Artie Gold 1947-2007

More sad news of an obituary nature (something these web logs seem to do well). Artie Gold, who was an interesting but reclusive poet from the Vehicule era in Montreal poetry, is dead. He liked cats, and his beer. I only met him a couple of times, but have one of his books. Complicated poetry. Not your moon-noon-june stuff, and I'm not sure if you could get laid reciting it (if that ever happens outside of a Leonard Cohen-type fantasy.) He was periodically ill, and troubled, but a gentle guy.

We've missed his memorial get-together at the Word Bookstore last Wednesday, but he's having an estate sale, at his apartment on March 24. 7336 Sherbrooke St. West, Apt. 7.

Hope it's cool putting this, and the picture, courtesy Endre Farkas (at right), on the blog, but the e-mail containing it all said to pass it on. There are shelves of Antique Bottles, classical albums, and "incredible collectibles." And the money raised will go to hiring an archivist to catalogue his 20 boxes of literary papers.

Todd Swift on Artie: [link]
Brian Campbell has a poem of his: [link]

I'm always curious where the sketch books of mine will end up after an amount of time. Probably in the landfill, but I like to think they will pass on to some strange curio shop, and give somebody a moment's pause going through them. Of course, Robert Crumb's bought him a villa in France, but I haven't created any iconic images that are (or were) hanging in everyone's room.