SPOKEN WORD 2011-05-23 after the Rapture.

Photo: poet overcome with emotion when Alberto refuses to allow him to read entire 200 page manuscript:
Report by Alberto
Photos by Adèle (lots more photos here)

Donc we are still here, on the planet, in Belleville. Survivors of the apocalypse gathered at Culture Rapide, as every Monday at 8PM. The next one (apocalypse I mean), according to Isaac Newton’s calculations upon the Book of Daniel, will be on 2060. Meanwhile Suzanne Allen kicks off, Lesley Wasserman:

“Unfortunately your penis fucks like a florescent light

seven espresso seconds

and sadly your marble lips smother mine…”

(I will add here some random photos including an interesting one of Julien and Arash and the grabber... - David)

Bryan (is in the kitchen) King, reads one poems by himself: “I'd like for you to be the dirt behind my ears…” and one by Richard Brautigan: The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster

When you take your pill

it's like a mine disaster.

I think of all the people

lost inside


Andrei Ramirez visiting Jim Morrison’s grave: "Doomed to the Library of Sex, there are several poets nailed to the walls… and a few good writers chained together, singing songs…” Sidney, Cecilia Woloch (photo below) with a dirty poem after a period spent in the cleanest Switzerland, she’s running the Paris Poetry Workshop:


Diana Vaden, Claire about the rapture plus London Particular by Tamar Yoseloff, David Barnes: “My head says one thing, my heart another”, Khronos gave me this beautiful book: “Le Poète et le Tsar” by Khronos featuring Puskin:

SERGEI: Pourquoi ne parles-tu plus, mon ame?

LE NOUNOU: Parce que je t’ai perdu mon ange.

Danielle, Alexandra, Emily&Max, Kate introducing Upstairs at Duroc, James, Patrick Hipp to his ex-girlfriend (still a great source of inspiration), Alberto Rigettini in Fuckoffville, Moe Seager, Corey Arterian: "Everybody should masturbate", Marie singing a song I can’t remember, “On the Dancefloor” by Rihanna according to James (give him credits) or “Don’t stop the music” according to the academia, Hal reading his “The Scavengers”. Part III sees a funny, lonely and vicious Julian Field, D.W. reads from his forthcoming new book (and you will discover his real name):


(Note: I think that may have been him in the first photo on this post -- David.)

Helen’s french impro, Chris and friends (photo of Ashley and Chris below)...

...Antoine, Matilde playing Joni Mitchell’s “A Case Of You”, Leeland, Trelys’s report of a wonderful week and ukuleling happy birthday to Suzanne, Kate and Helen, Meghan “I’m not afraid of being afraid”, Nicolas, Zach, Georgina, Tyler’s “Story for George” (As he says: First person to read a sappy poem, a story about adolescent masturbation and have an emotional breakdown on the same stage in the same month). The Last is The Maxx with “From her eyes into horizon”. Ca suffit. See You next tomorrow.

Wed 18th May prose reading

PAUSE ON THE LANDING, a reading series

sponsored by the Paris literary journal


invites you to an all-prose reading

Come hear new work by




followed by an informal discussion

Where: BERKELEY BOOKS OF PARIS, 8 rue Casimir Delavigne,

75006 Paris, Metro Odéon

When: Wednesday 18 May, 2011, 7 PM.

Report from the SpokenWord of May 9th

by Alberto

It’s May in Paris and apparently all around the world.

Benjamin Perriello told us the story of Bahram Gur, King of Persia and ruler of the world, as narrated by the poet Nizami long long long time ago (in the 12th century) (old school, man, nothing’s like the old school). Kyle plays this kind of songs:


Suzanne Allen reads three poems: "Our Love is Like a Paradelle with Enjambment and Homonyms" , "Last Train", and the third, unnamed, but formerly known as "Impending Freedom."

Claire Trevien announcing her forthcoming translation poetry workshop:


Moe Seager:

“Jazz is a Gypsy on a wagon stoop, strumming new found sounds in his finger tips,

Jazz does a duo with Mozart and Bach, a spoon in tune with Cafe Vienna,

and Jazz is a niche on a back-street in Paris, rendezvous lovers, loners and Poets.”

Khronos is Major Tom and Rimbaud, both lost in space, KellyJoy gives just “five minutes to taste me!” Gnam.

Round II: Benjamin Perriello’s the story of Bahram Gur part II, Taylor,

Anthony Allan Poe introducing Variètè Anglaise: http://varieteanglaise.blogspot.com/

Then Lucas Corcoran:

“All of a sudden there are no more secrets left

because now I know your bellybutton is an octagon

and somehow the only angles more acute

are the slight panics that still make each day a surprise

I think I would have loved you more if I had never met you

no matter now”

Patrick and his song for a girl, then James about a guy whose name I forgot,

Hal read “Party” his short story published on the current issue of Malahat Review:


Georgina’s “diving off your eyelashes”, then Alberto’s second attempt to explain in 5 minutes what the heck Aristothelian Ethic is about.

Round 3 - Amanda writes from the Quai: “this smell of pee is making me sick …these memories are splish-splashing in a bottle.” The Maxx went romantic with two love poems “the Kiss” and “Done”.

Welela met a guy in Chicago, sharing a taxi during a snowstorm, and the result is this poem from her book “Salt.” Read it and buy it if you like it, here you can even have a preview:


Zachary: “There was blood everywhere” , Tyler, Fanny’s “Time will heal this restless heart of mine”, Jeremy’s “shit happens to me”: how he and big Ben fought the Hell’s Angels in Reno.

Moe’s now “I wanna make Jazz to you”, Loona and then I called Jeremy back on stage thinking his story wasn’t over, but I was wrong. Spoken Word was over, in accordance with our new Cinderella rule, as it was midnight.

Translation of Baudelaire's Le Poison

... that I read on May 2nd's SpokenWord. Emmanuelle read the original in French and I read my own translation in English. Both texts below. It was a lot of fun playing with different words and phrasing.

Wine decks the most sordid shack

In gaudy luxury,

Conjures more than one fabulous portal

In the gold of its red vapour,

Like a sun setting in a nebulous sky

That which has no limits, with opium is yet more vast,

It reels out the infinite longer still,

Sinks depths of time and sensual delight.

Opium pours in doleful pleasures

That fill the soul beyond its capacity

So much for all that, it is not worth the poison

Contained in your eyes, your green eyes,

They are lakes where my soul shivers and sees itself overturned.

My dreams crowd in

To quench these bitter gulfs

So much for all that, it cannot surpass the terrible wonder

Of your saliva that bites,

It plunges my remorseless soul into oblivion

And rolls in like waves of vertigo,

Faltering, on the shores of death

Le Poison by Baudelaire

Le vin sait revêtir le plus sordide bouge
D'un luxe miraculeux,
Et fait surgir plus d'un portique fabuleux
Dans l'or de sa vapeur rouge,
Comme un soleil couchant dans un ciel nébuleux.

L'opium agrandit ce qui n'a pas de bornes,
Allonge l'illimité,
Approfondit le temps, creuse la volupté,
Et de plaisirs noirs et mornes
Remplit l'âme au delà de sa capacité.

Tout cela ne vaut pas le poison qui découle
De tes yeux, de tes yeux verts,
Lacs où mon âme tremble et se voit à l'envers...
Mes songes viennent en foule
Pour se désaltérer à ces gouffres amers.

Tout cela ne vaut pas le terrible prodige
De ta salive qui mord,
Qui plonge dans l'oubli mon âme sans remords,
Et charriant le vertige,
La roule défaillante aux rives de la mort!

Report from 2nd May

Began with some bluesy guitar from Stedy. Sam came through the factory gates with darkness in his eyes. James from Bucksnort, Tennessee: Have you heard? They got Obama! Trelys Du Prè (photo) knows that you are the perfect you. No one else can be you better!
Adèle's characters looked up from the pages saying ''Give us life, give us life!'' Roxy Azari was our featured poet:
An Iranian American slam-winning poet from NYC, with electrifying passion, on a kind of slam workshop world tour.
Julien Field told of drinking in the Zorba with a decidedly insalubrious entourage, as somebody sprinted away into the night with his backpack. Troy was trying to trap the hunter to the sound of frogs barking. James spoke of sulphurous release where they fashion death in jackets. Chris, Georgina, Hal (pictured) and Patrick had Osama's compound ''mapped out down to the last ass-crack... and we knew it was gonna get hairy! Americans can do whatever we set our minds to.''
Georgina: When a squid ejaculates in your face it'll give you a lazy eye that won't ever get off the couch. Patrick sang ''Please don't go!'' as Hal delivered pizza in his mum's old mini van. Myself & Emmanuelle poisoned ourselves with Baudelaire. Marie and Antoine leaked light everywhere, drowning.
Tyler (pictured) told of his year long crush on a Mormon: ''Our bodies raged and we masturbated like it was religion.''

But as he said, ''All us boys do is piss white and feel tired.''
Suzanne teetered besides the canal. Growing older is no Swan lake! Alberto answered questions on Aristotle using a text he translated from ancient Greek. Zack and friend counselled ''Blow up your TV!'':
The night came to an end as Fanny's shoes filled up with stones. As Hannah noticed, ''everyone seems spun together by the end of the night.'' Troy raged against the dying of the light. ''But look,'' said Preeti, ''here come the fish people.''

More tomorrow night, Monday from 8pm (poetry starts at 8.30) with Alberto philosophising and acting as your host.

Cheers all,