In Memoriam: A Tribute to Neeli Cherkovski
The news of Neeli’s passing added one more to the litany of fallen greats. He cherished friendships and would share his encyclopedic mind willingly, nonstop, as often one had ears for it. I enjoyed our time together. He first knew me as a grad student at New College of California. Departmental echelons kept us apart; I was a Tom Clark/ David Meltzer student working my way toward an MFA in Poetics. He was teaching undergrad, I think.
We met often in the library where I was working circulation or back in the Archives I had formalized out of the contents of several unmarked boxes. Once it was sorted, alphabetized, and shelved, our tiny archives gleamed. Everyone wanted to come visit. When the school shut down, they dumped everything. We lost numerous first editions, rare print magazines, and early SF Queer newspapers. I was not on campus that day or I would have tried to save it. Years later, Neeli gifted me with a priceless edition of Beatitude with Bob Kaufman on the cover. I will take good care of it.
It could be said that Neeli was a prolific genius. He got on some people’s nerves. Understandable. When Kevin Dublin told me Raymond Foye was planning a memorial issue, and asked if I had a piece to contribute, I knew what I wanted to say. If you knew him, you knew the moka pot and his back porch. If you knew basketball, baseball, or poetry, he loved to discuss at length. And, if you were open to it, various pipes stuffed with various leaves would emerge and brandy would flow to sweeten your cup. This is how I choose to remember him. This is how conversations endure.
Read about SF Beats and Raymond Foye’s relationship with Neeli and Bob Kaufman here.
For Neeli
Together
we collect afternoons
of poetry talk
fueled by repeated pours
from your moka pot
Enhanced with sweet brandy & many
pipes of your new favorite tobacco
ordered special from England
I leave the pouch
visit again, leave another
April 4, 2016
Meltzer still with us
you write to me
it is the dozenth poem
a perennial first poem
Now
every one of them is precious
this one is entitled Robert Grenier
I respond
The rain, falling water
speaks unrhymed syllables
against the window
spilling wine, broken hearts
begging for steam
washing ashes
thank you
once again
https://brooklynrail.org/2024/09/in-memoriam/youssef-alaoui-cherkovski/
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| Portrait of Neeli Cherkovski, pencil on paper by Phong H. Bui. |