Hosting boosts the immune system – at least that’s my theory – so when I was asked to host the march Plasticine Poetry I was happy to accept to fight off a cold. I ended up co-hosting with the poised Susie Berg – it takes two to sub for usual host Cathy Petch. We split the duties with me looking after the first set of open-stagers.
spring is just around the corner
Susie introduced first feature Suzanne Alyssa Andrew. She opened with a lyric ‘ever felt something look over your shoulder,’ ‘your fear fuels his power.’ The she read a well-chosen excerpt from her soon to be published novel ‘Circle of Stones.’ A scene set in bed of two lovers teasing and playing. Tarot cards come out ‘the cards smell like the inside of her dance bag – feet, sweaty tights and rosin.’ A real sense of the people was drawn with precise images and realistic dialogue.
As I had taken a UofT Master Poetry class with Niki Koulouris, I was happy to introduce her. She read from her recently-launched book ‘The sea with no one in it.’ Her pieces dealt in one way or the other with the sea & with painters: Philip Guston, Jasper Johns, Anselm Kiefer. The poems flow with strong images ‘rosewater that smells or sardines,’ ‘watching the rain is like watching a foreign movie’ ‘as many stars as there are targets.’
morning glory tells a story
Susie conducted the next parade of open stagers to start the second set. Then I introduced Sheila Stewart, who, in green, brought more than the flavour of St. Patrick’s Day to the stage. Her engaging poetry took us directly to the twisty roads of Ireland and then to High Park. A strong sense of place kept us from being lost even when we ‘emerged on a road you thought was elsewhere.’ Many of her vivid turns of phrase ‘word leapt from the body and never returned,’ ‘alone for the weekend I forgot to put my skin on’ resonated with me.
how much longer
Michael took a rare step on stage to introduce Molly Peacock. She easily lived up to his effusive words with a simple set with a couple of sections for her forthcoming book Alpabetique (sp?) – in which each letter has it’s own life. In P we appreciate the ‘the smell before rain,’ in B with feel the struggle to be B in the fractious world of fonts. Her poem ‘The Flaw’ reminded us that ‘though the flaw I am alive.’
April 21, Monday – featuring – Lizzie Violet’s Poetry Open Mic at The Amsterdam Bicycle Club – 7:30 – doors and open mic sign up, 8:00 – start – 54 The Esplanade, Toronto https://www.facebook.com/events/1379693865637955/
April 27, Sunday – attending – Julie Czerndea Workshop http://chiseries.ticketleap.com/chiseriesworkshop-julie-czerneda/
June 6-8 – attending – Bloody Words
June 23-27 – attending – Manuscript to Book – Loyalist Summer Arts – Belleville, Ont https://www.facebook.com/events/589522924455695/
August 28-31 – attending – FanExpo Canada http://www.fanexpocanada.com
Force
how did I turn out
the way I turned out
no one held a gun to my head
said
you do this
you become that
unless the force of peer pressure
can be called that gun
what force is it that makes
one of us heterosexual
and another homosexual
who would chose either
considering
the drawbacks
better to be nonsexual
to avoid all the pressures
of meeting mating so-called morality
working out
raising children
avoid stds
doesn’t seem
that either side
of the life style equation
really gets such good press
the sexual grilling of congressmen
the boredom of those who
never seem to stray
the envy for those who do
the energy wasted on judgment
who would chose either
yet there is some force
beyond the ken
of the mind heart peer pressure
the dna string spinning around in our blood
a force that makes
all the variations flux and flow
those people caught up in it
are trying to find
some way to make sense of it
that allows
for a space for each
well, not all people
as some have this dna string
that doesn’t allow for any variation
where any variation
must be destroyed
shunned
that very fact
makes me wonder
what force brings anyone into
the fold of the shunned
something happens
that pushes against the tide
of the commercial world around us
breaks them free
of the rigid accepted standard
it happens
like sun spots
and like any invisible force
it becomes easier
to go with the tide
that to fight against it
the greater the resistance
the greater the pain
the hidden becomes less hidden
when the pain of hiding is too great
what was once such a scandal
doesn’t seem to have the weight
it once had
no force behind the fear
to sustain that pressure as it once did
it stopped being seen as revolution
and was accepted as a part of evolution
we can’t draw a line
that keeps the races apart
when hearts are involved
the sky is the same over all heads
the earth is the same beneath all feet
the feet of the judgmental strike with the same force
are held by the same gravity
as the feet of those who are judged
as the feet of those
who know nothing about anything
the messy melting pot
that gives all the opportunity
to be
none has the right to deny
that right to another
and even though some don’t
they find themselves
eventually drowned
in the ever rising tide of the past
of history
and the rest of us
make our way as best we can
not looking to disrupt anything
but merely to be
street without snow!!
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