Dear Poetry Fans,
Poetry & Poets in Rags
It is a week of taking sides, and a week of coming together.
Sides are being taken around the world, as they have been for too long, causing poets to be imprisoned. In a story not easy to top, an online poet from America, our friend Luisetta Mudie, has translated an essay on love written by imprisoned Uyghur poet Nurmuhemmet Yasin. Sino-America polarity comes to us a few clicks later in another story, in another form, with another call for love. I leave all the other polarities for your discovery, except to mention to please scan down to our Back Page item. We have a showdown tonight at 9:00 Eastern on the web, an event you will not want to miss, Robert Pinsky & Julianna Baggott.
An event you won't want to miss, unless you are fortunate enough to be in the Hay area. We are in the middle of a great coming together of poets and thinkers at The Guardian Hay Festival. Many of this week's articles are related. In fact, one of our Great Regulars, our good friend Sarah Crown, brings us three terrific items, two which will bring you front and center at poetry events there.
Yours,
Rus
Our links:
IBPC: Poetry & Poets in Rags
Poetry & Poets in Rags Blogspot
IBPC Home
IBPC Newswire
~~~~~~~~~~~
4 comments :
& another item, totally relevant or not, depending on your concept of relevance is A READING IN NEW YORK CITY, KGB BAR, JUNE 1ST, FEATURING THE POET EDWIN TORRES, et al. Proceed to MHR
Hiya, Rus!
from Carol in dementia
Hi Carol,
Great to see you here.
I spent some good time at Mad Hatters' Review this past Sunday. Your current issue is not to be missed, and I had a ball playing with the knobs in Mental Theatre.
Highly recommended. And it turns out you're terrific too.
Yours,
Rus
Well dang, honey, where've you been all my life?
Because you're so adoring and appreciative, the least I can do is to give you a romantic PO EM. Here's most of it. I never print entire unpublished works on blogs, so I'll email you the last bit.
Allergy Season
by Fern Dandylion
Late spring kisses in de breeze
Make de lobers in parks to sneeze.
No. That isn't it.
Here it tis:
Bonjour Buttercup!
You keep awakening in my dreams,
opening up so sudden yellow I startle at your visage.
When we met I had eggs Florentine on my face.
It was over breakfast at the sanatorium in a village near Zurich,
remember? I was visiting my mum discreetly
your betrothed carnation was coughing into his tea,
which (understandably) upset a delicate sprout like you,
who burst into dew.
Mum was beside herself, tossing eggs, in sport, at the end
of her stem,
the poor old horsefly.
I recall the look you gave me, all mirth amongst the prudish gladiolas
in their pots.
It lingers still.
-------- to be continued.
Hi Carol,
Thanks very much for sending these flowers. I love them.
You're great.
I'll bet the reading went very well?
Yours,
Rus
Post a Comment