Tuesday!
Only a couple of days until Spoken and from the sounds of things, it is going to be huge.
I can't help but get excited. Most of my favorite poets are not the guys and gals being published or the poets that I was taught in high school and college. Most of my favorite poets are bar poets made up of the old group from Speak Easy. Steve writing poems about a penis and Cory writing poems about a pack of smokes. If you don't know the two poems I just mentioned, you are in for a treat. While I can't help but get excited, this is also the point where I start to get nervous. What if people don't show up? What if we don't have any readers? What if nobody likes us? In a way I feel kinda like the new kid in school having a birthday party who doesn't think anybody will show up.
Hope to see all of you there, feel free to come up and say hi or ask me to stop sending emails.
Tuesday July 12th Broadway Pub, look for us to start at 8:30
To give you a quick poetry fix.
At the Poetry Reading- John Brehm
I can't keep my eyes off the poet's
wife's legs—they're so much more
beautiful than anything he might
be saying, though I'm no longer
in a position really to judge,
having stopped listening some time ago.
He's from the Iowa Writers Workshop
and can therefore get along fine
without my attention. He started in
reading poems about his childhood—
barns, cornsnakes, gradeschool, flowers,
that sort of stuff—the loss of
innocence he keeps talking about
between poems, which I can relate to,
especially under these circumstances.
Now he's on to science, a poem
about hydrogen, I think, he's trying
to imagine himself turning into hydrogen.
Maybe he'll succeed. I'm imagining
myself sliding up his wife's fluid,
rhythmic, lusciously curved, black-
stockinged legs, imagining them arched
around my shoulders, wrapped around my back.
My God, why doesn't he write poems about her!
He will, no doubt, once she leaves him,
leaves him for another poet, perhaps,
the observant, uninnocent one, who knows
a poem when it sits down in a room with him.
I can't help but get excited. Most of my favorite poets are not the guys and gals being published or the poets that I was taught in high school and college. Most of my favorite poets are bar poets made up of the old group from Speak Easy. Steve writing poems about a penis and Cory writing poems about a pack of smokes. If you don't know the two poems I just mentioned, you are in for a treat. While I can't help but get excited, this is also the point where I start to get nervous. What if people don't show up? What if we don't have any readers? What if nobody likes us? In a way I feel kinda like the new kid in school having a birthday party who doesn't think anybody will show up.
Hope to see all of you there, feel free to come up and say hi or ask me to stop sending emails.
Tuesday July 12th Broadway Pub, look for us to start at 8:30
To give you a quick poetry fix.
At the Poetry Reading- John Brehm
I can't keep my eyes off the poet's
wife's legs—they're so much more
beautiful than anything he might
be saying, though I'm no longer
in a position really to judge,
having stopped listening some time ago.
He's from the Iowa Writers Workshop
and can therefore get along fine
without my attention. He started in
reading poems about his childhood—
barns, cornsnakes, gradeschool, flowers,
that sort of stuff—the loss of
innocence he keeps talking about
between poems, which I can relate to,
especially under these circumstances.
Now he's on to science, a poem
about hydrogen, I think, he's trying
to imagine himself turning into hydrogen.
Maybe he'll succeed. I'm imagining
myself sliding up his wife's fluid,
rhythmic, lusciously curved, black-
stockinged legs, imagining them arched
around my shoulders, wrapped around my back.
My God, why doesn't he write poems about her!
He will, no doubt, once she leaves him,
leaves him for another poet, perhaps,
the observant, uninnocent one, who knows
a poem when it sits down in a room with him.
posted by Spoken at 12:12 PM
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