Monthly Archives: March 2006
Jester’s
Great time tonight out at Jester’s Cafe in Westfield…the hosting by dkeali_i was excellent, it was great to see psyches_task and thisrabbit come out for it, and the open mike was of particularly high quality.
One of the open mike readers was a woman who won an honorable mention in a contest I took second in back in 1995, when she was fifteen, and she remembered me because tonight I pulled out an ancient poem that she recalled me reading back then at the winners’ reading. Weird.
The feature went well, despite the fact that I messed up “Snakes On A Plane” a little by shuffling the order of certain images, but I managed to make it come out ok.
Next feature: the Cantab, March 29. DVD recording, most likely. C’mon out.
wide and empty
south dakota is wide and empty.
i once had a friend who swore it didn’t exist,
because he never met or heard of anyone
who had been there. it was a private joke
in my circle of friends. i knew it had a history,
but that’s all I knew.
now i know more: that it is sparsely populated,
that it has a legislature and a governor, that a rapist
or a molesting relative there has father’s rights, and a woman
has no right not to be pregnant.
i hate writing this type of poem,
in fact i won’t even call it
a poem, it’s just a cramp in the heart writ large,
it’s just what i always do,
begun because i feel superior to south dakota tonight,
and this is my puppet for public view.
so watch my hands do the dance of the poet
enraged. watch my mouth say the right things.
then watch me turn my back and go home to boston,
new york, chicago, san francisco…
the truth is i still don’t know south dakota,
its open plains, its frightened men and women, its self-satisfied
and triumphant public servants and their supporters;
and i’ll stay away from south dakota, i don’t want to know it at all,
that wide and empty place,
i’ll deny south dakota
until south dakota comes
to me.
Hustle and Go
I’m getting ready for my feature tonight in Western MA at Jester’s Cafe, Westfield. I’ll be there around 6:30 or so — gig kicks around 7-7:30. C’mon down.
And — because I want to keep it in front of people…I’m posting this info yet again. I put it up a couple of times during the weekend but I know how stuff gets buried, so here it is for your perusal.
Read this for info on a new reading — come out and play with us!
Please get in touch if you’re going to be touring — I’m trying to fill a nearly empty schedule in a minimum amount of time.
Tonight at the Asylum…
Well, despite the open reading being a bit of a sausage fest…it was a great night. Packed house, pretty decent poetry overall.
After pimping the hell out of the new reading, I did “Snakes On A Plane” which went over well…and I did it off page, much to my surprise. Something’s going on — I seem to have gotten my ability to memorize back. First time reading it, too…that’s three new poems off page in the last two months. You’d think I was getting ready to slam again or something. (No.)
After the open, thisisstar and her band The Bad Idea Party took the stage, bringing us all an intense mix of poetry and music. The band tonight was Star on cello, an acoustic guitarist, and a violist. Amazing work. Star’s voice is haunting and lovely, and at least one of her poems (a powerful metaphorical piece combining imagery of a woman and a piano) left me jealous, as in “Damn, I wish I’d written that…and I know I couldn’t have.”
I’ve watched Star grow as an artist ever since she was a budding teenage poet at the Hut. This was a remarkable and gratifying feature to watch on many levels. If the Bad Idea Party is playing near you, go see them.
New reading in Providence RI
Sorry for the repost, but I’m trying to make sure this stays current and Sundays are so…quiet. Gotta hustle for features…looking for a mix of locals and touring folks; probably will be trying to alternate weeks wherever possible.
SPREAD THE WORD!!! If you’ve got access to a list where people might value this info, go for it. I’ve got it on the Yahoo slamlist already; if it’s not on the PSI forum go for it (I can’t access that at the moment).
___________________________________________________________________________________________
After some feverish, whirlwind organizing and negotiating…
We’d like to announce….
A NEW
POETRY
READING!!!!!!
Beginning March 21st, we will be holding the GOTPOETRY LIVE reading in Providence, RI weekly on Tuesday nights.
The long running Spoken Word series having recently come to a sad ending, several of us saw an opportunity to revitalize what was once an important night and poetry scene in the Providence area. At one point, touring poets in New England had an opportunity to read on Tuesday nights while on tour; that’s been unavailable as an option for several years. It’s back.
The reading will be held in the window of time from 7-11 on Tuesday nights at Reflections Cafe at the corner of Governor and Wickenden Streets in the Fox Point section of Providence. This lovely little cafe has ample, comfortable seating, a regular clientele, is a WiFi hotspot and offers excellent coffees, beverages, desserts, and sandwiches at reasonable prices. It draws from Brown, RISD, Johnson and Wales, and the funky neighborhood community. It’s queer-friendly and uncensored.
We’ll be looking to book a balanced and varied slate of strong features from the touring circuit as well as outstanding and developing local talent. We’ll be putting the full weight of the gotpoetry.com website behind the booking and promotion of the scene as well (details to follow).
This won’t be a slam. Providence has a vital slam scene; this is at least in part designed to offer an alternative outlet for those who don’t slam, as well as to give those in the slam scene another place to listen and be heard.
The organizing committee of the new reading will be settling our roles and responsibilities over the next few weeks. Right now, these organizers are:
Tabetha Bernstein
Tony Brown (um, me)
Mike Danis
Natey Hutnak
John Powers (um, johnpowers)
I’ll be hosting the opening night of this new venue, March 21st, with our very special inaugural feature Sou MacMillan (thisrabbit).
More details regarding the setup and format will follow over the next two weeks.
After a number of years hosting my small hometown reading (which will continue), I’m excited to get back into the fray with a larger scene and with a group of people as devoted to poetry as these. Please come play with us!
Actively seeking people interested in featuring — please get in touch with me here or at my e-mail address: chryslerpoet@livejournal.com
WHEEEEEEEEEEE!
Birthday update
I’ve been 46 for several hours now, and I can tentatively report:
— sexual arousal is unaffected (we’ll have to wait and see about performance);
— I’m visiting the bathroom about the same amount of times as usual;
— my pants are still comfortably ensconced around my waist.
I have been out yelling at the neighbor’s kid to stay off the lawn. This is somewhat disconcerting, as my neighbors are my parents.
Trying to be the first to use it in a poem
SNAKES ON A PLANE
I woke up tonight after a nap
and looked at myself:
fat again, in limbo again, still medicated, still
underemployed. Smoking again. Drinking
too much, and snappish and boorish to boot.
Tomorrow’s my birthday. I’m nearly 50.
The TV and the magazines tell me
it’s all Snakes On A Plane from now on —
you know, where you’re waiting for something to kill you
and you’ve got nowhere to go.
So why for the first time
do I like what I see?
Maybe because of this:
There’s a black dog in the corner who keeps
looking at me. Right now, he’s chained up
and there’s no drool, he might be asleep but
with eyes that dark it’s hard to tell.
I know this dog.
I’ve known him for years. He doesn’t bite like a snake —
no quick nerve-freeze, no sudden fall —
no, the dog clamps down
and holds on till you’re dragged to the ground,
and he’ll follow you around all the time waiting
for his chance to do it.
I used to worry about that.
I could care less now.
The way I look at it:
at this age I’m well into the second half.
Whatever bites me, bites me.
If I get depressed, I’m skipping the suicide
because there’s isn’t all that long to wait.
And if there are snakes
on this motherfucking plane,
motherfucker, please — at least I’m flying.
a note:
tomorrow is my birthday.
I will be 46.
I consider this neither a cause for despair nor celebration. I honestly just don’t care one way or the other.
Friends and loved ones will do and say something, I’m sure; that’s nice, and I appreciate it from them. And from all of you.
But please, please, please — no big fonts, no big shoutouts, no ‘send people to the blog to wish him a good one,’ ok? It’s just not a day that means that much to me.
T
all i can currently say about the previous post
is that something exciting may be happening poetically in the near future.
again, more later.
watch this space
there was poetry in the cafe at night
and revolution in the air…
(apologies to Bobby D)
forensic science (edited)
it was nothing, he told himself,
nothing, not his fault. misunderstood intentions,
misread words. too many long nights of wrestling
with unseen things. the weight of expectation
was too heavy for either to bear, and there was no way
for them to bear it together. he kept telling himself that
all the way through to the fraud and the agony
of delivering the news that he was leaving.
though he thought he’d let her down gently, so gently,
she walked away stunned,
undead, red with the betrayal.
but afterward he bulged with guilt he wouldn’t admit
was there, and when the blood had cleared
he ignored the forensics,
even though that was enough to explain everything
if he had believed in the science.
he kept telling himself that it was nothing,
only nothing, even though the weapon was his,
even though the fragments matched his weapon, even though
everyone could see the splatter all over him
when he stepped into the light.
Dark Matter 