Reviews and Remembrances from Sympetalous

POETRY REVIEWS WESTERN MASS

So '07's off an' runnin', kinda gettin' warm
in the white hot micro universe of spoken form
and formless poetry it's free an' still early on
an' hence not too late to honor and appreciate
the still shimmering residue of our '06 spin,
a revolution it was around the sun just passed

In addition to the aforeposted and reviewed
(or rather words o' mine that swiftly ensued)
re: the hipster Chris Chandler on 5/02/06
at quaint, funky Oobah's Deli
in old-school down-bound-town
Main Street, Willi-mantic, Conn
~ and ~
the Queen o' Cool, she's La Blue Belle Patricia Smith
on a Brainiac-Black-Smith-Word-Smith College Gig
in Northamp-tone on an 09/28/06 eve...
there were others on which to report,
five of shiny sterling note
still compounding interest
in my confounded memory bank

1/ Patti Smith reads on 2/08/06 at Cooper Union in The Village, NYC
proudly standing at an ancient massive lectern once used by Lincoln to announce
his opposition to slavery in 1859 and later by Twain no doubt wrly musing on the
sadly humorous fall from grace of a clearly unevolved human race, while literally
Mark-ing his territory via salivated tobacco stains still visible these five long
quarter centuries later to Patti, our dear speaker, the feisty, long in the tooth, forever young at a still growing heart warmed by an everpresent fire in the belly
of a beat-nik-chip-monk-punk-poet-shaman sharing her latest penned musings,
these sooth-said so dubbed "Auguries of Innocence", these icy hot & fiery cool incantations on a future still to be "plenty fucked with", miraculously chanted,
carved deep and clean in dark soapstone, then brought down the mountainside
to be cast upon the waters amongst adoring masses masquerading as a precious few dozen, and all as if by divine calling, then soulfully held in sacrosanct retrospect,
the destiny of this sweet pleasured, painfully shy, self-deprecating yet supremely brash and bold jersey word warrior with an uncompromising passion for the ragged
edges of life, and true compassion for the outcast and the downtrodden exceeded
only by her stunning vision of our world as Peaceable Kingdom where the instinctive Artist simultaneously on street, stage & endless galleria blends seemlessly with her
Art as well as an Audience of Clear Light Seekers whose very existence depends on their subtle merging with the various pulsating, luminous creations...

(alright, I didn't get alllll o' that from just one ever so slightly awkward reading...
cuz Hall o' Fame Rocker Patti girl, now thrice score in years, has shaken and stirred
my conscious soul to its uncompromising core for 30 years now, cuz she and I sweet
sister brother nama-stay we're still dancin' bare-foot bein' re-born til dyin' day
headin' most sure enough for a spinnnnn...an' then some strange music draws me in,
makes me come on naturally...like some speara-chewal hero-in(e)))))))

2/ Hugh Ogden reads on 5/04 at Bacon Academy in Colchester, CT
(and then drowns in Rangeley Lake on New Year's Eve)
The straggley long gray maned quixote/coyote rebel marchin' into the maw of hell
on a heavenly cause, twinkling eyes at once at seeming rest and now fully ablaze
fueled by a blend of light, wry, dry wit...and a piece of the deep uncommon wisdom
that would 241 days later barely freeze then draw him gently in and smoothly under...
Now and forever the image of an aging american gothic bard artist as flannel clad
guru slo-mo slip slidin away and between those thin, cool, white sheets... of ice,
the dear lake his eternal bed indeed, perpetually warmed and comforted by the
lofty irony that the Maine waters that Hugh so wholly loved would swallow him whole

3/ Roger Bonair-Agard on 10/25 at Molton Java in Bethel, CT
So Rajah B.A. you rocka my world say
feel like I'm smokin' purpley haired sinse-ay
Hey Roger B.Ar, the Be-All an' End-All
before you were born but af-ter the fall
from grace stilla trace, the only thing that's all
that will be droppin' would be our slackened jaw
from your pure power pipes and those silkychops
yeah, he's Ace, he'smoooooth Roger Bonair-Agard

4/ Martin Espada on 11/02 at RealArtWays in Hartford, CT
Then there's the cooly cerebral sword o'
the Esteemed Professa Marteen Espada
and you just know he was mo' than just riffin' by sorta
pitchin' perfecto while pluggin pure Pablo Neruda
like some newfound Johnny Jumpin Jesus Appleseeder
sowin' fertile mindsouls as would any Buddha feeder

Sadly he seemed a little distant and lacking in the fiery spark that
must have named his and now my "Mayan Astronomer in Hell's Kitchen"
as he generically signed this skinny, steely blue scintillating volume

5/Magpie Ulysses on 11/21 at Reflections Cafe in Providence
Why you brilliant, instinctive, rhythmic, twitching, slightly damaged
slammer, you! workin' both sides of the tracks on the Vancouver docks,
baby's helpin' folks with needle tracks, maybe layin' soulful slammin' tracks
for torn and reborn troubadors and minstrel whores who seemed to slip right
on thru the invisible cracks of amorphous life, a coupla which may've held a
piece o' you after just wriggling past in your adventure travels and travails,
all the while living on the prayerful edge and then surviving therefore
thriving on the Pure Power of the Words and your staggering ability
to mount your special passion and then hump that quivering truth,
conveying climax and sweet release as a rarified free juice for those
fortunate enough to be present and then ready and willing to go deep
within and ride that baby blue wave and catch that violet wind...

and now if she'd only return my e-mails...like she said she would on the
last goddamn page of her book... hey, whuddup with that?

Poetry Reviews by Twilite

POETRY REVIEWS WESTERN MASS

"The Best American Poetry 2006"
Guest Editor - Billy Collins
Series Editor - David Lehman
Publisher: Scribners, 2006

Safe, predictable sampling of so-called high quality poetry for the masses.
Rounds up all of the usual suspects and a few annoited successors. As even and
flat as a frozen pond. For all of his vaunted wit, Collins choices are
relentlessly limited. No, it's not terrible, just disappointing and lacking in
grit or soul. I like my poetry a little unwashed, and with a very few
exceptions, this tweed wearing collection failed to deliver. Poetry by MFA's
for MFA's. It's exactly what you'd expect. Twilite's rating: 6.5

Editor's Note: Being in an MFA program, I beg to differ on the point that MFA's only like "tweed wearing" poetry. We have hip-hop,slam, beat, cowboy and biker poets in my program, who have more of the "unwashed" style that our esteemed reviewer prefers, and he knows it! - Lori
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Slate Roof Press, Group Reading, March 7, 2007
Forbes Library

Slate Roof Press is a group from Franklin county that formed a small member press to produce chapbooks. They were all good readers, and the books were all nicely done. Trish Crapo, what a great name for a poet but it's pronounced "cray-poe" (too bad), had a couple of good poems, especially one called "Salt", though I thought she played it a little safe. Susan Middleton has a descriptive style, wonderfully rich and vivid, but I got the feeling I was looking at one of those super-realist paintings that are so popular now. Art Stein had some good poems, and he was heavily into the Japanese formulaic (he was good at it, though) and his stuff had a sensuous feel. My favorite was Jim Bell, who's style was economical and clean and surprisingly effective and evocative. I found his poetry to be the most interesting and unique of the evening. I thought the weakest poet was Susan (Pupello?, I didn't quite catch the name), though in no way was she bad. One of her poems was about her first sexual experience. It was a little detached, like sex with a statue, (though she did use an unflattering and interesting image of her father's equipment, comparing it to the "brown pipes behind the john" and even emphasized it with an editorial comment, "it's true") I didn't even get a twinge. All in all it was not an unpleasant evening, but a little staid and subdued, and the crowd was pretty old, am I getting that old? I talked to some of the poets afterwards but I got the feeling it was a little insular.
Twilite's rating - 7.9

Poetry and Book Reviews by Twilite

Poetry Reading - Smith College - March 13
Kimiko Hahn

Hanh's softspoken nature and petite size belie a monster, a poetry death reaper with unblinking eyes and an obsessive heart. She lightened up a poem about moms who kill their babies with one about premature burial. She had me, that's for sure. She gave me hope for the hopeless and soulless world of academic poetry. Poe's got nuthin' on her. Nuthin' !

Twilite's rating - 8.7

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Poetry Reading - Smith College - Feb 26
Sarah Manguso and Kevin Prufer
Here is my two word review; Sarah Manguso - smug, Kevin Prufer - pretentious.
Honestly, Manguso had some interesting ideas and images, but her delivery was like watching the wallpaper peel. You really had to experience it to believe it. It was like she was Vulcan or something. This chick was way too smart for her own good! I wanted to pull back her hair and check her ears. In contrast, Prufer was animated. His command of English and references to Roman history and mythology were duly impressive. He delivered his self satisfied, intellectual tripe with the conviction that he was the most gifted wit of his generation. This guy was so in love with himself that he actually giggled with glee at his own cleverness. Wow! The best thing about this reading was that it was really short, (only about 30 minutes total) and the beer sure tasted fine afterwards. Twilite's rating - 6.5-
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Eggless Wisdom, poetry by Susan Cordelli Botfield
Chapbook printed by Adasha Press, Easthampton, 1996
Unique, way too personal, death poems about cancer and pussy.
Not great poetry, but what a subject. I read it twice because it was short.
Give me this stuff over the contrived academic crap any day - at least it's got a soul.
Twilite's rating - 7.4
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Babylan - An Anthology of Filipina and Filipina American Writers
Editors: Nick Carbo and Eileen Tabios
Publisher - Aunt Lute Books, 2000
Sometimes anthologies are dismal dumps of carefully selected horseshit, but not this one! Half poetry/half prose, it sings from the diaphragm like some mythological beast. Deep, deep throaty expressions of passion and heat. Maybe too deep, but who cares? The prose was especially sensuous, the poetry especially delicious.
Twilite's rating - 8.5
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Sailing Alone Around The Room, New and Selected Poems
by Billy Collins Publisher - Random House Trade Paperbacks, 2002
Collins is the ridiculously popular master of a certain kind of poetry that appeals to the NPR set. Perfectly crafted, mildly amusing, and with just enough depth to fool the average egghead, Collins prances on, laughing all the way to the bank. I'm sorry, I don't get the attraction. Maybe I'm jealous. Maybe it's Fleetwood Mac, or the Beatles, but it sure the hell ain't Bob Marley or Johnny Cash.
Twilite's rating - 7.1
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African-American Poetry, An Anthology 1773-1927
Editor - Joan R. Sherman
Publisher - Dover Thrift Editions, 1997
This little volume offers deliverance and merits further research.
Uneven, brilliant, dusky jewels that sparkle or fall into the dirt and melt.
Check out "De Cunjah Man" by James Edwin Campbell, or "Wish for an Overcoat"
by Alfred Islay Walden, or "Her Lips Are Copper Wire" an absolutely amazing poem
by Jean Toomer. Also includes such favorites as Paul Laurence Dunbar and
Langston Hughes. Thank you, Lawd!!!
Twilite's rating - 8.2