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

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

Poetry in Motion Redeux

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

Happy Firecracker Day!

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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!