Last night, I arrived late to the party at Larry’s Poetry Forum, as per usual. there was no featured reader going thru his or her words, standing underneath the spotlight, in front of the very nice mic, though. I was confused. I ordered my wine (1.50) tipped the poetry-reading bar tender. I sat down, and over heard the new crop of college kids. The featured reader had cancelled. It would all be open mic. three to four poems each. I signed up. I read three.
There are always good readers for the short open mic portion of this reading. Last night was very nice. A lot of people read a lot of passionate poetry. There was also a lot of political poetry. I tend to be more subversive than the other readers with political poetry. While they might read something that is directly about “fuck Bush”, I might read my letter to an ex-lover who is stationed in Iraq, or letter to my friend Alison in Italy, which opens at a protest. I don’t do this because I find the direct poetry artless. I do it because I am not skilled enough to write that poetry myself and make it as artful as many of my contemporaries can. They have ways with rythm and meter that I just don’t have.
I got an interesting compliment, though. I was told after wards that I, “have a wicked sense of humor, but it’s dark at the same time.” So, yeagh, I think that’s what I usually go for.
I read “what I learned from zombie porn,” which people were unsure of at first and then warmed up to. (the cringes at the line about severed limbs were phenominal) Also, “The Cardiologist” and “Anxiety”. I love reading, but I shake the whole time. Grrr.