Marco Polo’s Bio
Adopted from an e-mail inquire from the nephew of the excellent poet James A. Emanuel
This Photographing-Poet-Teacher-Errant prefers listening to others over chatting about this undeserving self. Others are by far more interest because already know the Self very thoroughly. Rather refer inquires to this senescent Scop’s Homepage: www.marcopolopoet.nl If you read the poems chronologically they form a kind of Homeric biography of a rootless Wonder in search of the Golden Grail of Wisdom-&-Beauty* in our old, insane but Beautiful spacecraft Earth.
Since the poems on the Website only start in 1984 (appropriately enough on 1 April) with Arrival some background may be of interest: Tho have been penning 5th rate ditties all this ancient Rhymer’s life-long days (which began in The BIG Apple on 29 December 1945, or so the documents & Ma & Pa say) only the advent of courage, a small nest-egg and notebook computers have saved this old Bard from bourgeoisdom.
Like your revered Uncle James A. Emanuel this senescent Scop went to Columbia but certainly did not earn a doctorate—only learned to Think from Wonderful Professor Herman Ausable and others—all recalled with Affection, Respect and Thanks!
Growing up worked in Father’s retail/wholesale jewelry business on Fun City’s famed “Jewelry & Diamond Way” (West 47th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues). Then taught the Self goldsmithing and started a business making tourist orient golden crap which peddled island-to-island in the Caribbean in the 70’s hating the self all the while. The bourgeois pieces-of-eight earned the daily bread but not self-respect for this then closet Bard.
Fortunately, the dramatic rise in gold prices in the late 70’s put this Bard, not sadly, out of business. After a two year, unsuccessful stint as a real estate agent where starvation was the way of life, to earn a modicum of daily bread started hacking a famed NYC YellowCab in the early 80’s. After a half year had saved a 17-G nest-egg and when a hippy passenger said he had just returned from Paris and that a room there could be had reasonably enough decided to chuck the hack for larger Travels.
From 1984 to 1992 (with six-month, BIG Apple, YellowCab hacking sentences every few years to refresh the coffers—see Pursuit) roamed this Beautiful, tho sadly insane, spacecraft Earth from The North to Baling Hai. On Eve of Valentine’s Day 1992 landed in SPB (St. Petersburg, Russia) intending to stay about six months and never gotten around to leaving until 7 April 2007 when moved to live in The City-o-Light with Adored WIFE Olinka. .
Now have had 16 major Loves, alas, unrequited—which is nothing compared to Russia’s incomparable poet Pushkin who at this Bard’s age was already dead for more than 20 years and who has claimed in writing 113 MAJOR, REQUITED Loves! …
Also, this ancient Rhymer has had two major disappointments: Beloved daughter April was kidnapped when she was six days old. And most loving thief bro lee stole the inheritance (more than a cool million bananas at today’s market value) that dear departed Ma & Pa intended to comfort their prodigal son’s old age.
Now this old hippy/beat Bard lives hand-to-mouth in Paris, France, Enjoys being *Paradise Wed! to the most Wondrous Muse in the entire beautiful universe Olinka, Communicating, Culturizing, Nymphs and teaching English.
To answer the question about this undeserving Scop’s acquaintanceship with your esteemed uncle, poet James A. Emanuel, attended a poetry reading (in the Pompedue Center) in Paris in the late Sunning Spring of 1985 where your Uncle read. Tho this “Bard” is decidedly 5th rate, do have enough street-wise, Columbia U honed sense to recognize a Major Poet when Kind Fortune organizes a meeting. So after the reading accousted your Illusrious Uncle and the rest of the beginning is told in The Lunch.
There rest of this ancient Rhymer’s life, if there be any interest, can be
gleaned from a chronologically
reading of his 5th rate diddies.
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