Posts Tagged ‘Spoken Word’
Starting a busy, busy day, it’s got to be one of the quickest story acceptances for me thus far! The story, a reprint originally published in IT’S COME TO OUR ATTENTION (Third Flatiron Publishing, Spring 2016): “Chocolat.” Submitted this time at about 10 p.m. last night, the e-word came only about two hours later judging by the time signatures, even if only read by me early this afternoon: I am happy to include your story in the anthology. . . . Attached is a preview with your work in it.
The call was for conspiracy themed fiction and poetry for consideration, from Alien Buddha Press, publishers also of my AVOID SEEING A MOUSE collection. The anthology is to be titled THEY’RE CONSPIRING AGAINST THE ALIEN BUDDHA TOO! — and, for those interested, continuing to read submissions until the end of June — with a hoped for launch date of Independence Day, July 4. (Yes, they do a fast job of not just deciding on which stories to use, but also bringing the book into print.)
And then tonight, along with going over the story proof, and okaying it with one minor correction, tonight was Bloomington Writers Guild “Second Thursday Spoken Word Series” night (see May 9, April 11, et al.), with three featured poets, Jason L. Ammerman, the Writers Guild’s own Tony Brewer, and Joseph Kerschbaum, who up until 2024 — after Ammerman’s December 2022 diagnosis of having come down with Stage IV Colon Cancer (though still on his feet, at least for now!) — had often performed readings together as “the Reservoir Dogwoods.” And also back in the MC spot, recovering from an accident that had had her out of action for Guild events for some time, was Spoken Word Series co-producer (with Tony Brewer) Joan Hawkins.
Ammerman, who had originally formed the Dogwoods group even if they were doing solo gigs this time, a poet since 1989 with three published books as well as leading innumerable poetry readings and slams in the Indianapolis area in the late 1990s and early 2000s, plus with the Dogwoods through their final March 2024 show, a charity performance for “Man Up to Cancer” — an organization for males who are fighting or have fought cancer — led off with what he called “small stuff,” but were actually three longish poems touching on such things as earthquakes, ghosts, and the meaning of motherhood, along with details of the stories behind them. He was followed by poet and audio artist as well as executive director of the Spoken Word Stage at Bloomington’s annual 4th Street Festival of the Arts and Crafts, and with twelve books and chapbooks under his belt, Brewer, with two “guest” poems, one by Beat poet Ruth Weiss and a second by a poet he’d recently worked with designing a chapbook for it and printing it on a vintage letterpress, followed by a flurry of shorter poems of his own on a number of subjects, as well as brief explanations. Then Kerschbaum, another Bloomington poet with his most recent publications including MIRROR BOX (Main Street Rag Press, 2020), DISTANT SHORES OF A SPLIT SECOND (Louisiana Literature Press, 2018), and MIDNIGHT SUNRISE just out from Main Street Rag Press, came third with about a dozen poems of varying length, some very short (notably the one he opened with, titled “My Sex Life”), including a small clutch toward the end as if by Mattel doll Barbie’s “Ken.”
Music both at the beginning and just before the break, as well as at the close, was by trumpeter Kyle Quass and percussionist Julian Douglas, who’ve worked together some twenty years, as well as performing in many different ensembles, co-led several bands, and worked on multiple recording projects, these latter including Quass’s FRACTURED and Douglas’s TALAFAWA. Then, after the break, it was time for the “open mic” portion of which I came fourth of nine walk-on readers. And for which, it being itself only some 500 words long, the story I chose to present was . . . “Chocolat.”
Due to the untimely passing of RYDER founder and director Peter LoPilato, the time for a planned April Poetry Issue had come and gone, though there still is some hope for a near-future revival. But poetry is an impatient mistress, and so the May Bloomington Writers Guild “Second Thursday Spoken Word” (cf. April 11, et al.), dedicated to Peter LoPilato’s memory, was set to be a festival of the poems that were to have appeared in that issue.
Thus deviating from the usual pattern, after opening music by neighboring Brown County singer/guitarist Chris Barth, MC Tony Brewer read an introducing piece about Peter LoPilato, then, explaining that perhaps a better event description would be “a sampling of pieces that were to be in THE RYDER,” several poets being from out of town or otherwise unavailable to read that night, we heard the first of two groupings of poets. Then came another musical interlude/intermission, after which those of the second group read for a total of about twenty presentations in all, to an audience of around the same number, followed by a final musical selection.
For myself, I was in the second grouping, third poet from the end, with a single poem (as was the case for a majority of the other poets as well). Starting with a brief explanation of the nature of what I’d be reading, a poem informed by an at the time popular group of early twentieth century poems called “Little Willies” (see also February 20), I concluded with an 18-line entry about the Christmas gift of a chemistry set, “Scientific Method,” “hopefully informed by the spirit” of the example I’d just read.
My return, that is, having had a scheduling conflict last month and missing the June Bloomington Writers Guild’s First Wednesday Spoken Word (cf. May 3, et al.). But this month I was back! And I shared in an especially enjoyable July 5 session at Backspace Gallery downtown.
And that’s even including the sudden rainstorm that trapped us inside for an extra fifteen or so minutes after.
But back to the event, the musical interludes featured guitarist Jason Fickel who introduced us to several distinct styles — e.g. slide guitar, steel guitar, blues. . . — bracketing poet Terry Sloan with sometimes science-based, philosophical, witty, often satirical pieces (as an example, one crowd-favorite titled “On the Failed Attempt of Evil Knieval to Leap the Yawning Chasm of Non-Existence”), accompanied by projected collage/illustrations by Jon Vickers (perhaps best known locally as founding director of the IU Cinema), and followed by writer, director, and audio producer Brian Price with excerpts from two recent books (“of short fiction, monologues, and poetry,” to quote the blurb), THE WRONG SIDE OF THE RIVER AND OTHER POINTS OF INTEREST (2022) and THE OLD CART WRANGLER, THE NEW SILENCE, AND OTHER NOTIONS (2020).
Then, after a break, came the “Open Mic” section with four walk-on readers of which I was second, continuing my five-part “Casket Suite” tale sequence on the New Orleanian filles à les caissettes who brought vampirism to the New World. Tonight’s was part three, “Reflections,” in which the glamor girl of the group, Lo, explains why the superstition that vampires can’t see themselves in mirrors is, of necessity, false.
The Bloomington Writers Guild’s First Wednesday Spoken Word usurped for a “RYDER MAGAZINE Poetry Issue Showcase” (cf. April 18, February 28)? Well, not really insofar as reading poetry comes legitimately under the “spoken word.” And it could be all poetry for other reasons too, e.g. that on a particular Wednesday poetry was all they got.
But this is special. And if celebrations end up translating to more readers for the magazine (hint: To see an electronic edition press here, but paper copies are free as well at various kiosks locally), why not? The more the better. And for the poets, also, it’s one more opportunity to introduce one’s work to the public.
And so, okay, I’ve got work in THE RYDER too — three poems in total: “Existential Vamp” (the philosophic), “Let’s All Go to the Movies” (nostalgic), and “Last, Shoemaker Stick To” (surreal). So I, too, was in line in what functionally was a giant-size “open mic,” only lacking a formal, invited readers session first. Or maybe, rather, the “price” being no more than having poems there, we were all invited.
Or maybe who cares? A lot of us read to, at a tad over thirty attendees at peak, a reasonably hefty crowd at downtown Bloomington’s Backspace Gallery and that may be celebration enough!
jamesdorrwriter 