Cancelled SpokenWord for Nov 1st

Hi all,

Just got news that the Cabaret Pop will be closed Monday for Toussaints and so there will be no SpokenWord that day. :-( Next SpokenWord will be 8th November.

Apologies for late notice, the Cabaret Pop only just informed me.

If you're looking for something to do, Shakespeare & Co - the bookshop that never sleeps - have a reading that night link


Report from 18th Oct

Photos: Jonathan, Laura Mullen, Various Members of the Public...
Dylan Harris' tally was 2 U-boats and a minky, in a slippery light. Jonathan worked on a whole host of issues. Strange, fragmentary poems. Lily saw blindness, ratification, killing killing killing. Jen Dick sent out spies to every corner of the globe. Alberto reported the death of a slammer. Izzy, a South African poet stranded in Paris, woke up on Redemption Street. Laura Mullen reported on how the war is affecting the Oscars ceremony, and Various Sore Subjects. Flo was ni l'un ni l'autre. Probably still is. Jérémie a parlé à la lune, la voie lactée. La nuit c'est autre chose, un théatre magique... Maxx is generally more worried than married. Suzanne dropped stars into the skillet, they spattered and hopped... Don't call Bibu maladroit. And Michélé saw inedible traffic lights. Time for his breakfast on the transatlantic wheel.

Next instalment tomorrow, when Alberto takes the helm (and the hat.)

Who Are You?

By Suzanne Allen

If you want to change your name, you have
to change your friends too. People who know you,
see you, need you to be one thing, have a hard time
calling you another. They need something
to hold onto, something to set their clocks by, some
way to remember where
in their little black books they put you.
They need something from you that,
probably, you can’t give them. They might ask
for the spelling of your new name, but have a hard
time remembering it when they introduce you
to other people. They will stammer, explain who
you used to be as if this
memory were more true than you, standing there
in the foyer, waiting for them to correct themselves.
They will tell stories about your last husband
or your next one, your old car, the time
you drove off with your skirt hanging out,
dragging in the street. They might even remember
the colors—the orange and magenta flowers
or the shiny black paint job that they could see
themselves in when you parked at their curb. But
in general, they will have a hard time
remembering. You will have to remind
yourself that you are not who they remember,
that you probably
never were, and that the whole friendship need not
be written off as an illusion. It was only a time
in your life when you were more like them
than you are now. And it made everyone happy
to believe, for a little while, that they
knew you, when in fact, they only
knew you when.

Alberto's Report from SpokenWord 11.10.2010

Lovely Spokenworders got together for this mid-October’s episode, as usual in Belleville.

Marie Claire Calmus was in the house, Dylan Harris, in the house, the house is Culture Rapide Cabaret Populaire, Eric De Jesus, visiting from Philadelphia was in the house too.

Check out his myspace:

Bounch of poets.

Even the bartender was performing his verses:

“Elle fait l’eour de l’horloge

Veut à tout prix prendre le large

S’aidant de quelques arpèges

Pour oser tournee la page.”


Troy was there:

“Punching you on the face is fulfilling.”

Troy Yorke

And Caesar, Alexa, Miss Peacock, Nicolas, Magalì,

and me.

The psichedelic brainwasher Michele, Chris to the Newens, and Benjamin,

Bibù, Natascha from Russia, and Tyler:

“The debris of our collision seems to have been tidied.

Heat and noise have come to occupy your place.

Deceived again by my dreams, I surrender myself back to sleep.

It is there, after all, that you seem to exist.”

Tyler Magger

The Maxx, and to close the night, Suzanne.

She’s one of the Spoken Word’s favorites. We gonna miss her.

See you soon.

Or to use Alexa’s word:

“She brings out the best in me

We like ze wine and ze chat ah oui oui oui!!!

she’ll always be true blue to me

Cuz she’s a solid gold girl, a California Girl like me.


She’s a California sunset in Paris…

a star in the noontime sky

a taco full of laughter in a coffee shop in Amsterdam

a short ride on a long rollercoaster at midnight

Forever Bopping on

Hopping on the metro to the next dream…

See you soon Golden girl.”

- Alexa Rutherford dedicated to Suzanne Allen.

Report from SpokenWord 4th October

First a couple of photos of the audience:

Zinovy Vayman filled up his 5 minutes with haikus...

It's me! It's me!
Knowing it's him, she hangs up.

My life has a superb cast
but I just can't figure out the plot.

The autumn mosquito
Ready for death
Stings me.

I read part of Ginsberg's Kaddish about the death of his crazy mother. John Citizen, over here on loan from Tall Lighthouse in London, knows the gloves are off in Glasgow. Undaunted, he read from the Library of Love. Check him out & listen to the poem here.

Caesar performed Talk Jamaican For Us and exhorts you to try to erase these lines, render yourselves untouchable and unique...

Sally had a double word score; they should've known. Hapi was salt and water. Troy found a groove along the wink of time, barely breathing back the universe. Bruce's flight was cancelled; he was going nowhere, his ticket all burned up. Time for a taking of babies' breath. Michélé had a blue light cat & the ghost of Allen Ginsberg. Alberto's dick was digging his heart's grave.
Kelly's act was criminal. Chris and Ben were Person A and Person B, discussing the difficulties of having no theme. Then the chickens came home to Proust.
Ed argued that for water to have direction it needs a frame; are poets any different? Wet, in a puddle, going nowhere... Yet concluded that I can't take away the frames just by not announcing a theme.
For Beth, Jesus is just a fat guy who never takes the helm. Amy married a monster from outer space. And Robert, poet laureate of outer space, spotted Bigfoot in Paris.

Report from SpokenWord 20.9.2010

Thanks to Jonathan Russell for these photos. Here's me pointing to some ''Unreachable stars...'' after Dylan ''Poets Live'' Harris described some rather elegant escalators.
Noah navigates by vanity, a reflection of the misbegotten, a view from the wrong side of the blanket. James (pictured) recalls boyhood...
Tim specializes in poetry with eyebrows, angles and glances:
...while Kate knows that only 6 minutes of normal time remain. Then it gets weird.
Amy Dalton: online, on edge:
Other highlights included: Dylan's unsung contraptions & night spiders. Where's the blind watchmaker now? Mandoline: everyone love-hates a winter clown. They've coined the chemistry of love. Chris: Letters to a Young Poet (Rilke) Alberto: rolling and clanging under the bridges of Paris, a story of 2 who jumped off the bridge and onto a bateau mouch. Troy: last stop on the cuckoo car. Maxx: There is no 'If' (Robert Smith)

Next SpokenWord is tonight! 9pm at the Cabaret Pop...

The Cabaret Populaire & environs

At the bar...
During the break...
Outside, street view...
Separated at birth?

Poets Live - new reading series

Dylan Harris, seen here at SpokenWord, launched Poets Live last Tuesday. A once-a-month reading series showcasing poets with books.

Poets Live is a ressurection of John Kliphan's long running Live Poets Society and takes palce at The Highlander Pub.