Make A Living As A Poet

The Tumbleweed Hotel

2011-12-15T01:21:00.000-08:00

Sad news about George Whitman passing. Like so many people Margaret and I spent a week in Paris at Shakespeare and Company as his guests. Our thoughts are with Sylvia and her family. Here is a story from Ears on Fire about our week with George.

Every substance has a burning point at which any increase in temperature causes a burst of flame. When we travel we know the history of places that once grew to fire. We search them out hoping a little spark will be left. A glow on which to warm our hands to feel what Rome was like. To stumble into a café and find Picasso and Appolonaire. Mostly we are groping in the dark unable to feel that heat.

Paris life is fascinating. Full of gorgeous flirty people, full of stunning flirty history, statues, paintings, lights, action. Still, as a newcomer you can walk for days awed by the beauty but feel the prime is gone, a city of museums, a keeper of relics. Hemingway once drank beer in this café. This is where Sartre and De Bouliver huddled. Would you like a seven-dollar cup of coffee?

Then you turn into Shakespeare and Company bookstore, sitting on the bank of the Seine across from Notre Dame. George Whitman is at the helm and you are thrust into the thick of the book. The pages swirl, turn around you. Open your mouth let the words spill. You are a character sleeping in the Tumbleweed Hotel, the rooms above the bookstore.

I hear a voice so close to Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s I have to look to see if it is he. This is when I realize how much the two men have gotten from each other and how much these two book-sellers/ writers share. Whitman handsome and sharp at 84 is holding a blackened-bottom mess kit frying pan. He comes into his bookstore. The clerk shows him his recent straightening up of the shelves, to which George replies, “Good, yes they look good.” I ask him how the Tumbleweed Hotel is doing. Sizing me up, says,
“I can book you a room for two.”
“Well we are leaving to catch a train in a few hours.”
“Where are you from?”
“San Francisco.”
“What is your occupation?”
“Poet.”
“Then for God’s sake you have to stay, we’re having a pancake breakfast tomorrow morning, a tea party in the afternoon and a poet from Bengal is reading on Monday.”
“We’ll take it.”
The clerk hands me the keys.
“Go on, it’s two flights up; the big double bed in the back.”
“What do you think of San Francisco’s poet laureate?”
“Tell me they chose Ferlinghetti, we’ve been traveling since February.”
“Who else? You’ll be staying in his bed.”

The front room is books from floor to ceiling. Entering the back bedroom, you enter a sanctuary. The walls here are half bookshelves and half photo gallery. Copies of photos of Anais Nin, Henry Miller, Lawrence Durell, all with inscriptions to George. Photos of George as a young man around the blazing fire of the wishing well, where they held the readings. I pick up a book, a play by Picasso, The Second Sex, and Ginsberg’s collected poems and see that they all are signed. The feeling of the authors presence is strong, they had slept here, drank here, written here. Now it was my turn.

Where are you from? It is a question we all ask, gives us a magnet, a pull. Where? Why not? Each shard of light from the sun, each moment from the bell. I look in you, the mirror. I am from here knowing the lie. What are you made of? We ask when that fails.
I am sweet of air molecules. I am from Paris, but that will not last, the last free room in the world.

I look down to the Seine. I see a woman drawing; she includes me in her sketch. I include her in this poem. She is tiny, far away. She leans on the wall. I search for words to describe her. I wonder where she is from. She kneels down. Her paper rippling in the wind. She packs up, walks towards Notre Dame. I can still see her. She stops, sits down, looks for an angle, anything to capture with her hand, puts it down on paper, and lodges it in her memory. She has found it, takes out her tools, begins to work, gives up, ascends the steps, going back from were she came.

The light on the tour bus rests on the woman’s hair. The cobblestones. The spires,
gargoyles shinning. The cars are full of laughter. Everyone knows where he or she is going. Where they are coming from. So why is it so hard to answer? Do you need a map? Are you your job? Are you your body? Your mind?

Is this a Buddha quest? Buddha questions? What is this a maze? To hold the miniature Minotaure? Keep him in a cage. Yes, the question binds to you as well as any handcuffs. You are from where you are, we all can see that in the mirror; just look.

George is down-stairs, in front of the bookstore. He is dressed in coat and tie. He is from here. From inside these walls. He makes his home. Opens it like a monastery of the word. Why would he ever want to be from somewhere else? Paris. Here comes the mailman, another letter, four decades of mail. George watches him walk away.

I find letters to George tucked away in books from many of the writers who have stayed here, a museum of words, a temple of skill.

For over 40 years, George has presided over his bookstore. It has been his passion, his view of the world. You may be asked to stay, given a room. Thousands of people have been his guests. He never asks for a penny. All he asks for is an autobiography just a word or two about you. Wants to know where you are from? Of course sometimes he shouts at people, shouts, “Where is my damn autobiography?” or “Who left the skin on this pumpkin, I thought you said you could cook!” Once quietly he said, “You say you are a poet but even your wife doesn’t believe you.”

Ok George, here it is:
Oklahoma, Texas, New York, California, Paris.
Eighteen years I worked in a florist. Always the plan to use the money to become a poet
Now I am.
Because of you, I live here now, so this is where I am from as much as anywhere. Your kingdom of words that line up and dance, a can-can of wisdom! Showing their naked butts to the world, bare ass books, open their dresses, and flash the light of the goddess. O purple prose will you ever fail me?

Where? It is a map to your heart. A peg to hang your skin.

Where is George from? Once he was from Panama, as he writes in the Panama American on April 3, 1938:
“Panama! It has a sonorous sound for an Indian Word. In aboriginal language, it means the land of bountiful fish. To the Spaniards, it meant gold. But to me Panama is a tiny dot on a map of the earth, which I have drawn at odd moments. Between this dot and other similar dots there stretches a red line. This line represents the trajectory of the journey I am working around the world. It twists back and fourth from Greenland to Tiara Del Fuego, from Cape Town Africa to Urga Mongolia. Through all six continents and seven seas.”

But where is he from originally?
“I was born in New Jersey, lived 15 years in Salem Massachusetts. Home of the daring sea captains who sailed the famous clipper ships to China and India. I spent a year in China, where my father taught at Nanking University. I traveled through Turkey, Greece, and Europe, when I was a boy of 12. Studied journalism at Boston U: I am now roughing it around the world in order to get a background for journalistic work later on.”

Later George would fall in love with books. Would root, grow into Paris. Cut him open count the rings. See this year was good for poetry. This is a translation, a transcription a neurotransmitter crossing a synapse, a spark throbbing inside.

Today the bookstore is closed. The movie crew is making the inside of the bookstore look like the inside of a bookstore! Catherine Deneuve is nowhere in sight. I am an erect baguette. I sense you looking into my pigeon eyes. A group of children walks by holding hands. Please stop reading and hold my hand. Now I feel safe. Inside this book where you have found me. Are you a detective or just lonely? So many poets have slept here it feels like an orgy, just lying here reading; “Excuse me Ferlinghetti would you please pass me Anais Nin?”

Yesterday at the tea party a woman told a story of how when she was a little girl her parents brought her to see a friend of theirs, “Now don’t be alarmed she loves a tree.”
The woman brought the little girl into the backyard; “They must have told you I’m mad, in love with a tree.” She threw her arms around the trunk and hugging it said, “When you can have this why would you want a man?” Arbor-sexual This is something like around here, Biblio-sexual. You may love books, but please be careful with your thrusting, and never use your tongue for a bookmark. That’s word from the river Seine, where all the children are tumbleweeds and the bookseller an angel in disguise.

The poet from Bengal does not show up. George asks if I would like to give the reading. Because of the film crew, we moved the reading upstairs to the writer’s apartment. Some students from Madrid, and a few regulars. I read my reply to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130, called “Dear Mr. Sonnet 130”, had one of the guys read the lines from Shakespeare. Then I read in the dark woman’s voice. If the Bengali poet had showed up I wouldn’t have gotten to read. My resume would never have truly reflected where I am from poetically speaking. I am from Shakespeare and Company; I am the poet in residence.
This is my address:
37 Rue De La Bucherie, 75005, Paris France.
Please write me soon...

Shakespeare and Company is a pilgrimage, a monument, each time I look out of the window someone is taking a photo of the store. They will take it back from where they are from, put it in an album and say I was there.

Here let me show you around the place. That is were Simon touched the tip of her pen to the “Second Sex.” Here is where Ginsberg clipped his beard. This refrigerator contains food made by Sylvia Beach for Pound. Now step in here this is the bedroom so full of ghosts, I think the cockroach on my forehead at night is Henry Miller.
“Get out, I shout, I am the poet in residence!”
“Flee,” I say.
“Fleas,” he replies.
Then he starts to go on and on about the light in Greece.
“I’ve been there,” I say. “You forgot to tell them about the salads.”
He rolls over goes back to sleep. All of us who have slept here dropping like flies, back to where we came from.

Writers are supposed to be quiet, so why do I feel like shouting out of the window? Shouting out my poems? Flinging open the window, letting Paris in. Lots of Paris, all the streets, all the lobster walking poets. Letting them hear me,
“Get out of my way you language bastards! I’m trying to write.”
So I grab the metal bar, rip open the window. Spewing out my poem.
The Gargoyles start giggling. “Another poet,” they spit.
“Another poet giving a reading from an open window. Who? Who?” They chime.
“Go back to America! Go home Yankee boy writer. Zoot!”
High noon show down.
“This town ain’t big enough.”
Shouts, Gerard de Nerval
“I am the most horrible creature.”
“No, I am.”
On and on, until he jumps into a pot of boiling water. Dissolving like a snail in salt.
I notice the streetlights are on at noon. No wonder they call this place the City of Lights.

Here are the facts:
This place is a rite, a ritual. The secret to George, to the Tumbleweed Hotel, to Shakespeare and Company, is that he is empty. You must enter him. As Jonah did the whale. See the world through his eyes. Through his windows. He takes off his mask and there is the face you thought was yours. The faces of all whom have stayed here. Swallowed by the stories. Why worry about myths when you can dance? Why not take his hand? It is open. Just reach out. All he asks is to paint a self-portrait with words. Wants your memories. He houses them and they feed him. Can you imagine his hunger? Forget etiquette and precedence this is a fire. You are common that’s reassuring. We are fallen, let us enter the door together. The gates of the bazaar. Into the word department. Let’s order a full meal. Let us draw the human figure. Naked waiting for someone to offer us love. O mischievous bookseller, who holds your council? Whom have you not blessed? A sign? Of course and a caravan. Let us all pull up stakes and head off to Paris. Let us not judge. I erect a statue in your honor. I require myself to seek out your methods, your saintliness, and your glory.

Starry Night

2011-12-09T08:25:00.000-08:00

Thrilled to lead a workshop next Tuesday with with Francesca Rosenberg as part of the Museum of Modern Arts' "Meet Me at MoMA" project. We will use the artwork to inspire people living with dementia to perform and create poems. A dream come true for me is being able to use "Starry Nights," by Vincent Van Gogh.

Meet Me at MoMA

Slam School

2011-10-26T04:19:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I attended a lecture by Bronwen E. Low the author of Slam School at Columbia Teachers College. First I love her name! I was in the building for another lecture but I saw the signs for Slam School and it got me thinking about the first time I used Poetry Slam in the classroom and I dropped in and caught the end of the lecture. If you are a poet-in-the-school or a teacher looking to further your knowledge on teaching poetry this is a wonderful book.

The room was packed with over 40 young people studying teaching. They were passionate about the classroom and about using hip-hop, spoken word, and slam poetry to reach young people. Ms. Low gave an example of a student who used the coded language of hip-hop in writing a poem. As her talk ended and shifted to Q and A the energy in the room roiled. Hands shooting up, everyone brainstorming, everyone thrilled to either already be a student teacher or soon to be. I wish some of our politicians who talk about “good” and “bad” teachers could have been there.

My first time bringing Poetry Slam to the classroom was at Rancho Elementary School in Novato, California in 1990. A friend of mine was a teacher there. I had told him about this cool new poetry thing we were doing in San Francisco and he invited me to try it at his school. We pitted two 5th classes against each other and used poems the students had written. One thing that really sticks out about that day, is that the student judges immediately figured out how to game the system to throw the contest and get the poem they wanted to win to win. Surprise! It was a poem about a pony.

One of the teachers had a long name, with for me unexpected consonants. I kept mangling it. She ran out of the room. Only later did I find out that she thought I was saying her name wrong on purpose and had burst into tears.

TimeSlips ON-LINE!

2011-09-21T06:36:00.000-07:00

Many people are familiar with Anne Basting's amazing TimeSlips story telling project. She and her team have been hard at work for the last year or so building a user friendly web version of the project. Here is what Anne writes:

"The new storytelling software is playful and easy to use. I think you'll like it.

Here's how:

1) USE THE SITE!
-visit www.timeslips.org
-sign up (it's free!)
-Click Start a Story and play with the story software (you can invite friends to tell stories with you!)
-Send stories to your FB page, or email them to friends.

2) Send a personal email to friends you think might love this site.
3) Put a short blurb about the new site on your blog or into your newsletter.
4) Tell groups you're leading about the site as a resource.

I can't thank you enough. I feel like we have an amazing tool to give people - to let the joy of imagination brighten their lives."

Please give TimeSlips new tool a try!

National Poetry Slam back in the Day

2011-03-18T06:58:00.000-07:00

Photo credit Gary Glazner

This is a photo I took in 1990 outside City Lights Bookstore in San Francisco. The model was Kate Proper. The image of the boot on a stack of poetry books was used to promote the National Poetry Slam (NPS) in the early days. It served as the inspiration for a series of NPS trophies. Cities riffed on the image with Austin doing a cowboy boot. Ann Arbor doing a work boot. In Stockholm at the Poetry Olympics in 1998 they did a sandal with sock. It was used on flyers and tee-shirts and was published by both SF Weekly and the Bay Guardian the week the Poetry Slam launched in San Francisco.

The Sword Swallower's Assistant

2011-01-01T07:55:00.000-08:00

The Sword Swallower's Assistant is dedicated to Heather Holiday. Click this link to hear an Indiefeed pod cast performance of the poem.

The Sword Swallower's Assistant.

When
I wink-
you ready,
steady, pull.
Don’t go side to side.

Don’t think of the blade as a tongue
or a flower. Don’t think of thrusting,
or think of me as a truffle. You’re not rooting in a forest.

You’re not running from bulls. You’re not getting struck by lightning.
Don’t think of labyrinths, or twisting paths to heaven. Look me in the eye.

You’re no shaman preist. Don’t cry out or make bird sounds. Don’t dream
of waking on coals or taking it to the hilt. Don’t, don’t, don’t go side to side.

Blade into mouth, epiglottis flipped open, alignment, placement-
go- blade into glottal chamber, behind the prominentia laryngea,

the voice box, past the pharynx, through the upper esophageal sphincter,
down the esophagus, between lungs, nudge aside the heart, past the liver,

relax the lower esophageal sphincter, blade kisses the bottom of the stomach.
This is no time to get creative. Don’t think of the sword as your manhood.

Ladies and Gentleman,
see me bang the sword?
Bang it on the ground, soild, it does not bend!
It’s perfect inside me, ant eater, high heels, fire breath, silk panties.

Step right up!
See the freaks!
Want to be the sword?
When you pull it out,
spit clings to the blade.
Tug on it,
to get it loose
feel my insides
grip the steel.

Another look at LONGFELLOW

2010-12-18T20:47:00.000-08:00

Great article in the New York Times on Longfellow

Jill Lepore writes, “Listen, my children, and you shall hear/ Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere.” Before Longfellow published those lines, Revere was never known for his ride, and Longfellow got almost every detail of what happened in 1775 wrong. But Longfellow didn’t care: he was writing as much about the coming war as about the one that had come before. “Paul Revere’s Ride” is less a poem about the Revolutionary War than about the impending Civil War — and about the conflict over slavery that caused it. That meaning, though, has been almost entirely forgotten."

Click here to read the article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/19/opinion/19Lepore.html?hp

One of the things I found interesting in the article was the fact that Longfellow used his money to help slaves. Here is an account from the Harvard Library website,
"Public Poet, Private Man, Longfellow at 200,"

"These two pages cover the years 1855 (when Song of Hiawatha appeared) to 1856. The ex-slave Josiah Henson, widely known as the model for Harriett Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom, is mentioned as the recipient of donations in Longfellow's account books until the mid-1870s. Longfellow met Henson in the summer of 1846, when the preacher called at Craigie House to get the poet to sponsor his school, which Longfellow apparently did, and over a longer period of time (in March 1875, for example, "Father Henson" received $20.00 out of a total of $122.00 in donations for that month)."

Click here to see a facsimile of Longfellow's ledger:
http://hcl.harvard.edu/libraries/houghton/exhibits/longfellow/public_poet/41.html

Tübingen after German poet Hölderlin

2010-09-21T08:45:00.000-07:00

Had a wonderful time in Tübingen and the kick off of the German tour
to present the findings of the Alzpoetry pilot project sponsored by the U.S. Embassy
in Berlin. Got to row on the Neckar river and learn about Tübingen's love
of the poet Hölderlin. Tübingen is where Alois Alzheimer's presented his first paper on the disease that would care his name.

Tübingen- After Hölderlin

He stares into the distance,
face in the pear sweet sun.
Dips his head at the exact angle of want.
Holding a bouquet of wild orange roses,
anxious petals mirror his face flush with seeking.
His swan neck tilts into the hope of her.
The train pulls in and shadows our view.
Through the cold windows we see him
stalk the clattering track.
There she is- drunk with kisses.

Howl- The Film

2010-07-15T12:26:00.000-07:00

Read about the Howl film here

New York Public Library Performance- Celebrating 20 Years of ADA

2010-06-24T09:46:00.000-07:00

Celebrating 20 Years of ADA.

Press Release

For Immediate Release

The New York Public Library Celebrates the 20th Anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act with ADA Day on July 7th

New York, NY – In commemoration of the signing of the twentieth anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act, The New York Public Library with host ADA Day on Wednesday, July 7 in the South Court Auditorium of the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building located at Fifth Avenue at 42nd Street. Throughout the afternoon there will be a series of free programs, screenings, and performances related to and about the disabled. All programs will have Real-time (CART) captioning, and assistive listening devices will be available. ASL interpreters will also be provided.

The schedule for the day will be as follows:
3:00-5:00 p.m. The ADA: On the Personal Level
Matthew Sapolin, Commissioner of the Mayor's Office for People with Disabilities, will kick off the celebration by reflecting on the changes that the ADA has brought about.
Ruth O'Brien, Professor, author and editor, will moderate a panel on the topic of the ADA and the difference it has made in the panelist's lives. Panelists: Leonard Kriegel, author of Flying Solo: Reimagining Manhood, Courage, and Loss; Stephen Kuusisto, author of Planet of the Blind; and Achim Nowak, author of Power Speaking: The Art of the Exceptional Public Speaker.
Panelists are all contributors to the book Voices from the Edge: Narratives about the Americans with Disabilities Act , edited By Ruth O’Brien.

6:00-8:00 p.m.: Evening Arts Panel: Film, Poetry, Dance, and Discussion.
Roger Ross Williams, director of Academy Award-winning film Music by Prudence , about a Zimbabwean band composed of people with disabilities. Film will be screened.
Gary Glazner, founder of the Alzheimer's Poetry Project will perform some short pieces.
Heidi Latsky, founder and choreographer of The GIMP Project. There will be a short performance, Two Men Walking (performed by Lawrence Carter-Long and Jeffrey Freeze, music by Sxip Shirey.)

After the screening/performances, Roger Ross Williams, Gary Glazner, Heidi Latsky, Lawrence Carter-Long and Jeffrey Freeze will assemble on stage for audience questions.

There will also be a series of free programs regarding disabilities throughout July held at the Mid-Manhattan Library located at 455 Fifth Avenue.

For more information about these programs you can visit The Library’s website at www.nypl.org.

Contact: Jonathan Pace| 212.592.7710 | Jonathan_Pace@nypl.org

PoetryCruise.com

2010-05-25T06:41:00.000-07:00

FINALLY- Someone is offering poetry cruises! Click here to get the full scoop on Derrick Brown's Poetry Cruise.

Here's the pitch-
ROMANCE AHOY! BRING SOMEONE SPECIAL TO A ONE OF A KIND EXPERIENCE UPON THE PACIFIC WITH ONE OF AMERICAS MOST BELOVED AUTHORS.

Salty Dog Anyone?!

Verbobala designs Bill Board in San Francisco

2010-05-15T07:01:00.000-07:00

This email just in from Logan Phillips-

Family, compañeros, todos,

great news. Galeria de la Raza has just put up the billboard that we designed as a commission for them in response to Arizona's SB1070, recently signed into law by Gov. Brewer. For me, everything that you need to know about 1070 is held in this 21 year-old woman's eyes as she was arrested for chaining herself to the state capitol as an act of civil disobedience. Nine were arrested in all.

More details, including the video, here:

http://www.verbobala.com/2010/05/billboard/

It was an honor to be asked to do this, and a privilege to be able to honor the "Capitol 9" in this way.

Next up, there is a chance that we will be playing at the Rialto Theater in Tucson next weekend at an anti-1070 event. The hip-hop group Cypress Hill recently canceled their concert as part of the Arizona boycott, and in response we're hoping to host a fundraiser for the humanitarian aide and legal advice group Derechos Humanos AZ, organizer of some of the largest recent marches in Tucson. More info TBA, check our website and the Verbobala facebook page at

http://www.facebook.com/verbobala

It's a heady time, and I'm glad to be able to be in Arizona right now to serve my community. In spite of its long history, I refuse to believe racism has any place in my state.

Arriba y pa'lante,

logan

Ai RIP

2010-03-27T20:05:00.000-07:00

Salomé

by Ai
I scissor the stem of the red carnation
and set it in a bowl of water.
It floats the way your head would,
if I cut it off.
But what if I tore you apart
for those afternoons
when I was fifteen
and so like a bird of paradise
slaughtered for its feathers.
Even my name suggested wings,
wicker cages, flight.
Come, sit on my lap, you said.
I felt as if I had flown there;
I was weightless.
You were forty and married.
That she was my mother never mattered.
She was a door that opened onto me.
The three of us blended into a kind of somnolence
and musk, the musk of Sundays. Sweat and sweetness.
That dried plum and licorice taste
always back of my tongue
and your tongue against my teeth,
then touching mine. How many times?—
I counted, but could never remember.
And when I thought we’d go on forever,
that nothing could stop us
as we fell endlessly from consciousness,
orders came: War in the north.
Your sword, the gold epaulets,
the uniform so brightly colored,
so unlike war, I thought.
And your horse; how you rode out the gate.
No, how that horse danced beneath you
toward the sound of cannon fire.
I could hear it, so many leagues away.
I could see you fall, your face scarlet,
the horse dancing on without you.
And at the same moment,
Mother sighed and turned clumsily in the hammock,
the Madeira in the thin-stemmed glass
spilled into the grass,
and I felt myself hardening to a brandy-colored wood,
my skin, a thousand strings drawn so taut
that when I walked to the house
I could hear music
tumbling like a waterfall of China silk
behind me.
I took your letter from my bodice.
Salome, I heard your voice,
little bird, fly. But I did not.
I untied the lilac ribbon at my breasts
and lay down on your bed.
After a while, I heard Mother's footsteps,
watched her walk to the window.
I closed my eyes
and when I opened them
the shadow of a sword passed through my throat
and Mother, dressed like a grenadier,
bent and kissed me on the lips.

Photo Credit- Poetry Center

Here are links to obits for Ai:
Guardian books

New York Times

L.A. Times

Personal account in the Oklahoma State University paper

Many personal remembrances on the Best American Poetry site, including this:

I tried to imitate her every day of my life. She was the way to write, the way I wanted to write. Ai, I miss u.

Sapphire
Brooklyn, NY

Karen Finneyfrock New Book and Tour

2010-03-11T21:38:00.000-08:00

Karen Finneyfrock's hot new book Ceremony for the Choking Ghost is getting great reviews, check out what The Stranger has to say. What makes the review even sweeter is over the years, The Stranger has snarked everything Poetry Slam, including an almost black out on coverage when the Nationals took place in Seattle.

Here is the reviewer Paul Constant, "In Reality Hunger, David Shields claims that he has grown frustrated with novels because "you have to read seven hundred pages to get the handful of insights that were the reason the book was written." Finneyfrock's poems, then, are Shields's perfect novels: a shelf full of long, elaborate, heartfelt books that have been whittled down to their bare, sharp skeletons."

Buy the book on the WriteBloody Store
You can catch up with Finneyfrock on her extensive tour:

March 9, Seattle Poetry Slam

March 12, Elliott Bay Book Company, Seattle, WA

March 18, SEATTLE BOOK RELEASE PARTY, Richard Hugo House

March 19, Youth Speaks Seattle Finals, The Moore Theatre, Seattle, WA

March 22, Poetry Night, Bellingham, WA

March 31, Berzerkeley Poetry Slam, CA

April 1, Tourettes Without Regrets, Oakland, CA

April 6, Wordplay, Chicago, IL

April 7, TBA

April 9, Workshop with Vox Ferus, Chicago, IL

April 11, The Green Mill, Chicago, IL

April 14, Cantab Lounge, Boston, MA

April 15, Providence Poetry Slam, RI

April 17, Kitchen Sessions, Mike McGee’s House, USA

April 19, Louder Arts at Bar 13, NYC

April 20, Urbana, Bowery Poetry Club, NYC

April 22, Loser Slam, New Jersey

April 23, Nuyorican Poets Cafe, NYC

April 24, Jack McCarthy Invitational Slam, Marysville, WA

April 25, Seattle’s Grand Slam at Town Hall, Seattle, WA

May 8, SPRUNG with Tara Hardy, Elaina Ellis, more info TBA

May 11, The Round at the Fremont Abbey with Write Bloody author Josh Boyd

May 20, SAM Word at Seattle Art Museum

June 8, 826 Seattle “Write Like I Do” Class for Adults

Poetry Projection: A White Wing Brushing the Building

2010-02-06T13:51:00.000-08:00

Please help fund the projection of New York's poems onto buildings around town using a high-powered 10,000-lumen digital projector. By imagining the sides of buildings as blank pages for the dramatic presentation of the poet's work we engage our community in a creative and innovative act of reading, we reinforce the value of those poems and provide a dramatic backdrop for their words.

Check out the project at KickStarter

We kick off the Poetry Projection: A White Wing Brushing the Building with the poems of the West African community in the Bronx, including the work of our Griot-in-Residence, Papa Susso!

The technology for the projections will be provided by media partner, Local Projects, whose many credits include being lead exhibition designers for The National September 11th Memorial and Museum at the World Trade Center.

The vehicle that transports the projector is the Pizza-Poetry Mobile sponsored by Two Boots Pizza. This unique art delivery concept was created in partnership with City Lore and Bowery Poetry Club.

Imagine a colorful food truck festooned with poems and outfitted on top with a state-of-the-art digital projector, parked on the corner of a high traffic street corner, blasting laser poems on near-by buildings, the Pizza Person reciting poems, and distributing delicious “Poetry Pie,” pizza slices.

Project Directors, Gary Glazner, Bob Holman, and Steve Zeitlin will work with 12 ethnic poetry groups, including poetry clubs and small presses from the Persian, West African, Yemeni, South Asian, Egyptian, Russian, Basque, Sicilian, Russian, Yiddish, Filipino, and Mexican poetry communities, among others. We will work with community groups to select poems for the projections. Each project event will include a performance of the poems.

The project title comes from Martin Espada's lines: “God must be an owl, electricity coursing through the hollow bones, a white wing brushing the building.”

Help celebrate the poetry of New York -- the poetry of the World!

Gabrielle Bouliane- RIP

2010-01-30T10:53:00.000-08:00

Below is a post from Mongo of IndieFeed with the sad news about sweet, talented and dedicated poet Gabrielle Bouliane. I met her in the mid 90s through her work with Poetry Slam Inc. Missing her madly. Below is a video of her performing at the Austin Poetry Slam.
xox
Gary

IndieFeed Family...

As many of you doubtless already know, Gabrielle Bouliane passed away last night. She was surrounded by friends and family, and it sounds like she slipped away quite peacefully.

For the 35 of you who left messages for her, to be included in our special show, the sad news is that she passed away before we were able to produce the show, and get it to her. She just left us far too quickly, there at the end.

But as I discussed with Cristin this morning, healing and mourning are jobs for the living. So maybe, in that way, these messages were actually for us all along. And being able to share this great flash of hope after she is gone makes the timing quite perfect.

The show was recorded on Thursday, and releases on Monday. But it's available now, if you'd like to hear it:

indiefeed_gabriellebouliane_lifesentence.mp3

Feel free to share this link widely, forward this message to your mailing lists, e-mail the info to friends, and post it to your journals and websites. Let's all sing and remember Gabrielle, and Bunny Up for her one more time.

With a heavy heart, but one buoyed by the love of this family...

--Mongo

P.S.. I posted this link to my LiveJournal this morning, and Cristin has also been sending it out this morning. In just over two hours, 65 people had downloaded the audio. Gabrielle continues to inspire!!!!

The True Story of Emily D

2009-12-12T05:53:00.000-08:00

Check out this amazing animation by Flash Rosenberg. I was blown away by the research Lyn Pentecost of the Lower East Side Girls club did into Dickinson's life. Turns out most of what we think of the lonely, recluse, dressed in white drifting upstairs like a ghost, is BS. Ready to have as Emily says, "If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry." This video will loosen your skull cap or double your money back! I like this new Emily- she's gutsy- like her poems.

It preimered at the big Emily Dickinson Birthday Bash at The Bowery Poetry Club on Dec. 10th, This piece was commissioned by the Lower Eastside Girls Club as part of the National Endowment for the Arts initiative, 'The Big Read.'

Emily Dickinson – Her True Self from Flash Rosenberg on Vimeo.

An impressionistic animation about Emily's life and poetry, energetically revealing the truth about her spirit. It's a myth that Emily was stuck in her little room. She was aware of the world, much loved, prolific and had the courage to follow her own imagination.
11:30 minutes
drawing, script and direction: Flash Rosenberg
video editor: Sarah Lohman
original music: Ken Rosenberg
voices: Renee Laster, Flash Rosenberg
produced by: The Lower Eastside Girls Club, New York City

Beth Lisick Stars in "Everything Strange and New."

2009-12-05T12:12:00.000-08:00

I met Beth Lisick in the mid 1990's when she was burning up the poetry scene in San Francisco. She has gone on to write many books including, "Helping Me Help Myself: One Skeptic, Ten Self-Help Gurus, and a Year on the Brink of the Comfort Zone," published by William Morrow. Adding to her many credits she is now staring in a new indie film "Everything Strange and New." Here is a little from the San Francisco chronicle review-

"Director Frazer Bradshaw has worked as a cinematographer, which you might guess from seeing his new feature, "Everything Strange and New." This drama about the existential woes of a blue-collar worker is told in a strikingly visual way.

Bradshaw is drawn to long takes and a motionless camera to tell the story of Wayne (Jerry McDonald), an Oakland construction worker coping with a rocky marriage and a general sense of frustration. Wayne informs us (he's also the narrator) that he had a satisfying sexual relationship with his wife (Beth Lisick) early in their relationship, but now, with two kids to support and finances tight, his home life isn't so rosy" read the rest of the review here SF Gate

I felt lucky to be in San Francisco to see the opening. The acting in the film is spot-on. Bradshaw has a sharp eye and has written a compelling screen play. The title comes from a line in "The Pied Piper Of Hamelin," by Robert Browning, which is recited in the film in a pivotal scene-

"It's dull in our town since my playmates left!
I can't forget that I'm bereft
Of all the pleasant sights they see,
Which the Piper also promised me:
For he led us, he said, to a joyous land,
Joining the town and just at hand,
Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew,
And flowers put forth a fairer hue,
And everything was strange and new;
The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here,
And their dogs outran our fallow deer,
And honey-bees had lost their stings,
And horses were born with eagles' wings:
And just as I became assured
My lame foot would be speedily cured,
The music stopped and I stood still,
And found myself outside the Hill,
Left alone against my will,
To go now limping as before,
And never hear of that country more!

Michael O'Keefe's Book Party for "Swimming From Under My Father"

2009-10-25T09:00:00.000-07:00

Michael O'Keefe's Book Party for "Swimming From Under My Father"
At the Bowery Poetry Club, 308 Bowery, New York City, Sunday Oct. 25th, 2009, 4pm EST.

With special guest readers: Mary-Louise Parker, Michael Lally, Portia, and Saul Rubinek .

Watch it live on the WEB!

http://www.rfg3travel.com/bowerylive103008.html

Thrilled "Weeds" star Mary-Louise Parker will be at the BPC today to support her friend Michael O'Keefe and his first book of poetry!

And course Lally is one of my favorite poets!

More on Swimming From Under My Father here

Here are the closing lines from O'Keefe's poem, "Campaign Plans,"

Ol’ Roscoe smiled and returned to his task,
which was to mop the cheap linoleum floor
sending waves of ammonia and loss to the heavens.

It looks to be a great event. Hope you can make it down or get a chance to catch it live on the web.

Performance at the Literture Festival in Berlin

2009-09-26T11:32:00.001-07:00

Poetry in Motion Redeux

2009-08-16T09:51:00.000-07:00

Danny Heitman's New York Times article from 8/16/09 ruminates on Marianne Moore's flirtation with the Auto Industry.

Here are a few examples we think poets might drive:

Billy Collins- 1941 red and white, Mitsubishi Lanyard, with Nine Horse engine.

Coleman Barks- 1937- Ford Whirler

Pablo Neruda- 1904- VEB Sachsenring Automobilwerke Trabant- Is there anything sadder in the world than a Trabant standing in the rain?

Marianne Moore- 1887- horse drawn Ford Fiddle, I too dislike it...

Langston Hughes- 1902- Deferrer, with exploding ejection seat

Shatner does Palin

2009-07-29T05:24:00.000-07:00

Happy Firecracker Day!

2009-07-04T04:28:00.000-07:00

Please check out this video I made with Mark Crutch to explain my absence from a Bowery Poetry Club staff meeting. I hope you enjoy it! Best, Gary

Jon Stewart on the Poetry Slam/ Poetry Jam Dust Up!

2009-06-04T05:41:00.000-07:00

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

M - Th 11p / 10c

Old Man Stewart Shakes His Fist at White House Poetry Jams

thedailyshow.com

Daily Show
Full Episodes

Political Humor

Economic Crisis

Stewart's best line, "The problem with Poetry Jams or Poetry Slams is the poetry part."

Hollywood Does Poetry

2009-05-09T20:02:00.000-07:00

Sunday, May 10th
at the Bowery Poetry Club- 7pm

Second Annual Bowery Arts & Science Benefit
for the non-profit wing of the Bowery Poetry Club

6pm Cocktails with the Stars! Schmooze w/ the Poets!
7pm Main Event Hollywood Does Poetry!

Performers include:
Patricia Clarkson
Claire Danes
Michael Lally
Michael O'Keefe
Rene Ricard
Sapphire
Sarah Vowell
Amber Tamblyn
Kristi Zea
and Youth Poets from Urban Word NYC

Here are the opening lines from Amber Tamblyn's "Moth,"
you can read the whole poem here

I consider myself flexible in awkward positions.
Not a home wrecker,
but I do knock.
And you and I are pals.
The kind that
open up to each other but keep mouths
at a safe distance.

Darwin Inspired by his Grandfather's Poetry

2009-04-23T07:10:00.000-07:00

This recent New York Times article on Charles Darwin's great-great-Granddaughter British poet Ruth Padel's new book of poetry "Darwin: A Life in Poems" got me thinking about Darwin's other poet relative, his Grandfather Erasmus Darwin.

Here is a quote from an article in "The Guardian."

Darwin's long poem "The Botanic Garden" (1789) is one of the most extraordinary - some would say bizarre - works in English literature. Arching between two eras, it was a final exuberant flowering of Enlightenment experiment and optimism but also a glittering treasure trove of images and ideas for the coming Romantic generation, plundered by Shelley, Coleridge, Wordsworth. Four thousand lines of rhyming couplets humming above thickets of footnotes, with engravings by Blake, Fuseli and others, it consisted of two parts, "The Economy of Vegetation", and "The Loves of the Plants".

With wit and sly humour it mixed poetry, science and startling radical notions: a sheaf of "Additional Notes" explored everything from meteors to Wedgwood's Portland vase, from clouds and coal to shell-fish and steam-engines. Most disturbing of all to contemporaries was the poem's first hint of a new theory of biological evolution - 50 years before his grandson Charles published Origin of Species.
Portrait of Erasmus Darwin by Joseph Wright- c 1792-3 (or after)

click here for the full article

For me the Times missed a crucial element by not including the full story of the Darwin family's poetry connection. Here are a few lines from Economy of Vegetation:

"LET THERE BE LIGHT!"
Astonish'd Chaos heard the potent word: -
Through all his realms the kindly Ether runs,
And the mass starts into a million suns;
Earths round each sun with quick explosions burst,

And second planets issue from the first;
Bend, as they journey with projectile force,
In bright ellipses bend their reluctant course;
Orbs wheel in orbs, round centres centres roll,
And form, self-balanced, one revolving Whole.

Happy Poetry Month

2009-04-06T05:34:00.000-07:00

Colbert! Penn! Pinsky! in the Meta-free-phor-all--shall-i-nail-thee-to-a-summer-s-day-

This is a great clip from April 2007.
Penn was a drinking buddy of Bukowski.
The opening clips shows Penn and Colbert as butterflies!
In the great evolution of the poetry slam this is akin
to walking upright! Why don't more Slams take this format?
Challenge to anyone organizing a performance poetry contest!

Photography by LaVerne Harrell Clark

2009-03-03T20:13:00.000-08:00

The University of Arizona Poetry Center's next exhibition will feature photographs of poets and writers taken by the late LaVerne Harrell Clark, the Center's first director.

Here is a wonderful photograph Harrell Clark took of Joy Harjo in 1975. This was shortly after Harjo's first book "the last song," came out from: Puerto Del Sol Press, located in Las Cruces, New Mexico, was released. The exhibition is being held in honor of Clark, who died Feb. 24, 2008. Here is a story on the exhibit from UA News.

You may view more of Harrell Clark's work at Artistic Network including great photos of Creeley and Borges.

Buson Poem and Grave Stone

2009-02-13T20:47:00.000-08:00

The spring sea rising
And falling, rising
And falling all day.
The spring sea rising
And falling, rising
And falling all day.
The spring sea rising
And falling, rising
And falling all day.
The spring sea rising
And falling, rising
And falling all day.
The spring sea rising
And falling, rising
And falling all day.
The spring sea rising
And falling, rising
And falling all day.
The spring sea rising
And falling, rising
And falling all day.

Indie Feed does Howl

2009-02-06T22:42:00.000-08:00

Mongo from Indie Feed writes:

Dear IndieFeed Poetry Family...

It isn't frequently that I feel compelled to drop a note to every poet that has been on IndieFeed over the past few years. But today is such a day.

I just wanted to thank each and every one of you for being a part of our channel since we debuted, three years ago this week. During the past month we've had a huge number of anniversaries for us, and they all illustrate how successful the show has become:

* 3 years of podcasting
* 2 million + total downloads
* Our first month ever (January, 2009) surpassing 100,000 downloads
* 200+ poets featured

And to me, most importantly:

* 500 shows!!!!

If you haven't checked in with the show lately, this would be a good time to do so. This morning we released, through special arrangement with the estate of Allen Ginsberg, his epic poem "Howl (for Carl Solomon)". By far the longest, and arguably, the most historically important piece ever to appear on the channel.

IndieFeed

I've enclosed a press release that we've been distributing in advance of the show's airing today. If you have a blog, or any other place that might find this interesting, please feel free to use it or forward it widely. The great thing about podcasting is that once a piece is up, it remains available for download in perpetuity.

But the real reason for this e-mail is just to thank each and every one of you for being a part of what we do. I wish I could reach out and give every one of you a hug, not only for being on the show, but for keeping the flame of performance poetry alive each and every day, for all of us, and for generations yet to come.

You all mean the world to me. Keep doing what you do...

Much love,

--Mongo
Founder and Host
The IndieFeed Performance Poetry Channel
http://performancepoetry.indiefeed.com

PS You can catch some of my poems on IndieFeed as well!

THE POEM

2009-01-20T19:04:00.000-08:00

Praise song for the day.

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.

A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."

We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road."

We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.

Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self."

Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.

Thanks to the New York Times and CQ Transcriptions for the text to Elizabeth Alexander's Inaugural Poem.

Let the Whining Begin! (Or in the case of Packer a Preemptive Strike)

Erica Wagner at Times on Line

The Opinionater

The New Yorker's George Packer on "Presidential Poetry,"

Packer's "Ars Poetica Redux,"

The Weekly Rader

The inaugural poet followed, a sort of filler, with a long windup, a few good phrases in the middle ("someone is trying to make music somewhere ... a teacher says, 'Take out your pencils. Begin'"), and then it trailed off into some misty thoughts about love. And then a big horn blast of a benediction. -Garrison Keillor

...help us work for that day when black will not be asked to give back, when brown can stick around, when yellow will be mellow, when the red man can get ahead, man, and when white will embrace what is right." -The Rev. Joseph E. Lowery

Poe Stamp Big Bang!

2009-01-15T21:07:00.001-08:00

From the Post Office Website: In 2009, the U.S. Postal Service commemorates the 200th anniversary of the birth of Edgar Allan Poe, one of America’s most extraordinary poets and fiction writers. For more than a century and a half, Poe and his works have been praised by admirers around the world, including English poet laureate Alfred, Lord Tennyson, who dubbed Poe “the literary glory of America.” British author Sir Arthur Conan Doyle called him “the supreme original short story writer of all time.”

The stamp portrait of Edgar Allan Poe is by award-winning artist Michael J. Deas, whose research over the years has made him well acquainted with Poe’s appearance. In 1989, Deas published The Portraits and Daguerreotypes of Edgar Allan Poe, a comprehensive collection of images featuring authentic likenesses as well as derivative portraits.

Down at the bottom of this article on the stamp is the news that Poe may have "pioneered the idea of the Big Bang theory for the birth of the universe in his non-fiction work, "Eureka, A Prose Poem." The piece was adapted from a lecture Poe had given.

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the
floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!

Carol Adair Rest in Peace

2009-01-14T19:30:00.000-08:00

Poet Laureate Kay Ryan's partner Carol Adair to whom she was married twice - once at San Francisco City Hall in 2004, the second time at the Marin Civic Center in 2008, on the same day Ryan learned she had been named U.S. poet laureate, died of cancer on January 3rd, 2009. They were together for 30 years. From her San Francisco Gate obituary, "She met her life partner, Kay Ryan, in 1977 while both were working in the academics department at San Quentin. Carol was a teacher by nature. Teaching was her consuming art and genius. She understood how to bring out the best in her students and in all who knew her. She loved learning as much as teaching and was constantly on the hunt for new information and deeper understanding."

The Pieces That Fall To Earth
by Kay Ryan

One could
almost wish
they wouldn't;
they are so
far apart,
so random.
One cannot
wait, cannot
abandon waiting.
The three or
four occasions
of their landing
never fade.
Should there
be more, there
will never be
enough to make
a pattern
that can equal
the commanding
way they matter.

Blagojevich the Poet

2009-01-13T22:13:00.000-08:00

Blagojevich Poetry Jams are breaking out all over.
Even clowns are writing poems inspired by the Govs quoting of poems. Clown Cafe

And yes! Catholics are jamming on the Blago-band-wagon!

After Blagojevich ended a press conference by citing
the poem "Ulysses" by Lord Tennyson Alfred,
poets started coming out of the woodwork.
And by woodwork I mean the badger that lives on his head.
Tennyson could have used a hair helmet like that.

We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Don't forget Timothy McVeigh choose
William Henley's "Invictus,"
to be read as his last words:

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance,
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishment the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Billionaire sets Poetry Test in Lonely Heart Ad

2008-12-31T16:56:00.000-08:00

This just in from Chongqing Evening News/ China Daily:

A man claiming to be a billionaire posted a lonely heart ad in local media recently with a long love poem as the preliminary test for prospective candidates.

According to the advertisements in Chongqing municipality, the 41-year-old business owner of a famous local enterprise is looking for a woman aged between 23 and 30 with fluent English, a pretty face and nice disposition.

And she must at least be able to understand the poetry.

A man surnamed Yang, who claims to be the businessman's cousin, said the ads cost some 300,000 yuan ($43,800) and that he would select 10 candidates to meet the boss face to face.

Some 100 candidates had applied so far, Yang said.

The ad caused a stir online among netizens, who considered it a gimmick and claimed the candidates were looking for money not love.

Here is a translation of the poem:

Night Thoughts

I cannot sleep. The long, long
Night is full of bitterness.
I sit alone in my room,
Beside a smoky lamp.
I rub my heavy eyelids
And idly turn the pages
Of my book. Again and again
I trim my brush and stir the ink.
Then I place an ad on the computer net.
The hours go by. The moon comes
In the open window, pale
And bright like new money.
Like my lots and lots of money.
Money I am willing to share
if you love poetry,
at last I fall asleep and
I dream you are typing
Over the beautiful hills.
And now your photo gets mine.
And now please text me asap.
;-)

Twas the Night Before Christmas

2008-12-24T16:18:00.000-08:00

We went to the 97th annual reading of "Twas the Night Before Christmas," at Trinity Church up in Washington Heights. Omar Minaya, New York Mets General Manager, led the holiday tradition, which ends with a glow stick procession down to Clement Moore's grave in Trinity Church Cemetery. Dozens of kids gathered close to Omar and beat him the punch on most of the rhymes, to which he joked, "The Mets are easy to manage compared to this." The highlight was the Harlem Choir's rendition of "Go Tell it on the Mountain," with their sharp gesticulation and perfect pitch.

"Twas the Night Before Christmas" gives us most of the images we associate with Santa Claus, the belly, the pipe, the rain deer, the sleigh. It is a powerful example of poetry shaping culture.

Moore was instrumental in saving New York's Greenwich Village from the grid. He wrote a 60-page pamphlet anonymously that argued against extending the orthogonal grid of streets into the village. His arguments were persuasive and the grid stopped at 6th Avenue and at 14th Street. He was a professor of classics at the General Theological Seminary in New York and wrote a most famous scholarly work one the lexicon of the Hebrew language.

Moore of course is best know for the poem "Twas the Night Before Christmas," here is link to a site that has compelling evidence that Moore may not have been the author. Henry Livingston the facts are on your side! Moore's father swore in George Washington and was a bigwig in the church, as was Moore. Some of Livingston's relatives were also church high-ups and may have backed off on pushing for claiming ownership.

Especially interesting is the "smoking gun" section.

Here's another site that highlights lit sleuth
Professor Don Foster's work on the case.

Last here is link to the New York Times photographer Bill Cunningham's piece on the culmination of the Santa image/myth.

Japanese Businessman Poetry Contest

2008-11-30T06:06:00.000-08:00

Here is a link to an article in the Guardian about an annual Senryu contest.

This is a the winning entry submitted by a child to Toto's recent annual senryu contest:

Toilet

This is my room

My dad says

Toto is best known for its Washlet bidet toilets, and "Happy Buttocks," ad . This combination of poetry contest and business could really catch on. For me I am down for happier, cleaner, buttocks! To refresh yourself, to restore yourself, to pamper yourself.
Warm water, warm seat, warm air, pretty good way to start your day...
Not since Lew Welch's immortal line

RAID KILLS BUGS DEAD

Has there been such a strong poetry/business link. Is this the brave new world we have been hearing so much about?

Radnoti Film Fundraiser

2008-09-27T19:52:00.000-07:00

NEITHER MEMORY NOR MAGIC- A documentary about Miklos Radnoti- Directed and Produced by Hugo Perez- Narrated by Patricia Clarkson. Sneak Preview- Benefit for Bowery Arts and Science the non-profit wing of the Bowery Poetry Club, - 9/28 8pm at the Bowery Poetry Club, 308 Bowery, New York. $10-25 sliding scale

When the Hungarian poet Miklos Radnoti was executed and buried in a mass grave in 1944 after a two-month death march, he did not know whether his poems would survive. Eighteen months later, when his body was exhumed, a notebook was found in his coat pocket that contained his final poems. Neither Memory Nor Magic tells the story of a man who believed in the life of his poems even when he knew that he himself would not survive.

Director Hugo Perez will present to discuss the project after the screening.

Here is the opening section of
Radnoti's poem "Forced March,"
translated by Emery George.

The man who, having collapsed, rises, takes steps, is insane;
he’ll move an ankle, a knee, an arrant mass of pain,
and take to the road again as if wings were to lift him high;
in vain the ditch will call him: he simply dare not stay;
and should you ask, why not?; perhaps he’ll turn and answer;
his wife is waiting back home, and a death, one beautiful, wiser

and the poems ends:

Don’t go pass me, my friend—tonight the moon is so round!
shout! and I’ll come around!

M30A Films

Miklós_Radnóti Wikipedia

Summer Institute of Social Justice and Applied Poetics

2008-08-13T06:48:00.000-07:00

Here is the great group of young poets who are taking my applied poetics class at the Bowery Poetry Club. I brought them to the 80th Street Residence last Thursday, and they performed poetry for people living with Alzheimer's disease. You can read more about the session on Lit Kicks. I love that Levi calls it a poetry slam. One of the highlights was Bonniebel reading her original poem "Passion." We had everyone chanting the passion in call and response. She is on the far left in the photo. Below is her poem and here is a link to her great blog where you can see her design work and view a video of her performing the poem at the Nuyorican. Also attending the reading was Petra who organized the youth poetry slam nationals in Germany last year.

PASSION
when it’s in your skin
deep in your bones
bursting from your soul
it’s passion
no need for motivation, pep talks or inspiration
no need to ask why, but why not
it’s passion
running, flying, weightless with everywhere to go
higher, freer inhale complete satisfaction
filling your lungs with mounds of joy
until your body spins with delight
it’s passion
you smile
you smile
you smile
and you want to be in this moment forever
you feel you move you feel you move
you release a part of yourself for everyone to see
a radiant glow of purity beams from every part of your dancing spirit
it’s passion
you don’t stop, you won’t stop, you go
you go and pass the reds, the no’s, the can’ts
you pass the reds, the no’s, the can’ts
you don’t dream because you live your dream
you don’t live in what ifs or buts, because you do
you do what makes you fly
makes you run
makes you jump
without ever getting tired
it’s passion
passion feeds action
i said, passion feeds action

New Museum's Block Party

2008-07-27T03:56:00.001-07:00

The Bowery Poetry Club took part in the New Museum’s “Block Party,” on Saturday, July 19th at Sara Roosevelt Park. The audience was mostly young families and we helped the kids become, “Bowery Poets,” by writing and performing poems with them. We would have each kid write an acrostic poem starting by writing their name with letters going down the page like this

A
L
I

Then each letter would start a description of the kid, or a favorite food, or animal or just a fun word. The first poem was from a one and a half year old named ALI and his mom helped a bit. It came out like this:

All consuming
Lovable
I did it!

Ali shouted out the last line. We would then perform the poem with the family chanting each line and having the family chant back in a call and response. We worked with about 40 families and it was a lot of fun. My favorite poem was not and acrostic but an sort of oral history as poem, by a woman who said she was not a poet and could never write a poem. As she started to talk and describe her life in the neighborhood, I asked her to slow down so I could write down what she was saying. Here is Mrs. Lee’s poem:

If I’m hungry
I eat.
I go to Katz’s.
I get pastrami.
I get a knish.
For 35 years I’ve lived here.
You can say 40 years, since 1967.
My landlord, 3rd landlord, he’s nice, he fixes it up for everybody.
Sion that’s his name.
There’s 5 of us.
I’m the history of Ludlow street.

Borders Open- Door Poetry

2008-07-21T13:59:00.000-07:00

Here is a link to Episode Four of this fun series created by Anthony Tedesco and Martha Sager- Borders Open- Door Poetry. My poem "We Are Forget," is included along with work of Billy Collins, Patricia Smith, Franz Wright, Tara Hardy, Kim Addonizio and Jorie Graham. It was shot at the Bowery Poetry Club and you can see some great shots of the Walt Whitman light-brit sculpture in the background. Hope you enjoy!

Precision Poetry Drill Team does Howl

2008-07-04T00:29:00.000-07:00

This event took place on March 26. 2008 at the Bronx Library with poets from Urban Word NYC. Check out the electronic crawl above the poets. I had the librarian program it with the opening lines from "Howl." My adaptation of Howl was also performed by another group of Urban Word poets at Lincoln Center Outdoors Festival last summer. This multi-voice scoring was first performed at the High Mayhem Festival in Santa Fe on Oct. 7th, 2006, on the 50th anniversary of what was long thought to be Ginsberg's first reading of "Howl." I have found it to be an effective way to introduce young poets to Beat Poetry. Jack Kerouac wrote in "The Dharma Bums" -- "I followed the whole gang of howling poets to the reading at Gallery Six that night, which was, among other important things the birth of the San Francisco Poetry Renaissance. Everyone was there. It was a mad night.'' Recently a recording of Ginsberg reading "Howl" at Reed College in March of 1956 has surfaced.

The pedagogy I employ in working with young poets is based on the concept of scoring classic poems to be recited as multi-voiced performance pieces. We work under the title of Precision Poetry Drill Team. By learning to perform poems such as the “The Tyger,” or "Howl," the students experience the poems first as a poet or performer. The chorus or multi-voiced recitation of the poem allows the group to quickly come up to professional performance level.

Student groups that I have worked with in addition to the performances of "Howl," have performed a festival for over 20,000 people, been featured on National Public Radio’s “All Things Considered, and have been hired by the Santa Fe Opera to write and perform an original piece on the Spanish poet Federico Garcia Lorca. There is a chapter in "How to Make a Living as a Poet," on the concept of the Precision Poetry Drill Team and examples of how to score poems for multi-voices.

First Lady of France's Poetry CD

2008-06-22T19:03:00.001-07:00

"Come, let me sing into your ear," Whispering Poetry Manifesto- Before Carla Bruni married French President Nicolas Sarkozy she put out a CD of classic poems set to her music.

The opening track is Yeats'
"Those Dancing Days Are Gone"

Come, let me sing into your ear;
Those dancing days are gone,
All that silk and satin gear;
Crouch upon a stone,
Wrapping that foul body up
In as foul a rag:
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.

Curse as you may I sing it through;
What matter if the knave
That the most could pleasure you,
The children that he gave,
Are somewhere sleeping like a top
Under a marble flag?
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.

I thought it out this very day.
Noon upon the clock,
A man may put pretense away
Who leans upon a stick,
May sing, and sing until he drop,
Whether to maid or hag:
I carry the sun in a golden cup,
The moon in a silver bag.

Click here to listen to the track
"No Promises," The CD consists of 11 adaptations of poems by WB Yeats, Emily Dickinson, Dorothy Parker, Christina Rossetti, WH Auden and Walter de la Mare.

Tiny Books

2008-06-20T09:22:00.001-07:00

I am smitten with these Tiny Books from Meritage Press. Not only do they "Feed the World," but they are HOD or Handwritten-on-Demand by MP's publisher, Eileen Tabios. Read all about it at THE BLIND CHATELAINE'S KEYS. You can see some of the books at Crg Hill's Poetry Score Card. What a delightful image of Eileen sitting on her porch in St. Helena drinking a glass of wine and printing these books by hand. The image of the book is from dbqp: visualizing poetics where you can see more of the books and read commentary on Eileen as transcriber.

Each “Tiny Book” costs $10 plus $1.00 shipping/handling in the U.S. (email us first for non-U.S. orders). To purchase the “Tiny Books” and donate to Heifer International, send a check for $11.00 per book, made out to "Meritage Press" to

Eileen Tabios
Meritage Press
256 North Fork Crystal Springs Rd.
St. Helena, CA 94574

Dada Show

2008-03-22T17:08:00.000-07:00

Here is a clip Jackie Sheeler shot on March 21st, at the Son of a Pony- Dada Night held at Cornelia Street Cafe, the event is Hosted by Kathi Georges and that is Peter Carlaftes joining in as Jesus. The clip includes my rendition of Hugo Ball's "Karawane" and Hone Tuwhare's poem "Rain," recited on the fly to a guy who called one of the audience members cell phone during the reading. You can catch more clips from the reading on Utube

Giorno Event Live on the Web!

2008-02-08T21:42:00.000-08:00

Starting with the John Giorno event at the Bowery Poetry Club on Saturday, February 16, 8:00pm - 9:30pm (East Coast time) we will begin to broadcast select events live on the Internet! To honor this ground breaking poet the Bowery Poetry Club launches BPC LIVE!

Bowery Live Web Shows

NYSCA, DCA and Bowery Arts and Science National Treasures Presents: JOHN GIORNO, JAVIER COLIS, JULIAN BLAINE-

John Giorno (b. 1936), New York poet and performer associated with the counterculture movement and New York School of poetry of the 1960s, and friend to artists such as William Burroughs, Robert Rauschenberg, and Andy Warhol, revolutionized the way poetry is written, presented, performed and disseminated. His contribution to American literature has involved the attempt to link poetry with other media. Giorno Poetry Systems, begun in 1965, and later Dial-a-Poem, incorporated the use of electronic and multi-media to create new venues and a broad audience for the spoken word. www.ubu.com/sound/dial.html

Associated Writing Programs off site events at the Bowery Poetry Club

2008-01-28T20:48:00.000-08:00

AWP events at the Bowery Poetry Club- Stop by for some Naked Lunch Punch, Lower East Cider or a Robert Frosty!

Wednesday, January 30
6:00pm - 8:00pm
Students, alumni and instructors from the Stoneocast MFA program at the University of Southern Maine join forces with Study Abroad on the Bowery to read original poetry and fiction. Performers will include Patricia Smith, Tim Seibles, Gray Jacobik, Aaron Hamburger, Annie Finch, Cheryl Boyce Taylor, Jeff Kass, Christopher Watkins, Kristin LaTour, Mel Kozakiewicz, May Joseph, Mary Reilly, Gabriella Santoro, Marjorie Tesser, Kristin Prevallet and others.

8:00pm - 9:30pm
Page Meets Stage: Paul Muldoon & Thomas Sayers Ellis. Admission $12

10pm to Midnight
The 2nd Annual Cave Canem Fellows Reading - Featuring twenty poets from around the country in celebration of Cave Canem, A Home for Black Poetry. $10

Thursday, January 31
5:00pm - 8:00pm
To help celebrate AWP, Seattle's most popular and populist reading series Night of Cheap Wine and Poetry presents featured readers and an open mic. Brian McGuigan and his MC Charla Grenz host the event. FREE!

8:00pm - 10:00pm
The editors of Ahsahta Press and Litmus Press present readings by several of their authors in conjunction with the 2007 AWP Conference, featuring Kate Greenstreet, Heidi Lynn Staples, Kristi Maxwell, Rusty Morrison and Brenda Iijima. FREE!

Friday, Feb. 1
5:00pm - 7:00pm
Group Reading in celebration of AWP, featuring recent English-language poetry and work in translation from New Directions, Ugly Duckling Presse, Zephyr Press, and Zoland Poetry. Readers will include Forrest Gander, Jim Kates, Dan Machlin, Mani Rao, and Jeffrey Yang.

7:00pm - 10:00pm
Counterpath Press celebrates the publication of Lyric Postmodernisms $6- An Anthology of Contemporary Poetry, edited by Reginald Shepherd and featuring poets such as Carol Snow, Gillian Conoley, Peter Gizzi, Elizabeth Willis, Laynie Browne, Marjorie Welish, Susan Stewart, Bruce Beasely, Cole Swensen, and others.

Saturday, February 2 2008
2:00pm - 4:00pm
Celebrating Plain View Press! Readings by Susan Bright, Gloria Dyc, Pat Falk, Madeleine Mysko, David Radavich, Lauren Rusk, June Saraceno, Ken Jones, Marian Kaplun Shapiro, and Nancy Scott FREE!

4:00pm - 5:40pm
Segue Series- GILBERT ADAIR and P. INMAN $6

6:00pm - 8:00pm
Red Hen Press celebrates our 13th anniversary; the release of RATTLE CONVERSATIONS (interviews with major poets by Alan Fox), and LETTERS TO THE WORLD: A WOMPOLOGY. FREE

8:00pm - 10:00pm
Sarah Lawerence

10:00pm - 11:45pm
Salmon Poetry Launch of Salmon's celebratory anthology, Salmon: A Journey in Poetry (1981 - 2007) with readings by Patrick Chapman, Kevin Higgins, Susan Millar DuMars, Phil Fried, Emily Wall, John Hildebidle Simmons Buntin and John Menaghan. goes late- FREE!

11:55pm- Until Late
Closing Night of AWP event-
Midnight CinePoetry & Performance Extravaganza: Poets of the Unreeled! Multimedia poets, artists, and musicians Linh Dinh, Wang Ping, Paolo Javier, Ernest Concepcion, Jeremy Thompson, Kate Ann Heidelbach, dennis M. somera, Walter K. Lew, Mike Estabrook, and Dillon Westbrook give live reinterpretations of classic films, screen new videos, pay homage to great jazz drummers, and redraw on-stage some present scenes. A shadoWord production curated by WKL. $8.

Mayakovsky at the Bowery Poetry Club

2008-01-20T05:15:00.000-08:00

On Monday, March 24 2008, 7:00pm - 9:00pm The Poetry Society of America and Bowery Arts and Science present: A Celebration of Vladimir Mayakovsky. Featuring Martha Plimpton, Ron Padgett, Francine du Plessix Gray, Rachel Cohen, Matvei Yankelevich and Val Vinokur, and Michael Almereyda in a reading of the essential Russian futurist poet’s works, plus selections from the new anthology, Night Wraps the Sky, Writings by and about Mayakovsky, published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Event takes place at the Bowery Poetry Club, 308 Bowery, New York.

Here is a great story on Mayakovsky's muse and lover Lilya Brik. Brik is the woman in Alexander Rodchenko's striking and much appropriated image above. She is shouting about books!

"The poet Mayakovsky may have been a genius, a hipster, a shill, and the first and only early-Soviet rap star. "Night Wraps the Sky" finally does justice to one of the most fascinating and controversial literary bad boys of the 20th Century." -Gary Shteyngart

Read Mayakovsky's poem A Cloud in Trousers Part 1

Hone Tuwhare, has died.

2008-01-16T19:20:00.000-08:00

Photo credit: JO BEAUMONT/Southland Times

One of New Zealand's most loved poets Hone Tuwhare, has died.
Here is a link to the The Dominion Post story

Here is his poem

RAIN
Hone Tuwhare
(Poet Laureate of New Zealand, 1999-2001)

I can hear you
making small holes
in the silence
rain

If I were deaf
the pores of my skin
would open to you
and shut

And I
should know you
by the lick of you
if I were blind

the something
speical smell of you
when the sun cakes
the ground

the steady
drum-roll sound
you make
when the wind drops

But if I
shoud not hear
smell or feel or see
you

you would still
define me
disperse me
wash over me
rain

"It was with much sadness I learned of the passing of Hone Tuwhare. I was recently involved in the publishing of Our Favourite Poems: New Zealanders choose their best-loved poems where Hone Tuwhare's Rain took out top place, beating off the likes of Rudyard Kipling, William Wordsworth, and James K Baxter. No Ordinary Sun also made it to number eleven. We were overwhelmed at the number of votes for Tuwhare's work in the nationwide poll. It shows how much New Zealanders genuinely treasure his contribution, and that we do now have a poetic tradition firmly rooted in Aotearoa. I first studied Rain at high school, and then went on to study English Literature at Otago." - Phillippa Duffy

Hone Tuwhare, New Zealand's most distinguished Maori writer, has died aged 86.

Tuwhare has affliations with the Nga Puhi iwi.

He is believed to have died today in Dunedin.

Born in Kaikohe, he moved to Auckland when his mother died.

He spoke Maori until he was nine years old and was always an accomplished orator.

He met another of New Zealand's top poets, RAK Mason, while working as an apprentice at the Otahuhu Railway Workshop and the pair shared in interest in literature and trades union organisation.

Until the Soviet Union's invasion of Hungary in 1956 he was a member of the Communist party.

In 1964, his first published collection, No Ordinary Sun, received acclaim and was reprinted 10 times in 30 years.

Granted the Burns Fellowship in 1969, he moved to Dunedin where he often worked with the painter, Ralph Hotere.

Tuwhare has won two Montana NZ Book Awards, has been Te Mata Poet Laureate, and holds two honorary doctorates in literature.

His tangi will be in his birthplace of Kaikohe.

- NZ HERALD STAFF

More Tuwhare poems
More info on Tuwhare

John Giorno at the Bowery Poetry Club

2008-01-12T04:49:00.000-08:00

New York State Council on the Arts and Bowery Arts and Science Presents: JOHN GIORNO, JAVIER COLIS, JULIAN BLAINE

John Giorno, proud Papi of Performance Poetry and leading figure in the Beat and NY School scenes, joins two other world-renowned poets for a night of mind-shattering uneasy listening poetry at (where else) the International Treasures' series at the Bowery Poetry Club.

Where: Bowery Poetry Club, 308 Bowery NY, NY 10012
Date: Saturday, Feb. 16th
Time: 8pm
Price: $10 / students FREE!
For more info call 212-614-0505

"In 1961 I was a young poet who hung out with young artists like Andy Warhol, Bob Rauschenberg and Jasper Johns. The use of modern mass media and technologies by these artists made me realize that poetry was 75 years behind painting and sculpture, dance and music. And I thought, why can't I do it for poetry. Why not try to connect with an audience using all the entertainments of ordinary life: television, the telephone, record albums, etc? It was the poet's job to invent new venues and make fresh contact with the audience.

This inspiration gave rise to Giorno Poetry Systems, a non-profit foundation under which many projects were born. The record label called Giorno Poetry Systems eventually built up a catalog of 40 titles, ushering poetry onto the radio. The Dial-A-Poem service, begun, in 1968, was a huge success. Not only did we ourselves get millions of calls, we inspired the creation of dial-for-stock market info and dial for sports-info services, etc. We also foreshadowed by a generation the explosion of 1-900 telephone promotions, not to mention the delivery of the Internet over phone lines. We produced poetry videos, and films. We formed bands and toured like the rock'n' rollers. We displayed poetry on the surface of ordinary objects, producing silk-screen and lithograph Poem Prints. We established the AIDS Treatment Project in 1984.” - John Giorno from the The Best of William Burroughs Box Set.

The LA Times described Javier’s portion of the recent Leonard Cohen Tribute in Los Angeles as “the night's only really sexy moment”. Harp Magazine says that he “writhed and pranced on stage like Nick Cave or Joe Cocker”...JAVIER COLIS is one of the essential figures in avant-garde rock in Spain. He has a background as composer, lead guitar player, and lodestone member of several influential bands, including Vamos a Morir, Demonios tus Ojos and Mil Dolores Pequeños. After releasing his first solo album, “Luna de Agosto” he formed Javier Colis y las Malas Lenguas, with whom he released “El Futuro ya no es lo que era” in 2006. This album, equally intuitive and cerebral, captures his experimental spirit, combining terrifying waltzes, broken tempo blues, and rock in its less pure state. Javier and the band, consisting of Saúl Cortés, Julen Palacios, Sergio Ceballos , Adrián Ceballos and Marina Radis, hit the road and touring widely around Spain. On top of this, Javier toured solo, as a spoken word duo with poet John Giorno, and performed during the Leonard Cohen Tribute Tour alongside John Cale, Jackson Browne, Perla Batalla and Elliot Murphy.

A rare visit from the legendary JULIEN BLAINE Subject of last year's award-winning documentary, "l'éléphant et la chute" ("The Elephant and the Downfall"), Blaine was crowned the Universal Ambassador to the World of Sound Poetry (le Monde) he is the living spirit of the avant garde, proof positive, at 65, of poetry's indomitable spirit. Editor of Doc(k)s, the most influential new poetry journal in France, and founder of the Centre International de Poésie de Marseille, Blaine's own performances mix raw, guttural sound and elegantly hilarious gesture in a highly concentrated poetic consciousness. And if that's not enough, he is fabulously entertaining!

Hosting between 20 and 30 shows a week the Bowery Poetry Club (BPC) is proud of our place in the lineage of populist art: the Yiddish theater, burlesque, vaudeville, beat poetry, jazz, and punk that gave the Bowery its name. Located in HoBo at the corner of Houston and Bowery.
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Alzheimer's Poetry Project at the Bowery Poetry Club

2008-01-06T06:03:00.001-08:00

Poet Laureate of Rhode Island, Lisa Starr and New York Foundation for the Arts Poetry Fellows, Kristin Prevallet and Betsy Andrews give a benefit reading for the Alzheimer’s Poetry Project.

On Monday, Jan. 7th, 2008 from 7 to 9pm at the Bowery Poetry Club, 308 Bowery NY, NY 10012. The event is free. For more info call 212-614-0505

Guests of honor will be members of the Early Stage Alzheimer's Support Group from NYUs Silberstein Institute. The group facilitated by Tricia Spoto and Ursula Auclair meets once a week and often writes and reads poetry as a support group for people in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease. To find out more about the group contact Ms. Spoto at: spotot01@med.nyu.edu

The Alzheimer's Poetry Project’s (APP) mission is to improve the quality of life of people living with Alzheimer’s disease, their family members and the health care workers who serve them. The APP is based on a simple idea, to read poems to people living with Alzheimer's disease that they might have learned as children. APP finds, even in the late stages of the disease, that people can remember words and lines from poems from their youth. Reciting poetry helps spark memories. APP brings professional quality, recited poetry to the undeserved population of people living with Alzheimer’s disease. APP also brings students into facilities to work with people living with Alzheimer's disease.

In June of 2006, the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) listed the APP as a “best practice” for the NEA Aging and the Arts Initiative. APP was one of twenty groups in the nation to receive this distinction. APP has held 150 programming sessions at 75 facilities in Arizona, Arkansas, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Georgia, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, Oklahoma, Pennsylvania, Texas, Virginia, and Washington DC, serving over 9,500 people living with Alzheimer's disease.

Lisa Starr is a mother, innkeeper, basketball coach, and also the new Poet Laureate of Rhode Island. A champion of fun, free speech and the importance of listening, Starr founded and directs the Block Island Poetry Project, an annual celebration of the written and spoken word. She has two collections of poems: Days of Dogs and Driftwood (1993) and This Place Here (2001). She is currently working on another collection of poetry and a novel.

Kristin Prevallet is a 2007 New York Foundation on the Arts (NYFA) poetry fellow. She is a poet and essayist who currently lives and works in New York City. She is the author of I, Afterlife: Essay in Mourning Time and A Helen Adam Reader. In her academic life, she has taught at Bard College, New York University, and currently at the Institute for Writing Studies at St. John's University in Queens. She has also lectured and performed frequently at the Jack Kerouac School at Naropa University in Boulder, Colorado.

Betsy Andrews is a 2007 NYFA poetry fellow. Her book New Jersey was selected for the 2007 Brittingham Prize in poetry. She is the author of She-Devil and In Trouble. Her poems, essays, and review have appeared widely in publications ranging from PRACTICE to the Yemeni newspaper Culture.

In July of 2007, the Arizona Chapter of the APP was featured on Channel 12 News NBC’s Arizona affiliate. You can view the clip on U Tube at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A-TyExcAOTg

The APP has been featured on NBC’s “Today” show, NPR’s “Weekend Edition”, Voice of America And New Zealand National Radio, as well as in many regional television, radio, and print media accounts. These broadcasts and stories have reached over 20 million people and helped to keep the issue of quality innovative care for people living with Alzheimer’s disease in the public’s mind.

The Alzheimer’s Poetry Project is partially funded by New York City Department of Culture, New York State Council on the Arts, the Society for Arts and Health Care
and is a project of Bowery Arts and Science.

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Lorca- Poetry Slam Muse

2008-01-01T08:16:00.000-08:00

Lorca is a major influence on my writing and I had the good fortune to spend a couple of months in Granada in 1998, the 100th anniversary of his birth. What a delight to read Dale Fuchs' article Chasing a Shadowy Imp, García Lorca’s Muse in the New York Times, about artists creating exhibits in Lorca's family home in Granada. Here is a quote from the article, "García Lorca displayed a postmodern distrust of the printed word, said Andrés Soria Olmedo, a professor of literature at the University of Granada. The poet exalted the spontaneity of a reading or a flamenco performance long before words like “happening” and “poetry slam” made it into made it into anyone’s vocabulary." For me it brought to mind a late night conversation with Regie Gibson talking about Lorca and Duende after a reading in Arkansas a few years ago. Lorca's essay Play and the Theory of Duende has been a major touch stone with many slam poets and I have used that essay and quotes from it in dozens of workshops on performing poetry. So its really that Lorca's exaltation of spontaneity in performance tilled the ground for Poetry Slam in direct way, influencing and informing poets like Gibson. Check out his performance of "The Word" in the previous post to get an earful of Duende. Meanwhile John Giorno who is also quoted in the article will be reading at the Bowery Poetry Club on Feb. 16th at 8pm- more about that later.

Reggie Gibson at the Bowery Poetry Club

2007-12-31T15:15:00.000-08:00

From the Bowery Poetry Club taken in late 2007, Regie Gibson of Love Jones fame, performing his poem "The Word." This is a great video by Todd Watson with a montage of poets, including Walt Whitman and Edna St. Vincent Millay and interviews with among others Taylor Mead, who quips "There's a new excitement in the air individuals are coming back I think," and Regie's amazing performance...Not to be out done by Regie's brush with cinematic fame of course here is the story of how one of Warhol's most cheeky film's came to be called Taylor Mead's Ass

Ferlinghetti chased Subs

2007-12-29T07:25:00.000-08:00

Here is a great story about Ferlinghetti's time in WWII as a sub chaser I remember reading about how he came ashore in France, made his way to a cafe and found a poem written on the table cloth by Jacques Prevert. Ferlinghetti later went on to translate his work including Song in the Blood I had a chance a few years ago to ask Ferlinghetti about the similarities between Song in the Blood and Howl as far as the use of repetition and if Ginsberg had been aware of the poem. He was sure that he had not read it at the time of writing Howl. With the new "street view" feature on Google maps if you type in 1010 Montgomery Street you can see the apartment where Ginsberg wrote Howl. Here is a beat walking tour provided by Hotel Boheme

Poetry Night Clubs are all the Rage!

2007-12-27T18:53:00.001-08:00

Hugo Ball around 1917.
Check out the new poetry hot spot in Vegas, with poetry on the walls and estrogen vs. testosterone slams! Las Vegas' Poetry Night Club Also not to be missed the Bowery Poetry Club is having a New Year's Eve Party, not to mention the 20 to 30 events that take place there every week. Full disclosure as Managing Director of the Bowery Poetry Club I am kind of partial to the place. Of course the original poetry night club was Cabaret Voltaire which has been saved by Swatch! Karawane anyone? I know you are thinking to yourself I wonder if Marie Osmond every did a rendition of Hugo Ball's famous poem and of the answer is yes.
Donny's sis kicks it DaDa It really is a great performance and makes me wonder how long this spoken word thing has been going on? I wonder if Homer really was our Home boy? Here is the full story of Marie's transformation and Ball's original performance

Poetry News

2007-12-26T07:55:00.000-08:00

Stephen Elliott has a nice piece on the spoken word/poetry slam scene in the San Francisco Chronicle. He gets a few facts and dates wrong, pegging the origins at around 1996, when he arrived. Of course by then the slam had been going strong since 1990. He also says "The poetry slams were taken over by real performers, many of whom wrote beautifully, but non-actors couldn't compete with just words," missing poets like Marc Bamuthi Joseph and Robert Karimi and he fails to mention San Francisco and San Jose shared the National Poetry Slam title in 1999. A little digging on his part would have revealed San Jose's first slam in 1991 had 65 poets participate and was organized by Michael Vaughn. San Fransisco hosted the first ever coming together of cities to compete in a poetry slam in 1990 and that event lead to the formation of the National Poetry Slam and was hosted by your blogger. Elliott puts the end of the scene at 2001 and so misses poets like Mike McGee who recently performed a 24-Hour Solo Solstice Poetry Feature. Youth Speaks continues to host amazing events including the 2005 Youth National Poetry Slam, "Brave New Voices," which had over 3,000 people attend. Elliot's Article

Showing even more depth to the San Francisco scene, going back to 1907, is another article from the Chronicle on George Sterling's 'Wine of Wizardry' I think Sterling would have loved the poetry slam. Sterling

Jenny Holzer's "Projections," a brilliant, hypnotic installation of projected texts opened at Mass MoCA's giant Building 5, and runs through Oct. of 2008. She is now using other people's poetry for her art work including the poems of Nobel-winning Polish writer Wislawa Szymborska, including the chilling poem, "The Terrorist.Holtzer

Phoenix and Encinitas

2006-03-12T19:13:00.001-08:00

Day One
Hit snow in Flagstaff.
The reading at the Plaid Eatery was the last poetry reading.
Reason the poets don't eat enough food.
Skinny, poor poets driving out the paying public
with their rants and raves.
Brandy L sang her sweet/sour songs.
The hosts Mr. Frip and Mr. Not Frip were fun
and curry hot. Billy C ripped it up.
Day Two
Stuck in snow for two hours over the pass into San Diego.
The new Arts Coloney is in an old motel.
Few people but ever one bought books.
I should say I brought in Corbet Dean
to Desert last week and the Admin flipped
over a graphic police poem he wrote.
I told him to read anything, the kids ooved it
but the parents went crazy.
A year ago I was dancing in an assisted living center
with the ex chief of police. Now this....
I must close for now.
xox
Gary

Spring Tour 2006

2006-03-12T19:13:00.000-08:00

Variety Show Featuring Live Poetry & Music
When: Friday, March 10, 8 pm - 12 am
Where: 1044 S Terrace RD, Tempe, AZ (@ Lemon ST/ NE of Apache & Rural)
Description: Featured reading 2nd Fridays The Plaid Eatery Variety Show Featuring Live Poetry & Music 480-349-9424 | mrfrip1@hotmail.com | Phoenix, AZ

Featured reading - Arts Coloney
When: Saturday, March 11, 7 pm
Where: 90 North Coast Highway, Encinitas, CA

Featured reading, benefit for San Diego Poetry Slam
When: Sunday, March 12, 8 pm
Where: Voz Alta, 1544 Broadway, San Diego, CA

Hanna’s Loving Care
When: Monday, March 13, 10 am
Where: 417 N. Alta Vista Blvd. Los Angeles, CA
Description: More info: 323-930-0836

Garden of Palms
When: March 13, 1:30 pm
Where: 1025 N. Fairfax Ave. Los Angeles, CA
Description: More info: 818-787-0462 Oliva Griffith

GREEN Mini feature
When: March 13, 9 pm - 12 am
Where: Palmer Room (in the back of La Cucina Paradiso) 3387 Motor Ave (between Palms and National) Culver City, CA
Description: Contact Ratpack Slim ratpackslim@gmail.com

The Karlton
When: Tuesday, March 14, 10 am
Where: The Karlton 3615 W. Ball Road Anaheim, CA

Sunrise Assisted Living
When: March 14, 2 pm
Where: Sunrise Assisted Living 201 North Crescent Dr. Beverly Hills, CA
Description: 310-274-4470 Contact Krista

Workshop on using poetry with Alzheimer’s patients, for health care workers, caregivers and family members.
When: March 14, 7 pm
Where: Emmanuel Presbyterian Church 588 Camino Manzanas, Thousand Oaks, CA
Description: More info: 805-498-4502

Brighton Gardens of Camarillo
When: Wed. March 15
Where: Brighton Gardens of Camarillo 6000 Santa Rosa Road Camarillo, CA
Description: 805-388-8086 Contact Stephanie

Featured reading at Berkeley Poetry Slam
When: Wed. March 15, 8:30 pm
Where: STARRY PLOUGH 3101 Shattuck, Berkeley
Description: More info: 510-841-2082

Featured reading
When: Thu, March 16 - 7 pm
Where: Moxie's 128 Broadway, Chico
Description: More info: 530-345-0601

Featured reading at San Jose Poetry Slam
When: Mon, March 20 - 8 pm
Where: The Britannia Arms. 173 W. Santa Clara San Jose

The Mansion
When: Wed. March 22, 10 am
Where: The Mansion 1906 Glen Canyon Rd. Santa Cruz, CA
Description: 831-438-5353 Diane Dearinger

Featured reading at Monterey Poetry Slam
When: Wed. March 22, 8:00 - 10:00 pm
Where: MORGAN'S Coffee & Tea. 498 Washington (@Pearl)

Featured reading at A Mic & Dim Lights
When: Thursday, March 23 - 9 pm
Where: Downtown Cal Poly Center 300 2nd. St. Pomona (Arts Colony)

Featured reader at a Poet’s Dinner benefit for NorAz (NORthern AriZona Poetry Community)
When: Fri, March 24 - 7 pm
Where: Los Abrigados Resort 160 Portal Lane Sedona, AZ
Description: More info: 928-282-1777

Sedona Winds/Kachina Pointe
When: Saturday, March 25
Where: Sedona Winds/Kachina Pointe 475 Jacks Canyon Road Sedona, AZ
Description: Phone: 928-284-1021 Contact: Dorothy Kelly

Leaping Lorca

2006-01-06T19:07:00.000-08:00

Last summer the Santa Fe Opera commissioned me to create a piece on the Spanish poet Federico Garica Lorca. I worked with the PPDT and composed "LorcaLand." Here is one of the poems I wrote for the show.

Fuente Grande, Alfacar, Spain The Moors called Fuente Grande, Ainadamar, “The Fountain of Tears.” “Is it my separation from Ainadamar, stopping the pulsation of my blood, which has dried up the flow of tears from the well of my eyes?”
— Abul Barakat al Balafiqi circa AD 1372

Circles expanding on the face of the pond.
As if the surface were broken with rain.

Looking in I see the drops are falling up from the bottom.
A stream rising from the bed of rocks.

Rippling with tension, the steady boil of the rosary.
Flowing into each other a bead of tears.

Fuente Grande forever quenching thirsty dogs.
936 steps from the place of Lorca's execution.

Is this the way words appear breaking free into the mind?
The way kisses are brought into too scarce being?

How the surface of the sun makes yellow?
Where the moon mines her similes?

Gravity has no standing in this courtroom.
The Judge’s gavel is careening upward.

What law breakers the bubbles.
What sinners those molecules of want.

Who cannot answer the prayer of water?
Who does not regret this spilling of justice?

More PPDT

2006-01-06T18:30:00.000-08:00

The Precision Poetry Drill Team was selected for a state-wide youth performance night. Feb. 4th at 7pm at the Lensic Theater in downtown Santa Fe. Are we the only poetry marching band? Here is the original group from last year.

Bike Powered Book-Mobile

2006-01-06T17:45:00.000-08:00

Here is what one of the readers of H2Poet writes: I am a poet, mother, student, and cook in Montana. I make artist books and self publish, and usually manage to break even on my projects, and sometimes i make enough profit to fund the next one. I have started something akin to an artist collective, but we are focused on books: publishing, self publishing, printmaking, artist books, etc. I am always looking for creative ways to make money and do community service with my passions...and your book has so many great ideas and examples in it, i feel really encouraged to keep working on my dream. I have to brag to you about one of our fun and sucessful projects: a bicycle powered book-mobile. It has been redesigned a bit since the last photos were posted, but you can see it at www.slumgullion.org. Thanks! Debby Florence

NEA

2006-01-06T16:52:00.000-08:00

The Alzheimer's Poetry Project (APP) received a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts. The APP will expand to Chicago, Los Angeles, New York, and Washington DC. We have already had great reading sessions in NY with Farbeon. We have sessions in Chicago at the following locations:

Monday, Jan 16th, 10 to 11am
Buckingham Pavilion Nursing Center
2625 W. Touhy Ave.

2 to 3pm
The Admiral at the Lake
909 West Foster Avenue

We also have an exciting event planned with Artists 4 Alzheimer's at the Bowery Poetry Club, in New York on Feb. 20th. The Alzheimer's Poetry Day is based on the idea that all cultural institutions open their doors to people with Alzheimer's and is an extension of Artists 4 Alzheimer's program of bringing people with dementia to the MoMA in NY. We will hold a reading in the club for people with Alzheimer's. Find out more about A4A at www.thehearth.org/Artists/News.htm

If you want to have poetry programming at an assisted living center or find out more info about Sparking Memories: The Alzheimer's Poetry Project Anthology, e-mail me the address below. Check out Alzpoetry.com

We are also looking for people to write about using How to Make a Living as Poet. Did it work? Did it flop? Was it helpful? How to Make a Life as a Poet will be coming out in a few months. We want to publish the best examples in the third book in the series, tentatively called, "Still Not Making a Living as a Poet?"

poetmex@aol.com
Gary Glazner

Across Another Border

2005-11-25T03:44:00.000-08:00

Here is a poem written in a walking workshop I gave. We used Santa Fe as our backdrop and inspiration. I took the poets to various places around town, the Capital, Witter Bynner's home, an old print shop, the plaza and we wrote poems based on the locations. This poem came out of visiting a photography gallery. The exercise was to use one of the photos as a basis for your poem. Thanks to Pam for allowing me to post it here. Happy Thanksgiving, xox Gary

Across Another Border
Pamela Bentley
from Carl Mydan’s photograph “Collaborationist (French woman accused of sleeping with German is shaved)”

The clippers in Fernand’s hands dull
before the task of desecrating my mass of hair,
the act meant to shame me,
to destroy my femininity so I will
not be desired by men,
German or otherwise.
Mariette and her sister-in-law Josée laugh,
a joke made at my expense
but that’s nothing new.
Plus ça change …

What difference
if I seek passion in the arms of a man
from across a border?
I did not make these borders;
the lines drawn
have nothing to do with feelings.
Other men’s borders
have brought us to this place
where whom we sleep with is a crime.
And what have these people
who surround me,
taunt me,
delight in my punishment,
done to resist the Germans?
No more than I have.
My act may have even more effect.
Perhaps the satiation of lust,
the giving of love,

dulls the war appetite for battle
for killing –
(though for some it is never there at all,
I learned from the German boy
each night he came to me).

I have no fear of Fernand’s sure touch
as he shaves the back of my neck.
Fernand (who is really Fernando)
and his brother, Martín
(I will see years later when
I come across this photo of us in a gallery)
is almost smiling,
looking directly into the camera.
Martín, who that very night
ran his hands across my shaved head
touched my lips
with his fingers, then his mouth,
said I was still beautiful.

His long slicked-back hair,
when ruffled and released by my fingers through it,
was enough for both of us;
his body and the color of his skin
so like that of my “collaborator”
the “German” boy, blond,
who spoke French and Italian with the same accent
as Martín,
whose language, though like ours,
is from across another border.

Mo PPDT and the Poetry Shed

2005-10-12T04:48:00.000-07:00

PPDT performed at Zozobra, Santa Fe’s version of burning man, which predates burning man by sixty or so years. This festival attracts over 20,000 people. We had an early time slot and would perform for several hundred people with the caveat that if the producers of the festival liked our performance, they would bring us back right before the burn. I made a hodgepodge loop of some Jimi Hendrix guitar solos and scratching and we created a “Burn Him! Burn Him” chant to recite over the loop. The producers loved it, brought us back and we performed in front of the full crowd. It was amazing to look out over the field and see those tens of thousands of faces and feel the energy as they started to chant with us.

As part of this same weekend “Fiesta Days,” which has been held continuously in Santa Fe for 180 or so years, there is a wonderful event called the “Children’s Pet Parade.” About five thousand citizens of Santa line the streets to watch marching bands, civic groups and costumed pet lovers parade. I believe we were the first poetry group to march in the pet parade and I created a poetry/army style chant “How do I love thee, Let me count the ways, One Two...ect.” The crowd went wild as we poet-stepped by reciting, “The Tyger,” and “We Real Cool.” It was a nonstop hour long performance, that covered a couple of miles.

OK, what is a poetry shed? Ever since I saw the Monty Python episode including the obscure bit about “Two Sheds Jackson,” a man famous for owning two sheds, I have wanted my own shed, this year my dream came true. As we were short of classrooms I was given the option of cleaning out an old adobe building on the Desert Academy campus. As I gathered a stage, lights and last to complete the nightclub feel, small round cocktail table, I felt like Mickey Rooney saying “Hey kids, let’s put on a show!” I found out about the space on the Friday, before school started and worked all weekend, including making a fused glass “Poetry Shed” sign. I think at least part of our momentum this semester has to do with having a great performance space. Just imagine you are a high school student and you get to go to class in a quarter-size night club!

Tonight, (OCt 7th) we perform a mulit-voiced version of “Howl” at the High Mayhem Festival, to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of Ginsberg’s first public reading of the poem. Yesterday, while we were rehearsing “Howl” one of the kids said, “This has to be the coolest poem ever.” (Up date: our reading of "Howl" went over gangbusters! and the High Mayhem folks did an great job all weekend)

Next up: I am reading at the Texas Book Festival on Oct 28th, Friday night at Mojo's. A fun gig run like a talk show, with Matthew John Conley, Andy Buck, Amelia Ortiz, and Liz Belile.

Bit o' Good News from DrSleepadelic@aol.com

2005-10-12T04:45:00.000-07:00

CALLING ALL POETS, ARTISTS & FRIENDS
of the New Orleans Community

It is time.

On THURSDAY, OCTOBER 13 a critical gathering of NEW ORLEANS artists, poets and friends will assemble at The Gold Mine Saloon with a general reception between 6:00 - 8:00pm.

This event "STILL STANDING" will be a joining of hands for many of our beloved and special people in the New Orleans community whose great friendships and words and works are most vital to this region.

The event will feature a stellar cast of painters, poets, writers, musicians, artists and friends of all walks and minds.

It will also be a time for strength and for helping further our awareness of the great and incomprenhensible occurences that manifested on Monday, August 29 leading into these many nights and days since the landfall of Hurricane Katrina.

Please celebrate this great return with us, and also, as we celebrate the return of the 17 POETS! Weekly Thursday Night Poetry Reading Series at The Gold Mine.

YAWP: A Journal of Poetry & Art is also formally announcing the final call for submissions for its upcoming 3rd issue.

Those who will be making presentations on Thursday, October 13 at 8:00pm include:

DAVE BRINKS, MEGAN BURNS, JOHN CALHOUN, ROB CAMBRE, CHRIS CHAMPAGNE, PAUL CHASSE, JOSHUA CLARK, JOHNETTE DOWNING, GINA FERRARA, DANIEL FINNIGAN, DENNIS FORMENTO, ELIZABETH GARCIA, ANDREA GARLAND, GABE GOMEZ, THADDEUS CONTI, MICHAEL GREENE, LEE MEITZEN GRUE, NANCY HARRIS, KHALED HEGAZZI, CAROLYN HEMBREE, JULIE KANE, HERBERT KEARNEY, CRYSTAL KILE, JONATHAN KLINE, BILL LAVENDER, JARRET LOFSTEAD, JAMES NOLAN, BRENDA MARIE OSBEY, ADAM PELTZ, LEE QUICK, BEVERLY RAINBOLT, ROMANO, LEWIS SCHMIDT, JASON SONGE, RANDY VIDRINE, DR. JERRY WARD, STEPHANIE WILLIAMS, AND ANDY YOUNG.

This event will be documented by our longtime videographer LANCE ARNOLD.

The Gold Mine is located at 701 Dauphine, on the corner of Dauphine and St. Peter in the French Quarter of New Orleans, 504-586-0745 and 504-568-9125.

Love,
Dave Brinks

Precision Poetry Drill Team/Lit Journal

2005-08-23T00:54:00.000-07:00

Hey Blog,

Sorry, I have been so bad about posting. I promise to never neglect you again, no really. The Precision Poetry Drill Team and I were commissioned this summer to compose a piece on Federcio Garcia Lorca for the Santa Fe Opera's festival on Lorca. We performed LorcaLand twice. The kids wrote hip-hop flavored flow and we did a mash up of Lorca's "Lament" and Hernandez's "Lullaby of the Onion." It was a great send off after working together for the past year. Our group version of "Verde te que quiero Verde," done as a kind of chant was well received. A section of the was show entitled, "Whose Lorca?"It consisted of video I shot at a street fair in Santa Fe, and all the answers people gave off the top of their heads. Two women hula hooping were the best as they purposely confused Lorca with Gabriel Garcia Marquez, calling him Gabriel Garcia Lorca.

Here is link to NPR's "All Things Considered" story on the PPDT.
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4615966

Yesterday classes at Desert Academy began and I now have 18 Drill Teamers, as well as teaching a literary journal class. The students are whip smart and we have been asked to perform at Zozobra, which is kind of like "Burning Man," without the nudity and predates it by about 50 years. Part of this post is to show the Lit J class what a blog is and I just want to say, they are sweet and I can't wait to see what they do this year. I am running the class like a small press and our first project is to do a parody of the New Yorker. They will also be creating a blog and doing podcasts. I will put a link up from this site.

I really did miss you old blog o mine.
Big kisses and hugs,
Gary Mex
P.S. Sparking Memories: The Alzheimer's Poetry Project Anthology
is done and you can find out more about the book
at Alzpoetry.com
Thanks to Bread for the Journey for the funding!!

TWO POETRY SITE VISITS

2005-05-10T07:02:00.000-07:00

Albuquerque, ER Break Room: 2:05pm, 5/06/2005
“What was your trauma?”
“He fell off a horse-
then the horse fell on him.”
“Ouch.”
Tapping foot off time to the classical guitar,
a nervous tap, soft shoe, a brown clog.
“I don’t want to heat up the salmon too much fishy smell.”
“I’ve never even had a massage.”
“You lazy shit.”
Reaches around and tickles her.
Breath deep.
Guitar cascading cords.
Cotton scrubs, blue, green, clean.
Plastic badges pinned and visible.
An intercom system blasting:
C8 is ready for Swift, Swift is ready for C8

Santa Fe, Juvenile Lock Down: 4:12pm 5/06/2005
“Are you carrying any weapons?”
“No.”
“You left your grenades at home?”
“Yes.”
Blue doors slide open and close, with a hollow metal click.
Walkie Talkie, “Be advised you have two visitors.”
40 cotton jumpers, plain, all brown.
Guitar graduation.
They play Black Magic Woman.
One guy is shaking uncontrollably.
The guards see him.
Bring him out of the room.
Jamming, grrrl lock downs screaming,
boy lock downs howling.
The guy is shaking.
Breath deep.
Shake out your arms, breath deep.
They play Hotel California.
The shaking guy sits down.
All the girls sing harmony.
As they file out, “Watch your personal space.”
When I ask one of the guards about the shaking boy,
she says, “Fine,” inhaling the word, turning her head down
and sliding her eyes shut.

Youth National Poetry Slam

2005-04-25T11:15:00.000-07:00

Just got back from four wonderful days in San Francisco at the 8th annual Youth National Poetry Slam. The final event was the best attended poetry slam in the history of slam with 3000 poetry fans going nuts. New York won and will host the event next year. The team pushed the boundaries of poetry into what is being called "Hip Hop Theater." It is quite amazing to see 3000 people leap to their collective feet to cheer a poem.

The real success story on the festival was the Chico Team, who also made the finals. The team put together by Aaron Yamaguchi had strong writing and dynamic group pieces. More on this latter but for now many thanks to James Kass and everyone at Youth Speaks who put together the event.

NPR's "All Things Considered," aired a segment on the Precision Poetry Drill Team and you can listen to the story here:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4615966

I am off to the airport for a reading at a school in Savannah!

Poet's Plaza

2005-04-25T11:10:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite chapters in How to Make a Living as a Poet, is on the Poet's Plaza.
I like it because the project started out as an exercise how an architecture class and everyone got so enthused with the idea it ended up being a real flesh and concrete project. Here is the project directors' description of the ground breaking ceremony, which was held on April 22nd.

"I wanted to tell you a sweet little story from the Poets' Plaza groundbreaking. We did all the background and thanks, then Dale Harris read a beautiful poem and then Masood, one of the kids from Escuela del Sol, read one his poems. As we started to scoop up some earth to scatter (with our gold shovel) someone hollered to look into the sky and there was a perfect little rainbow across one of the clouds (someone said it was a sun dog?!?). We scattered some earth, sprinkled flower petals around and lots of folks, little children, parents, poets, artists, and grandparents, wandered in and out of the circle Cassandra (the artist who designed the plaza) traced in the ground. Very lovely. And auspicious, I think." Susan McAlister, Harwood Art Center, Albuquerque, New Mexico

For more info on the Poet's Plaza you can reach her at susanmc@swcp.com

Poet/Murderer

2005-04-16T20:42:00.000-07:00

Turns out Chicago poet J.J. Jameson was leading a double life. Check out this spin on the story:

http://www.americandaily.com/article/7269

Here is excerpt one of Jameson's poems from Chicagopoetry.com:

The Puttering Penis

Las week, late last week,
I went to the theater to listen, raptly,
to the vagina monologuing.

I put my ear down close,
I mean really, really close,
I wanted to hear every spluttering syllable,
I wanted to bite very pulsating enunciation.

I put my other ear down,
I mean really, really down,
I did not wish to miss fondling, aurally,
any climatic sentence even a fragmented one,
preferably a compound one.

Kurt Heintz, has some interesting comments:

http://voices.e-poets.net/JamesonJJ/

Slam Pappy Marc Smith is quoted as saying to the Chicago Sun-Times,"This is a huge one, It will be shocking to everybody and a little disconcerting. That's pretty wild."

Is it true that if you could be arrested for bad poetry he would have been caught years ago?

Bowery Poetry Club

2005-04-09T11:35:00.000-07:00

This post is out of sequence and goes back to March 29th. The flight into New York was delayed because of weather and we circled Chicago for an hour as huge clouds filled and exploded with lighting. I wonder what Wordsworth would have written about wandering lonely clouds if he could have seen them from 30,000 feet. Coming off the plane it was made clear that I had missed my connection and would have to spend the night in Chicago. As I was heading to take the train into town, I heard my name over the intercom system being paged to a certain gate. The short of the story is that the airline actually brought the plane back off the tarmac and allowed about 6 passengers to board.

I got into New York about 1:30am and recited, "The Owl and Pussy Cat," while standing on the bar. Two of the regulars got into a shouting match, each telling the other they should listen to me. When I got to the "O pussy, O pussy what a beautiful pussy your are," line, the woman regular said, "Please talk about my pussy," and the man regular went crazy, yelling about her pussy, which ended with her punching him in the face and him returning the punch, but she had got the best of him and they both were exiled from the bar. That's Slam Poetry!

Robert Creeley Saved Sam Hamill

2005-04-09T11:19:00.000-07:00

Tucson Poetry Festival

Was interviewed with Sam Hamill yesterday on the local public radio station. He did a poem in the voice of his long time friend Robert Creeley, turns out Sam can do a perfect imitation of Creeley's dry voice, so accurate that Sam used to call up Creeley's house when Creeley was on tour and talk to his wife as Creeley, which of course pissed off both wife and poet. That led to me asking Sam to tell a story about Bob. Sam said, "I owe my life to Creeley," and proceeded to tell how when Creeley had run off with Rexroth's wife Martha, Sam was addicted to heroin and how Creeley had told him, "Your heroes Miles Davis and John Coltrane both kicked heroin because it was killing them and their music." He then locked Sam in a bedroom for five days as he kicked his habit. Sam ended, "So if Creeley hadn't been diddling Martha I might not be alive." Later we started talking about Haiku and Sam made the point that translators always get Basho's frog poem wrong its not a frog splashing into an old pond, its a frog jumping into water sound.

Alpha Rooster

2005-04-08T10:08:00.000-07:00

Ithaca New York

Often when engaged in a poetry tour, one finds themselves crashing on someone's couch. Andy Slamtractor runs a great reading series up in Ithaca and the evening ended with an invitation to crash on his friend Mina's couch with the caveat that I help her with a rooster problem. She had adopted this fine fellow from a friend and now it was temporarily in a garbage can, with hay and chicken wire top, waiting to be moved into his new coop. The idea was that I would move the rooster in exchange for sleeping on the couch. Luckily one of Mina's friend's is a poultry expert and gave me instructions on handling roosters. It seems that because roosters subscribe to the pecking order theory that all one has to do is establish that one is the alpha rooster in order to control the lower rooster. In order to help all touring poets who find themselves in this position here is a step-by-step guide to becoming an Alpha Rooster:
1. Get a firm grip on the rooster's back.
2. Push it to the ground.
3. Reach underneath the rooster and grab its legs.
4. Flip the rooster on its back.

You now have complete control of the rooster and can move it as needed. Caution, you have about 3 seconds between grabbing the rooster's back and pushing it to the ground to establish dominance before the rooster realizes you are not the Alpha and pecks the shit out of your hand.

All night I thought about the rooster. In the morning Mina and I went outside and approached the rooster. I made my first mistake when I moved the garbage can closer to the coop, this enraged the rooster and when I removed the chicken wire top he puffed up, his feathers swelling with anger. I reached down grabbed his back, his beck dug into my hand and he pulled loose. He winged out of the can and began to race around the yard, me splashing in the mud after him. Mina shouting, "Catch him, catch him. He was fast and darted from out the can each time I tried to put it over his head.

Then he turned into a fenced in section of the yard and banged his head against the fence and in his dizzy state I grabbed him, pushed him down and got hold of his legs. Mina, shouted, "Flip him," and he went limp as I put him in his coop.

What a male ego opportunity. Don't forget poetry sounds like poultry.
xox
Gary

The Purple Cow and Monkey Nuts

2005-03-21T16:14:00.000-08:00

Although the majority of readings I have done for Alzhiemer's patients have been enjoyable and rewarding, like any endeavor sometimes things don't go as hoped for.
Today in Savannah the patients had bruised eyes, sores erupting from their skin,
they drifted in and out of focus mostly out. The facility was clean and seemed well run, just a sleepy time of day and a group on their last legs.

As I was reading them "The Purple Cow," one woman began screaming at me, "Does the Monkey want a peanut?" Then she would look around and yell, "Does anyone have peanuts for this monkey?"

On the positive side another woman mouthed the words of the poems along with me and clapped when I finished the poems and the woman with the worst facial sores knew most of the words to Psalm 23, "The Lord is my Shepard..." which she recited with verve.

Musical Hot Tub

2005-03-21T08:38:00.000-08:00

The reading last night in Greenville, SC went well, good audience and a great local
retro beat band with growling lead poet, were they called, "Daddy Jack and the Paddy Wacks?" The reading is run by Kimberly and she packed the house. Wendy Loomis an old friend from Poetry Alive showed up and we went back to her house in the woods of North Carolina. We had crab stuffed pork chops, then ventured out to the hot tub, which included a rotating light show and old time jazz. The tub also had a water fall spout and foot jets, producing a full body vibration that bordered on illicit. While test scores continue to fall and today's headlines reveal that the pressure for schools to perform under the "Leave Know Child Behind," act has led schools in Texas to cheat- not the students but the teachers and administrators, America continues to lead the world in hot tub design! Soak! Soak! Soak!

Kayaking Honey Creek

2005-03-20T04:56:00.000-08:00

The Southeast Booksellers retreat is v. relaxing, all the food is fried, all the booksellers love books, yoga in the morning and wine at night. Wanda Jewell
who puts it on is welcoming and has the great idea to put writers and booksellers
together and see what sparks fly. It really is wonderful to meet people who own and manage bookstores and learn how hard they work to put the right book with the right person; how hand selling does still exist, even with the malling of America.
Every poet/writer should have the chance to chill with book people.

This morning I took a kayak out on Honey Creek, the water was still and flat, red headed woodpeckers pecked about and the living was easy.

Yesterday, all the attendees got massages. The novelist Elizabeth Flock (Me and Emma)
had the best line, when she looked up with her big green eyes and told the masseuse, "Anna, if we were both single, you would be my girl." To which Anna replied by increasing the pressure of her kneading.

Ah, life on Honey Creek. Late at night we danced to swing music. Are you old enough to boogie?

Oak Trees and Spanish Moss

2005-03-17T12:00:00.000-08:00

Honey Creek Georgia

Stopped at an old plantation and walked the grounds. The brochure talks about how after the end of a steady supply of cheap labor the plantation was no longer profitable-can you say reparations? Light rain and Spanish moss on the huge old oaks, it is beautiful here in the south. Did you know New Mexico had Indian slaves
as late as the 1920's?

Sylvia of Sycamore Gallery, in Atlanta pulled together a last minute gig, got a few people out, poured wine and made me feel at home. Jammed with the jazz band at the restaurant across the street from the restaurant. The gallery had realistic paintings by Suzy Schultz including a series of a flamingo, er Spanish dancer, not photo realism but she captures something of the person, makes you feel like you know them.

The Southeast Book Sellers Association meeting starts tomorrow. I teach a workshop, "How to Drink Coffee Like a Poet," with plenty of beatpoet slurping.

Bar-B-Que/Basketball/TV/Poetry

2005-03-16T14:20:00.000-08:00

Alabama
Last night got sucked into March Madness as the café that had been full all day emptied to just myself and the 3 baristas, the nearby college was hosting a game and playing that night in the tournament. I read the baristas a poem that was embarrassing for them and me; still they were nice about it and took the sting out of no one showing up for the reading.

I trusted a local poet who said she would get the word out, but on arriving no one had even bothered to put up the posters I had sent. You are vulnerable when you book a tour, hoping for the best when someone says, “Yes we’d love to have you come and read.”

Started off the day on television in Memphis, "Live at 9," with a trio of young star-search women in ball gowns, perfect make-up and high C voices, gorgeous young women and their nervous moms. Read “The Tyger,” and talked about working with Alzheimer’s patients. The hosts were great although shocked when I told them, "How to Make a Living as a Poet," is fiction.

Then this morning got a call from a radio producer that thought the Alabama reading was today! She still wants to do a story that will run in April for poetry month and I shall get my Alabama audience. Just after she called I pulled into Wyatt’s Bar-B-Que in Decatur. Ah, bar-b-que and sweet tea. Old shack, sauce been on the stove since 1829, greens and black-eyed peas for luck.

OK City Erotic Poetry and Art

2005-03-14T18:44:00.000-08:00

Small but enthusiastic workshop in OK City, as usual Jonathan Bryant and his paramour Lindsey were great hosts! The reading was at a gallery performance space for Individual Artists of Oklahoma and they had just had their big fundraiser for the year- a fetish party. The gallery was still hung with erotic art and during the reading I stopped and had people write spontaneous interpretations of their favorite art work. We then went around the room and read the pieces. Lots of heavy breathing and whispers of, “Its getting pretty hot in here.”

More Police and Poetry

2005-03-14T13:45:00.000-08:00

Read to 75 residents of an assisted living center outside of Little Rock this morning, including the one time chief of police of the city. Played the harmonica and got him up to dance. Got a good blues stomp going and we started to swing, twirling and doing a version of the cheek to cheek tango. He told me he didn’t like poetry when I came in and started to leave, but I think I won him over by letting him lead. Imagine someone telling him years ago when he was still on duty, that he would be dancing with a poet in an old folk’s home. One woman told me as I was leaving, “If I had known poetry was so fun, I would have paid more attention to it.”

Police and Poetry

2005-03-13T11:46:00.000-08:00

I saw him parked in the middle of the highway.
I tapped my brakes and slowed down to 65 from 80.
Looked in the rearview, too late he was pulling out,
I pulled over, rolled down the widow, got my license ready.
Poet: “Hello officer, how are you today, saw you slowed down,
Please don’t give me a ticket; I’m on a book tour.
Cop: “What’s your book called?”
Poet: “How to Make a Living as a Poet.”
Cop: Hearty belly laugh, “OK, no ticket.”
He invited me to his cruiser, checked my record, and interviewed me.
Cop: “How did you get started writing?”
Poet: “Dirty limericks in the 9th grade.
I asked him if he wanted a book, he did I signed it,
To Officer Sean, thanks for keeping the roads safe for
Poets and other people.
Xox
Gary

The Green Eyed Monster

2005-03-11T22:02:00.000-08:00

The folks at Eureka Springs were great. Rita recited a poem she wrote called, “The Green Eyed Monster.” She remembered the whole poem, which she wrote 20 years ago. Russ went along and worked well with the patients. They group of had a great sense of humor, with one woman asking if I was married and when I showed her my ring, she turned and asked if Russ was married. Party at Doug’s after the reading at the Slam. So 00's to be at a party working on a blog.

One Couch Surfed

2005-03-11T06:53:00.000-08:00

After an 11-hour drive and arriving at Doug Shields' place
in Fayetteville, he decided I needed to see Cat Fury's new band,
"All Else Fails," tame name, hot band. Cat and lead guitarist, Jessica
were dressed in plastic wrap skirts, held on by electrician’s tape.
The mosh pit was full on huge men; faces pierced primitively, slam dancing. In the corner the opening band celebrated with grrl on grrl
kissing and dunking for nipples, lit up with the mini DV camera crew. Is anybody not making a mini DV movie? It was the perfect
first night of the tour.

Now off to read poetry to Alzheimer patients in Eureka Springs.
xox
Gary

Tour Kick Off

2005-03-10T06:17:00.000-08:00

Welcome to the H2Blog.

It's early morning here in New Mexico, the car is packed and as soon as I finish coaching the Precision Poetry Drill Team, (PPDT) I leave for a 16 day, 19 reading tour. The big news is that NPR came and recorded a session on the PPDT that will probably air in April. I will post when and where to listen when I have the details.
Here is a little about the PPDT.

Desert academy's Precision Poetry Drill Team performs multi-voiced classic poems such as Blake's "The Tyger," freestyle, hip-hop takes on Poe's "The Raven," a chilling version of Szymborska's "The Terrorist He's Watching," a jazzy version of "We Real Cool," by Brooks and original spoken word. The ensemble draws inspiration from everything from jump rope rhymes, military chants, auctioneers of animals, gospel call and response to rap. It's synchronized swimming with words and Modern Greek Chorus and motor-mouthed youth spilling over with teenage angst. These kids are lettering in poetry! The Precision Poetry Drill Team is a rah-rah free zone.

What this blog is about is getting your responses to the "How to Make a Living as a Poet," book and publishing the best of them. Please write your ideas, takes, thoughts of bringing poetry to life. I look forward to hearing from you!

XOX
Gary