We, as a public, even as a literary public, are not always in a state of preparation, so frames matter. One cannot always be ready to be moved. Its true that soldiers have been known to keep poems in their breastpockets. Captives have been known to feed off of memorized poems for survival. So we know that a work will live anywhere, anyhow, if it is so sorely needed. But most of us, who do not live so clearly on the edge, need a little help if a poem is to find its way into our daily business.Read More
We were blessed with this super cool write up from NYT reporterDusica Sue Malesivic this past April for National Poetry Month: There is no velvet rope to traverse, no waiting in line and no entrance fee. Instead, the poets take their works to New Yorkers: on trains and ferries,...Read More
Okay, I confess. More than half a year has passed since I’ve done my own laundry. And before you start imagining putrid piles of clothes cluttering a Brooklyn abode, or bi-weekly garbage bags of musty discards making their way to the Salvation Army and a wallet of maxed-out...Read More
The train doors open. We board the Q cool as a pinstripe suit, we use different doors, scattering ourselves randomly about the car. As the doors close I become painfully aware of the fact that I would never make it in any sort of espionage work; the excitement terror and...Read More
We all have our masks. But nothing like a perfect ordering of words to unlock the unnameable thing that's been sitting at the tip of your tongue. A voiceover from your mental mind and you realize, the only thing you need to do is... connect . Only connect. Poets, who knew poetry was the missing language yet it's always been with you. And in that sublime and rumbling underfoot, you connect with your greatest self. Thanks for listening.