The word is image and the image is viral… so I always find myself conflicted when at a performance I’d like to share, with a poet I’d like to others to hear, I do not have my camera. I have a phone, that is a camera, true, but I do like to capture images with a light box that’s only purpose is to capture light really very well. Conversely, it is nice to be free of the snap snap snap so the ears can focus on the words at hand. Last night, another fucking Thursday (I am the only one who works on Friday as well as every other day of the week), I made it out to two excellent poetic events without my camera. I thoroughly enjoyed both events and listened well as I could.
In lieu of photo documents, I decided this morning to reach into my body and pull out images of last night. They happened to fall on discarded Thank You cards intentionally.
First event of the night was the recently established monthly open mic reading, Moon Milk, which, if you are in the area for the next one, I highly recommend you check out at Casino Gallery. Every month they have a featured reader–this month Edie Roberts came up from Detroit with a pile of publications from his own press, Bathmatics, where he is investigating the role of editor and attempting to disrupt the traditional editorial role and functioning largely as a facilitator, pairing visual artists with poets, and spreading the means of production into a more communal event.
At the reading I picked up a one of Edie’s self-published chapbooks, The Heel and the Face, and a little production by my friend Kathleen Hughes titled, Bloodlust & Dream.
After the reading, a group of us hopped over to L’etranger on James St. where Kelsey Knight performs, every Thursday, her POEM OF THE MOMENT. Visit–and sit with her and her typewriter. Vulnerable conversation of intense one on one. Facing each other. Just radically speaking everyday connection that is rare. And a poem written literally between you.
This little object that you take away, ash dancing from fire.