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Every third Sunday, except in the brutally hot summer months, the Valley’s own Esso Coffeehouse is the venue for a poetry event. Event host Russ Kasmierczak and Esso proprietor Sharon Kroger have decreed that every year, spoken word superstar Bill Campana, whose birthday is in December, shall be the December feature.

It was my honor and pleasure to fill in as host for Russ last night, he being needed in faraway Iowa. Here’s what I looked like as I hosted:

A dozen quite distinct poetic voices signed up for the open mic. Here is the list, and the mic, and the pen that was used to sign up:

And here all the open mic performers except the brilliant Roxanne Doty, who was so mesmerizing that I forgot to take her picture:

After a refreshment break, I introduced Bill, and he amazed us all with dozens of displays of verbal pyrotechnics.

After the enthusiastic applause died down, I went to the mic to wrap up, which, per long-standing tradition, included handing out a commemorative zine published by Russ prior to his departure.

I am proud to have hosted this December 2025 incarnation of the event. Big thanks to Russ and Sharon and all participants and helpers!

My hilarious poet friend Bill Campana, whom I mentioned a couple of posts ago, likes to experiment with photo editing. Unsolicited, he took a picture of me clownishly brandishing my deliberately-crazy hair, and did three takes wildly different from the already-wild original, and this one above is my favorite.

Bill has several books on Amazon. They are reasonably priced and fantastically cost-effective, mixing belly laughs, serious insights, and a zany perspective fine-tuned by brilliant wordsmithing. Please help alleviate the tragic underappreciativeness of Campaniana, and check him out pronto!!

Bill Campana, the Funniest Man on Earth

Mug Squared

My talented poet friend Bill

Holds a mug that I made for him. Will

He use it? You bet!

Mug on mug, no regret,

Caffeination’s his everyday thrill.

.

Long ago Bill Campana, pictured above, commissioned a coffee mug from me, and I made him one, and he used it for years. It accidentally broke, and though Bill has other mugs, the thought of him without a working mug of my design disquieted me. I gave him a new mug last Sunday, and he graciously posed for this pic, mugging for the camera. 🙂

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Earlier today I worked on a self-portrait which eventually became “Ukraine Sympathizer.” (See previous post for that end result.) As the painting progressed I posted successive stages as my profile picture on Facebook. I thought my friends would enjoy seeing how the painting progressed…

…and one friend in particular, whom I have repeatedly referred to on this blog as “the funniest man on earth,” poet and humorist Bill Campana, went so far as to do extreme photoedits on my developing headshot, creating a total of SEVEN variants on my originals. Above is one of his two favorites, and I think it’s terrific. It captures a psychological facet of mine that whim compels me to call “Relaxed Bastard Face.” As far back as grade school, friends, especially girls, have remarked on my tendency to scowl, and urged me to smile. Sometimes, truthfully, I’ve responded “But I AM smiling.” Deep-set eyes and naturally downturning mouth corners, plus an undeniable lifelong struggle with non-clinical bipolarity, scowlify me.

These three range from slight solarization to an almost Francis-Baconesque distortion of features. Each is a different experience.

Color and detail variation evoke a ghostliness and then an electricity. And notice in the ghostliness on the left, there is an articulated eye in the orbital shadow on our right. It does not exist in the original. The line between editing and creation blurs.

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And here is Bill’s other favorite. This one is my personal favorite as well. He’s taken the ore of my painting and smelted Mystery and Depth from it.  Here is a shadowy figure with serious matters troubling him. Perhaps it is the weight of the world, perhaps unrelieved sorrow, or he could just be worried about getting home safely. “Still waters run deep” is a phrase that comes to mind.

Profound thanks to my friend Bill Campana, who did something special today, creative and revelatory. Thanks also, Bill, for graciously allowing me to share our collaboration with my readers/viewers worldwide.

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out of respect and admiration for the subject of this post, valley performance poet bill campana, lowercase will be used throughout, in the style (if not with the astonishing wit) of bill’s outstanding poetry.

bill took me to breakfast this morning. it was part of a deal we’d agreed on to put a ceramic vase i’d made, and bill had seen in my blog post “foom-bozzle-wozzle, part 3,” on long-term loan to bill. it is now in bill’s possession, and i’m proud as can be.

bill and i go back more than ten years, back to my early days of poetry performance, when i was still nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and bill was supplementing his income with serious money earned by winning poetry slam competitions. in 2010 bill was the host of a the open-mic poetry event “sound effects,” and in may of that year he decreed that may 2010 was “gary bowers month.” that decree incentivized me to write, and perform, some of my best poetry.

pondering why he “gary bowers month”ed me way back when, bill attributes it to impulse: “i just did it.” but once he did it, he stuck to it, and riffed on it, and made a real something out of his impulsive throwaway thought.

and that, i think, is some of what makes his poetry enduring and deep, and much more than funny. under the hilarity is solid structure and soul.

as for the breakfast, at the ranch house grill on east thomas road, it was magnifent. we both had the signature dish of the day, a pork chili verde omelet, with hashbrowns and toast–i had sourdough and bill had the rye. conversation bounced around from bill’s grandfather, to lingering terminal illness, to personal health, to connecting with grade-school friends, to books, to the three stooges, to lou grubb and his progeny, to local tv persomalities, and on and on. one of many interesting facts: in the first grade, bill read thirty books. by way of reward his teacher sent him a fancy book, and inscribed it “to william.” it was a book about dinosaurs. so bill was into dinosaurs long before “jurassic park” roused public interest in them.

i am going to rent a car and take bill to the matt’s big breakfast on 32nd street and camelback a couple of weeks up the road. “we should do this more often,” one of us said, so we will.

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Four friends, four poets, four engaging souls,  four celebrations. Three are also event hosts and one is also participating in the Index Card A Day challenge, just as I am.

I acquired the photo I used for this drawing from a bittersweet event conducted by Four Chambers Press, which was closing its metaphorical doors. Called “From Our Heart To Yours,” the event was one last get-together that included a giveaway of everything Four Chambers had produced yet not sold. I took one of their anthologies, one of their poet’s chapbooks, a photo of Jake Friedman at a microphone–and the photo I based this drawing on. Among the liberties I took with the pic was moving the four poets around to achieve a more Mount-Rushmore-like arrangement.

4 Poets

Formed the phrases grab and pop

Forgotten time rebirthed just so

Foregone conclusion laid to waste

Formalities seem silliest

Foretaste of life’s peculiar truths

With this poem the requirement of a poem per day for National Poetry Writing Month will be fulfilled. Bonus/extra poetry will appear under “NaPoWriMo Poem for April 31,” “NaPoWriMo Poem for April 32,” etc. We’ll see if I can get to April 50 before the end of the month. [smiles]

not a love letter to a dead dog or two, but it might as well be

he was my best friend
and his name courtesy of my daughter
was william doglas bowers.

that’s not a typo. it’s d-o-g-l-a-s.
i haven’t seen him in nigh on five years,
because that’s when he died.

i harbor no illusions that he’s smiling down at me from dog heaven;
even if there was one, he’d have far better things to do;
but no, my sad surmise is that when he got the big sleep
courtesy of the strong drug intravenously applied
that smacked him so hard his eyes never closed
he was completely extinguished,

and that,
given the joy he gave me and the rest of his family,
defines tragedy better than any play or headline.

i so hope i am wrong.
some quantum physicists are now bruiting about the continuity of consciousness
via transport of the energy state/configurations in “brain microtubules,”
but i think even the smartest of us are desperate enough
to indulge in creative wishful thinking.
i am glad that they think so, though,
especially since they are smarter than me.

if bill does indeed continue,
and if further he’s free of the dysplasia and other physical woes he wore,
then that undoubtedly means that cowboy,
dog of my childhood,
has persisted.
they may even meet and exchange that-stupid-gary stories.
they may romp,
with bill mocking his dysplasia as romplstiltskin,
and cowboy might then reenact his epic encounter with the horse in the meadow,
or the skunk at camp geronimo,
but all of this has a probability vanishingly small.

i wish i could tell bill
about this other bill
who is only vaguely doglike,
and that only in the fact that he does amazing tricks,
only they’re with words.

i wish i could tell cowboy
that that line in the song “mister bojangles” is an understatement.
“after twenty years he still grieves.”
twenty years?
chicken feed…

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I’m delighted to report the existence of SAID BEAUTY TO THE BLUES, which contains over a hundred poems by the unbelievably droll and incisive bill campana. (Faithful readers of the blog know that I deem him the Funniest Man On Earth.) Bill also designed the cover, a throwback to his high school yearbook, including the duct tape. (That’s a photo, not actual duct tape, Folks.)

In this book you will find the pith of Stephen Crane and the vinegar of H. L. Mencken–but the vinegar is used sparingly and the pith advances great, hilarious storytelling. Go to Amazon if you must for some examples, and I’ll provide you a link to do so, but the best way to sample bill’s spoken (and occasionally yelled) word is via live performance in the Valley of the Sun. (“How hot was it?” he asked the Caffeine Corridor audience of the Valley weather. “It was so hot, I filled my beanbag chair with frozen peas.”) And here, with bill’s gracious permission, is my illustrative embellishment of bill’s “fall programming”:

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Long story short: the best way to Support The Arts, folks, is to get yourself a copy of this terrific book, get yourself into a frozen-peas-filled beanbag chair, and read and laugh and think and enjoy.

Here’s the link, as promised: http://www.amazon.com/Said-Beauty-Blues-Bill-Campana/dp/1938190173/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1397598140&sr=8-1&keywords=said+beauty+to+the+blues

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Two days ago my Sweetheart was on the phone with her daughter. We had intended to go to the Adopt-For-Life shelter and rescue one of their Kitty-Cats; so as a friendly reminder, and not to interrupt the conversation, I quickdrew the above and held it where Denise could see it. She smiled and interrupted the conversation to tell me the shelter wasn’t open, it being MLK Day.

One day ago we left home at 2:00 PM and returned with Cookie:

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She is rocking our world.

Stellar poet Bill Campana made this comment when I posted Cookie on Facebook:

you can’t write a cat poem unless you have a cat.

I soon replied:

for you, bill:

catku

sylvester’s sister
in glorious black & white
graces our presence

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Four years ago I kicked off my “Lives of the Eminent Poets of Greater Phoenix” with two of my favorite Valley Poets. One was Victoria Hoyt, with whom I’m co-featuring at the April 2014 edition of Balboa House Poetry. The other is the man I depicted above, Mr. Bill Campana, who, since George Carlin has passed, I am reasonably certain is the Funniest Man on Earth. Today is Bill’s birthday, and I wish him all the best.

Words:

Bluff, and stand-up-comical, and full of manic manna
It’s a wonder he’s still local–catch him if you can
Laudably SELF-AMPLIFIED: you will hear from this man
Las Vegas @ the Palace or perhaps the Tropicana

Bill commissioned a coffee mug from me, and says of my posted birthday wish for him, “thanks, gary. it’s muggier when i drink out of your coffee mug.” He uses lower case in his online communications, so as further tribute to him the title of this post is in lower case.

Last time I saw Bill was at the home of Julie Elefante and Robert Lee, and I took this picture of him:

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Again–Happy Birthday, Bill!