Yo, poetry fans. Actually, I'm not in Romania yet -- not until Thursday. But who'd read a post called "Hello from Brooklyn"?
The Ovidius International Poetry Fest, sponsored by the Writers Union of Romania, sounds rockin'. Just look where they're putting us up: Hotel Cocor, Black Sea Coast
First thing, I'm getting a mud bath. And definitely checking out those "sonorous bathroom facilities."
For coincidence fans: the last time I blogged here I posted a thing about the poetry and mythology class I was about to teach at the New School. I'll be teaching that class while at the fest, and in fact I'll be teaching Ovid -- "Calliope's Song" from Metamorphoses -- while I'm in the coastal town where he was exiled (Constanta, then called Tomis). Why was Ovid exiled? In Tristia he writes that it was "carmen et error": a poem and a mistake. Speculation runs that his Ars Amatoria influenced the granddaughter of the emperor Augustus to commit adultery. Those were the days, eh poets?!!
And speaking of Ovid, and 'cause I'm still in Brooklyn, here's an excerpt from my fellow flarfist Rodney Koeneke's poem "Tristia," from his totally excellent Rules for Drinking Forties (Cy Press, 2009):
Go, little book, to her, where I can't enter
and serve as her doorjamb, or bookshelf prop, or coaster
or a clean spot on the floor for her to drop
her T-shirts or negligee (forbidden!), or be that place
where she can indolently tuck her billets-doux
that accumulate, and she pushes them aside irresponsibly
to look at maybe when she gets moderately loaded
on warm fall evenings . . .
Don't tell how I comport myself at orgies
with the stateliness of a dowager, how frequently in love I resemble
a lapsed blog or a model train enthusiast. Speak if you have to just