the Asphodel Book Shop: 17192 Ravenna Road, Burton, Ohio 44021. Or orders can be sent to me at: A. Horvath, P.O. Box 2943, Vancouver, WA 98668-2943. A set of the 4 new levy reprints is $24 (including priority mail). Send for a list of older books.

For more about d.a. levy & his new book just published by Seven Stories Press, The Buddhist Third Class Junkmail Oracle: the Art and Poetry of d.a. levy, look back at our alternative distribution feature & its collection of levy links. You can also find these d.a. levy books on special order at Borders.com:

• Collected Poems (Druid Books, 1991)
• Madison Poems & Collages (Quixote Books)
• Zen Concrete & Etc. (Ghost Pony Press, 1991)

Check back next week for a fascinating history of Alan Horvath's publishing projects & another poem, “thinking about john glenn.”

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