I promised Zero Point Zero this week would be about race, and it will be.

This is a peripherally related question. And as dumb as it may seem, I don’t think it really is a dumb question. I think it goes to the heart of the issue, in some ways.

How did you learn what race you are?

I promised Zero Point Zero this week would be about race, and it will be.

This is a peripherally related question. And as dumb as it may seem, I don’t think it really is a dumb question. I think it goes to the heart of the issue, in some ways.

How did you learn what race you are?

were great.

Friday: a lovely ceremony, I read my piece, family and friends and a thrill when the minister (named, fittingly enough, the Rev. Jenny Justice) said, “By the authority vested in me…” and Dan and Mike got to kiss as a legally married couple.

Then, we decorated an Old Town Trolley with a “Just Married” rainbow flag and balloons to take the guests on a wild ride to the reception — folks were honking and screaming and applauding as we drove by. We even went by the State House to see if the governor was in so we could wave hi….but no dice.

On to the reception: at the amazing Radius restaurant, a full vegetarian banquet of English pea soup, asparagus with morels and truffle vinaigrette, hand rolled potato gnocchi with spring veggie ragout, roasted cauliflower, and a dessert of the best chocolate dishes ever — a chef’s sampling. Oh, jeez, was it amazing. That and the pinot noir flowing all night….

The next day — shoot home, do some errands, then back for the big party — huge quantities of Vietnamese food and good talk with friends we didn’t see the night before.

Today was recovery, as you can imagine.

See you soon…

Hi all — Tony Brown here.

LAST CALL!!!!!!!!!

One last time, I’m posting this important announcement about submissions
to the Worcester Review.

The deadline is TUESDAY — June 1.

We’ve received a fair number of submissions, but don’t want anyone to
miss out.

I’m posting it to multiple lists; apologies in advance for any
duplications. Forward to your respective lists as needed. GET THE WORD
OUT!

thanks,
Tony

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

We’ll be devoting an entire issue of The Worcester Review to the art of
performance poetry. This review will be published in time to be on sale
at the iWPS in Worcester in February of 2005.

The Worcester Review is a VERY prestigious journal distributed
nationally and internationally. It has consistently published the work
of some of the finest poets in the world, celebrating and adding to a
long tradition of the appreciation of fine poetry in Worcester.

More information about the review is found at:
http://www.geocities.com/Paris/LeftBank/6433/

We’re honored to have the Review devoting an entire issue (estimate, 128
pages) to the art of performance poetry.

While we’re going to be soliciting some essays and poems from various
people, we’re looking for you to bring your own best work to the table
by submitting up to 5 poems according to the guidelines listed below.
(Yes, we’re only taking snail mail submissions…sorry. )

I’m going to encourage you all to look at sending us work that will
stand up on the page as well as on stage. The usual audience for the
Review has not traditionally been a performance oriented audience per
se; this is a brave departure, and I’d love us to show off our craft in
this issue.

I will be one of the co-editors of this issue with Worcester’s own Linda
Warren. I can tell you that we’re both excited as hell about this.

PLEASE do not hesitate to let me know of any questions you have…we’ll
make sure answers are as prompt as possible, and communicated
effectively through this channel and others as is appropriate.

I’d also appreciate it if someone would send this to the Slammasters’
list, and ask all SMs to get the word out to those not on the list.

Thanks!
Tony

The Worcester Review
The Worcester Review
is an annual
perfect-bound literary volume drawing on national and international
submissions. Special issues focused on the lives and work of poets with
strong ties to Worcester include Elizabeth Bishop, Stanley Kunitz,
Charles Olson, Frank O’Hara, Etheridge Knight and Donald Baker.

Call for Submissions:

The Worcester Review is looking for submissions for a special issue on
Slam Poetry to be released in conjunction with the National Individual
Slam competition to be held in Worcester in February of 2005.

We are looking for poetry that works both on and off the page and essays
which coherently examine aspects of slam and performance poetry so that
our readers may have a clear understanding of all sides of the genre.

Submissions should be marked and mailed with SASE to:

Slam Poetry Special Issue, c/o Linda Warren, Editor, The Worcester
Review, 6 Chatham St., Worcester, MA 01609. Deadline, June 1, 2004.

————————————————————————

is up, a confection for the holiday weekend consisting of a general rant about slam/poetic things that annoy me, irritate me, delight me.

Give a look see, if you’re so inclined, and don’t be afraid to post comments, insults, and rants of your own…

Over and out. See ya on the flip side.

T

http://www.gotpoetry.com

is up, a confection for the holiday weekend consisting of a general rant about slam/poetic things that annoy me, irritate me, delight me.

Give a look see, if you’re so inclined, and don’t be afraid to post comments, insults, and rants of your own…

Over and out. See ya on the flip side.

T

http://www.gotpoetry.com

OK:

SPEAK last night was pretty darn ok. A larger than usual crowd, including (finally) more locals; among other irregulars, Meester Stegosaurus made a premiere appearance, as well as welcome returns by Kae Collins and the long-absent Paul Gagnon. Of course, Lea D and Gary H and Melissa G and Walt U and Dave M and Tom and Cathy and Heather and … eh, you get the picture.

When I got home there were e-mails from 3 other brandy new people saying they were sorry they couldn’t be there. One bit of press and see what happens? All locals too…finally heading for what I had envisioned. Now if I can get high school/college kids there too…

The “electricity” theme brought an interesting vibe to the night; we also got a bunch of “Burst” poems, left over from the canceled May 12 meeting.

Fun.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I’ll be off tomorrow, getting ready for the late afternoon wedding of my friends Dan and Mike.

God, I love saying that!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After that, got all sorts of weekend plans — hope to see Regie Gibson Saturday night, got cookouts on Monday to attend.

I am really, really hoping I feel well enough to do everything I’ve got planned. I suspect something will have to give, as this is the most I’ve had planned for a given weekend in quite a while…

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Say happy birthday to myainsel! (I think I’ve gotta skip out on festivities tonight, unfortunately; stuff at work got weird this PM and think I am not up for a night out before tomorrow.)

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

OK, kids…if I don’t check in over the weekend, have a good one…I will be putting up a Zero Point Zero tonight, will try to post a link here when I do.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

OK:

SPEAK last night was pretty darn ok. A larger than usual crowd, including (finally) more locals; among other irregulars, Meester Stegosaurus made a premiere appearance, as well as welcome returns by Kae Collins and the long-absent Paul Gagnon. Of course, Lea D and Gary H and Melissa G and Walt U and Dave M and Tom and Cathy and Heather and … eh, you get the picture.

When I got home there were e-mails from 3 other brandy new people saying they were sorry they couldn’t be there. One bit of press and see what happens? All locals too…finally heading for what I had envisioned. Now if I can get high school/college kids there too…

The “electricity” theme brought an interesting vibe to the night; we also got a bunch of “Burst” poems, left over from the canceled May 12 meeting.

Fun.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I’ll be off tomorrow, getting ready for the late afternoon wedding of my friends Dan and Mike.

God, I love saying that!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After that, got all sorts of weekend plans — hope to see Regie Gibson Saturday night, got cookouts on Monday to attend.

I am really, really hoping I feel well enough to do everything I’ve got planned. I suspect something will have to give, as this is the most I’ve had planned for a given weekend in quite a while…

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Say happy birthday to myainsel! (I think I’ve gotta skip out on festivities tonight, unfortunately; stuff at work got weird this PM and think I am not up for a night out before tomorrow.)

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

OK, kids…if I don’t check in over the weekend, have a good one…I will be putting up a Zero Point Zero tonight, will try to post a link here when I do.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

was pretty decent tonight. I’m drugged to the gills right now, so more later tomorrow, I have a class in the AM.

In other news:

Yeah? I would have put the percentage much, much higher.

I’m reaching a point of no return with some stuff in my life.

Hard to describe; sort of a turning point. Sort of a revolution in the planetary sense; sort of a drag on the forward motion that makes a top stop its skittering across the floor and come to a standing spin versus a traveling one.

Some reasons exist, but they aren’t important. Reasons exist to facilitate the explanation of movement or lack thereof; they don’t make anything happen. If you are into Voudoun, you’d know that zombies exist without having to ask how they exist. If you live in America, you know that television works without knowing how it does its job. That’s the beauty of reasons; they are completely independent of things themselves, they explain or not, and everything still continues.

At any rate, I’m sitting at work with my legs Lithium-jittering and the cholinergic yawning of the SSRI in full bloom. I look like a sleepy spastic to anyone watching, and the reasons don’t matter.

I’m not fully satisfied that everything will be alright.

Tops fall unless they are whipped incessantly.

I do not know how I keep spinning. That there are reasons I’m still spinning don’t matter; the trick is to forget, over and over, that in another time I’d already be gone.

Forgetfulness and busywork make excellent whips.

Everything is unimaginable until you give up looking for reasons.

The theme is “electricity”.

Please come. I may not have anything to say tonight, and I could use the support.

I started this sometime ago and never completed it.

Consider this an exorcism.

WHAT SHE SAID

What she said
before she pushed me aside
was that she was, at last, happy.
While I was pleased to hear that – I am not a vindictive man —

I regret to say that I still found it easier to snarl about it than
to recover from learning that
it was nothing to her that I had been crazy for
half the time we’d been together. I can’t blame her.

Who really gets that the whole point of
the condition is that your resources are the last thing
you can call on when you need them because
they are over there behind a wall and you

can’t even see them,
let alone reach
them? After awhile,
you figure out that happy

is for others. You figure out that stable
is for someone else, and you learn that
the ones who are stable think this is simple to fix
and the ones who are happy suspect that it’s your fault you’re not.

We’re just different, after all. Just different.
We were different. I was sad, she was happy. I was still in love,
she thought she still loved me. I was doomed, she had
promise. I am going farther away than ever,

and she gets to stay behind.

HOKA HEY

is what the movies say
the Lakota cried out
before battle – it means “today
is a good day
to die” – and maybe
that’s exactly
what happened

but here’s a question:

whose deaths
do you think
they were thinking about?

I have watched us
miss the point
over and over again
that any battle fully joined
requires
that you die
beforehand

and perhaps this is how
we have learned to kill
so casually
efficiently
easily

and why we love
the smell of
blood

HOKA HEY

is what the movies say
the Lakota cried out
before battle – it means “today
is a good day
to die” – and maybe
that’s exactly
what happened

but here’s a question:

whose deaths
do you think
they were thinking about?

I have watched us
miss the point
over and over again
that any battle fully joined
requires
that you die
beforehand

and perhaps this is how
we have learned to kill
so casually
efficiently
easily

and why we love
the smell of
blood

I’m liking this process of writing these off the top of my head, and putting them out there for immediate comment. It’s sorta like hanging fresh sheets of paint before knowing what the picture is of.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Night
sometimes leaves
wounds that never
heal. Broad daylight can carve you

too. Dawn and dusk hold their own
dangers. Face it:
nothing is safe, nothing is
comforting. You might as well

give up on growing old, as it
happens so rarely. In fact,
pretend you’re already dead.
Pretend you’re not American.

Pretend the clothes on your back
smell of napalm. Think
of imperialism as a flavor of the
month at the local ice cream parlor,

and scoop yourself out a double dip.
Buy jewelry from Mexico, henna from
Egypt, hash from what they tell you is Morocco
but is more likely Contra Costa, California.

Give up your television, praise your musicians,
wave a burning flag at the cameras, run home
to your parents when the flames get too close.
This is your world. All that danger you claim

to despise? It’s your breath. All that money
you claim to fear? It’s your blood. All that bullshit
you claim to reject? It’s your bullshit.
And owning your bullshit is part of growing up.

Night wounds you, yes; day carves you, yes;
everything is always fatal in the last reel. But
you were born here, you were made here, and as
bad as it is, bite down on it like tinfoil and love it:

it’s the only way
you’ll ever find
the heart
to make it disappear.