JOEL LIPMAN R.I.P.

I know two poets named Joel Lipman. One of them has just died. That Joel Lipman was a dearest friend in my L.A. years. He's pictured above in the mostly white shirt in the upper left corner just behind Michael Harris who is head to head with Hubert Selby Jr. whose shoulder I'm leaning on in the background behind Eve Brandstein.

The photo makes Joel look young and easy going and was taken at one of our weekly poetry readings in the series Poetry In Motion that Eve and I ran for several years in the 1980s and '90s. Everyone in the photo was a regular at those weekly readings, to which Joel always brought a hard-edged realism, usually with narrative poems about his experiences growing up in a rough neighborhood in Chicago (check out this video of him reading a piece about those years) or his carrying the attitude those years left him with into the Hollywood encounters he later faced in the film business.

I knew Joel as a tough but honorable person, with integrity and clarity in all encounters. I cherish the books he gave me for my birthdays, always rare and exactly what I wanted though I hadn't known I did until I got them (like Brendan Behan's New York, in which his inscription begins "this book reminds me of you and it belongs on your shelf..."). I loved this man and am sorry I hadn't been in touch so much in recent years so I could have told him that.

My condolences to his family first of all, and then to his many friends and fans, among whom I was and am proud to be counted.