Suzanne's prize-winning poem for English teachers and waitresses/waiters everywhere...
Keep Them All
When you wait tables or teach, you don’t quit
one job for another. You keep them both,
keep them all because you need the money.
You skip a lot of meals because you're broke
or busy. You eat a lot of fast food and feel guilty
when you wait tables or teach. You don't quit
believing it will get better. You don't quit
drinking either. You drink and save up bottles,
keep them all because you need the money.
And you say you do it for the environment—
all that saving, reusing—you do it with people too.
When you wait tables or teach, you don’t quit
stockpiling lovers who ask nothing of you,
lovers you never leave and you never ask to stay.
Keep them all because you need the money.
Let them buy you dinner. Meet them for lunch.
Have sex. Keep living. Keep believing that
when you wait tables or teach, you don’t quit.
Keep them all because you need the money.
This won a prize in California Quarterly's annual competition. News from her:
"I just got word that I'm gonna be in a women's poetry anthology with Sharon Olds and Erica Jong! And many others, of course. My name isn't on the blurb but you can see it on their site... scroll down to "Not a Muse..." not quite half-way down the page... due out in March: http://www.havenbooksonline.com/ The "Dummies for Mummies" book looks intersting too!
They've accepted my Ginsberg knock-off, "Wail." An oldie but a goodie. Funny, I never submitted it anywhere else before this... and I'm not even sure it's done. But I had a little feeling about this match... just a little one guided by hope and smothered by fear of rejection--but a feeling none the less! More often I'm surprised by the poems editors "like," always sad for the unloved ones ;)
I'm not familiar with the press, but I love the name--Haven Books. And I don't know the editors either... better do a little research! Can't wait to see it!"
Report from 17th November (Work)
A packed night at the Cabarét Pop in Beautiful Belleville. I think what I like best is the insight poets and performers' stuff gives me into their interior worlds. Worlds richly different to my own. Maybe that's the first reason why I go to these things. Plus enjoying the language and the jokes - a lot of humour last night. And finally 'cos Spoken Word is becoming this party/social event.
So, the report:
Charly était en Amerique. Bonjour Frisco! Giéno? Il y a des gens qui vivent les vies qui ne sont pas les vies. Rufo, before his recent windfall, oiled his piston till it shone in the night. Aidan's been working away underground in borrowed words. He says the earth will seduce you. Amy's rusty flower snaps the lighter straps. Leemore gave us vignettes about bicycles & boys and went out with a song. Ellen's been trying to kick the other woman habit. Beverly performed extracts of her plays, asking 'What message are your shoes sending to the world?' Christophe n'a pas de souci et pas de sou. Or possibly pas dessous. Alexa - whose performance poems are on the Spoken Word blog - shook out her hair in full witchiness, getting raunchier with each verse. Peter & Armen were looking for hoovers. Sally had some cracking lines. The thing thing about men is, for them sex is like pizza. They're glad to get even cold pizza. Suzanne naomiwolfed us. Sarah's lexicon of the erotic blew out eardrums in Limehouse. Pauline mixed alcohol and teaching, suspected her students, et finalement elle s'est marriée pour les raisons fiscals. & Xander relived being 10 and scratching that itch, the first pre-sex sex. You wanna play highschool?
Thanks to all others who read & who I haven't jotted down impressions of.
More in 13 days!
Cold pizza, anyone?
Xander's blog:
http://pont-des-arts.blogspot.com/
If you want to read his piece on the pretend high school game, hassle him through his site to send you the link.
So, the report:
Charly était en Amerique. Bonjour Frisco! Giéno? Il y a des gens qui vivent les vies qui ne sont pas les vies. Rufo, before his recent windfall, oiled his piston till it shone in the night. Aidan's been working away underground in borrowed words. He says the earth will seduce you. Amy's rusty flower snaps the lighter straps. Leemore gave us vignettes about bicycles & boys and went out with a song. Ellen's been trying to kick the other woman habit. Beverly performed extracts of her plays, asking 'What message are your shoes sending to the world?' Christophe n'a pas de souci et pas de sou. Or possibly pas dessous. Alexa - whose performance poems are on the Spoken Word blog - shook out her hair in full witchiness, getting raunchier with each verse. Peter & Armen were looking for hoovers. Sally had some cracking lines. The thing thing about men is, for them sex is like pizza. They're glad to get even cold pizza. Suzanne naomiwolfed us. Sarah's lexicon of the erotic blew out eardrums in Limehouse. Pauline mixed alcohol and teaching, suspected her students, et finalement elle s'est marriée pour les raisons fiscals. & Xander relived being 10 and scratching that itch, the first pre-sex sex. You wanna play highschool?
Thanks to all others who read & who I haven't jotted down impressions of.
More in 13 days!
Cold pizza, anyone?
Xander's blog:
http://pont-des-arts.blogspot.com/
If you want to read his piece on the pretend high school game, hassle him through his site to send you the link.
Cosy Biscuit by Roger McGough
A poem with a slightly skewed perspective on work...
Cosy Biscuit
What I wouldn’t give for a nine to five
Biscuits in the right hand drawer,
teabreaks, and typists to mentally undress.
The same faces. Somewhere to hang
your hat and shake your umbrella.
Cosy. Everything in its place.
Upgraded every few years. Hobbies
Glass of beer at lunchtime
Pension to look forward to.
Two kids. Homeloving wife.
Bit on the side when the occaision arises
H.P. Nothing fancy. Neat semi.
* * *
What I wouldn’t give for a nine to five.
Glass of beer in the right hand drawer
H.P. on everything at lunchtime
The same 2 kids. Somewhere to hang
your wife and shake your bit on the side.
Teabreaks and a pension to mentally undress
The same semifaces upgraded.
Hobbies every few years, neat typists
in wet macs when the umbrella arises.
What I wouldn’t give for a cosy biscuit.
Cosy Biscuit
What I wouldn’t give for a nine to five
Biscuits in the right hand drawer,
teabreaks, and typists to mentally undress.
The same faces. Somewhere to hang
your hat and shake your umbrella.
Cosy. Everything in its place.
Upgraded every few years. Hobbies
Glass of beer at lunchtime
Pension to look forward to.
Two kids. Homeloving wife.
Bit on the side when the occaision arises
H.P. Nothing fancy. Neat semi.
* * *
What I wouldn’t give for a nine to five.
Glass of beer in the right hand drawer
H.P. on everything at lunchtime
The same 2 kids. Somewhere to hang
your wife and shake your bit on the side.
Teabreaks and a pension to mentally undress
The same semifaces upgraded.
Hobbies every few years, neat typists
in wet macs when the umbrella arises.
What I wouldn’t give for a cosy biscuit.
Report from 3rd November... Furniture?
Photo: Ellen singing about bedbugs.
So what was it all about? More than 40 people, 21 poets 2 singers, one pickpocket. The pickpocket went through my jacket pockets but did not steal my biography of Rimbaud. No one got robbed. Got a good look at him though.
So what was it all about? Furniture.
Michael says a renter's gotta pay the rent. Rufo knows less than he used to, says to head nowhere special, hopes to uncouple hope from desire, his radio tuned to nothing. Genio était comdamné à rester au lit. Ton absence s'empechait de dormir. Une nuit foutu. Michele produced odes to sex in the Bottleshop, to Guantanamo, to Belleville. Suzanne missed the metro, following Colette in the middle of the night. Chase took the biological function of a flower & singed the epidermis of my soul. ''I want whipped cream with my slice of sky.'' Ellen sang Baby's Got Bedbugs but that maybe because she's a Difficult Woman. Leemore dragged in a crib and a bedframe for some quiet apprehensive love. Christopher was curious about a box. Stephanos set fire to his couch. Sally visited the Taj Mahal asleep and rose with Maya Angelou. Pour Jaco, tous ça c'est humain. À chacun son opium. Devant sa fenêtre le monde est pété. Didier a fait un réprise de Baudelaire. Lux, Calme et Volupté. Edward dipped into his world of furniture vocabulary, encountered Grindling Gibbon and furnished his mind. Thanks also to others who read or sang. Erica has gigs coming up I'll let you know about.
Thanks all for coming. By popular vote we're moving to an earlier time for the next one.
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