Dear bleaders,
I have been acting up again, for your amusement.
Check out the
Poetry Brothel in the New York PostThat's me with the glasses and my husband next to me, the others are really great young poets who are part of the Poetry Brothel (my husband is mc). We're mostly all connected to the New School, a bunch of them were students of mine when they got their MFAs there. There is some amazing talent here.
In this photo the stunning and bold:
The Madame (aka Stephanie Berger)
Tennessee Pink (a k a Nicholas Adamski)
The Car Sargasso (aka Christie Ann Reynolds)
Oola Waistbinder (aka Sarah Autumn Feeley)
Le Petite Mort (aka Joey Cannizzaro)
The Emcee, John Chaneski
(Car is on the floor, Tennessee has the eye-patch, the Madame is the darling redhead in the middle, you can guess the rest from this) Several poetry whores are missing from the shot, but I am holding a book by one of them, the brilliant Amy Lawless. That's her real name, I can't remember her pw name right now.
It's so cool, and nuts. I love it. I also enjoy that all the books in the shot are mine, my poetry and my philosophy/history books, except I'm holding a friend's poetry book. Anyway, I love the shot, and the others at the site.
Also, this
little video is delightful. I'm at the start and the finish and, admittedly, a bit dramatic. It's really a nicely done little piece. I can't stop grinning and biting my lip at it.
See folks, all you have to do to get people interested in poetry is shake it a little.
love,
Jennifer
JenniferMichaelHecht.com
Could you identify the others in the picture? And whose book are you holding? Everyone looks so hot!
Posted by: Stacey | April 30, 2009 at 10:19 AM
Amy Lawless's brothel name is Ursula Giovanna de Gassion. Here's a little bit about her, from her bio: Ursula Giovanna de Gassion, a pale, devastated whore, was born in Paris, was orphaned at an early age. She grew up on the streets and as soon as she reached her teen years, she became a heartbreaker. Every one of Ursula's lovers has committed suicide. This sounds unlikely but it's true. Ursula has a penchant for looking off in the distance and sighing a lot. She would never approach you with verses. Lately, she's been afraid of getting close to anyone because she fears that being her lover might be the last thing you'll ever do.
Ms. Gassion is terribly addicted to absinthe and has only become more of a mess since joining the poetry brothel.
You'll think she's too reliable or straight for this business but will then disappear hungover from too much sauce for three maybe four days. When she returns to the Madame, she is hungrier than the others. Ursula hates to be alone. The clients like her sadness because they think that maybe they can tear her out of this place. But the truth is, this is her home. Ursula loves magic. This nihilistic girl can usually found near her Ouija board…or the bar.
Posted by: nick | May 03, 2009 at 03:01 PM
I'm taking a week long trip in a couple of days and I would love to experience as much as the city as possible. I'm interested in shows, comedy clubs, plays, poetry readings, etc. Anything you can tell me with as much detail as possible is very much appreciated.
Posted by: generic viagra | March 12, 2010 at 10:30 AM
To My Teacher
A red brick school
stands quietly on the hill
and I am reminded of my teacher
that kind, gentle man
who stood me in the corner
and walloped me with a stick
for writing verse during algebra
"a no account weasel,"
you would scream
long time, no see
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | February 02, 2022 at 12:20 PM
Almond Girl
dark almond eyes
peer lifeless as shells
or partitions spread for sleep
and sometimes there is an intrigue
within those settings,
something like suspicion
that is not dramatic
but glazed skin
like a honey
that is warm in winter
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | February 19, 2022 at 10:40 AM
The Tutor
it's a quiet day
we spend in the april sun
I see there is much
for you to know
watching you daydream wondering
if the blue sky
isn't better for you
than Keats or Byron
in the silence of a study
musing immortality
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | February 20, 2022 at 02:56 PM
Bamboo
a white moon
stalks the deer
I prey
through a winter forest
the light streams
through bamboo that is too long
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | February 23, 2022 at 06:35 PM
After The Wedding
yesterday
I found a picture
of the two of you
standing next to your car
after the wedding
so young
and certain
and full of promise
did you suspect
that he would leave us
in the city?
the haze
the ash
the tentative smile
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | March 02, 2022 at 02:29 PM
Sea Beans
the morning sun
casts a shadow
over the silent hut
of the beachcomber
dreams of lions
and sea beans
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | March 05, 2022 at 12:36 PM
Subtle Rhyme
the clouds that shroud
a solitary moon
are my confusion
crimson skies above the bay,
I fear,
are my demise
stars that light
are called nothing more than light,
glisten the waters
that end a subtle rhyme
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | March 11, 2022 at 11:33 AM
Hollow Watcher
december nights chill
the fencepost
hangs
a hollow watcher
stirs my breath,
a white eye
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | May 09, 2022 at 11:03 AM
Projector 1921
black box clacking
gears and sprockets
that rattle
that move too fast
(scratched film)
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | May 17, 2022 at 05:38 PM
Watts
drunken gunshots echoed near the church,
there was no moon to drive us mad
walking past rows of houses,
peeling paint and broken streetlamps
smooth stones
thrown in anger cracked blue windows,
stained glass images scattered on the floor
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | May 18, 2022 at 01:35 PM
Night Vision
After our story
I watch a young girl,
with my eyes,
dream of silver horses
wind chimes tinkling
or turning slowly
a mirrored carousel
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | June 17, 2022 at 12:55 PM
Literature
I practice praying while he snores in my ear.
His sighs are my cheat code. God must have
a soft spot for me. I'm not dead yet. I perfect
my amen to close out future prayers. I nudge
him to roll on his side & soften his breathing.
He reaches out to hold me without opening
an eye. Thank you God, amen, I whisper. How
can I claim God doesn't listen to sinners?
How else could I get such a blessing?
-Raych Jackson
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | June 19, 2022 at 03:16 PM
Silent Kitchen
moonlight and an autumn wind
unfurl the curtain lace
in a silent kitchen
the cat creeps slowly along the shelf
a single candle wavers
shadow through the crystal,
soundless figures dancing on the wall
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | October 15, 2022 at 06:27 PM
As You Leave Me
Shiny record albums scattered over
the living room floor, reflecting light
from the lamp, sharp reflections that hurt
my eyes as I watch you, squatting among the platters,
the beer foam making mustaches on your lips.
-Etheridge Knight
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | October 17, 2022 at 01:46 PM
A Girl
with big breasts
under a blue sweater
crosses the street
reading a newspaper-
stops, turns,
and looks down
like she had seen
a dime on the pavement
-William Carlos Williams
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | October 18, 2022 at 12:40 PM
Empty Classrooms
empty classrooms
preserved like tombs,
dust collected on the desks
that time is my demise,
I know,
but even so
(I am having a great time hanging out with my heroes.)
Posted by: Vincent Canizaros | October 19, 2022 at 03:14 PM
Of Robert Frost
There is a little lightning in his eyes.
Iron in the mouth.
His brows ride neither too far up nor down.
He is splendid. With a place to stand.
Some glowing in the common blood.
Some specialness within.
-Gwen Brooks
"We are each other's harvest; we are each other's business;
we are each other's magnitude and bond."
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | October 19, 2022 at 04:05 PM
Wings
shoulder blades
sticking out as if they
wanted to grow wings through
that skin.
little blades, she was helpless.
-Charles Bukowski
"We don't even ask happiness, just a little less pain."
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | October 21, 2022 at 10:49 AM
Fog
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
-Carl Sandburg
"The secret of happiness is to admire without desiring."
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | October 22, 2022 at 02:58 PM
Open Windows
We would be together
and have our books
and at night
be warm together
with the windows open
and the stars bright.
-Ernest Hemingway
"All you have to write is one true sentence."
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | October 23, 2022 at 02:53 PM
August
When the blackberries hang
swollen in the woods, in the brambles
nobody owns,
I spend
all day among the high
branches, reaching
my ripped arms, thinking
of nothing, cramming
the black honey of summer
into my mouth; all day my body
accepts what it is. In the dark
creeks that run by there is
this thick paw of my life darting among
the black bells, the leaves; there is
this happy tongue.
-Mary Oliver
"Love yourself. Then forget it. Then, love the world."
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | October 23, 2022 at 08:01 PM
I'm Nobody
I'm nobody. Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then, there's a pair of us.
Don't tell, they'd advertise, you know
How dreary to be someone,
How public, like a frog.
To tell one's name the livelong day
To an admiring bog.
-Emily Dickinson
(Thanks to William Luce and Ginger Grace for 'The Belle of Amherst')
Posted by: Vincent Canizaro | October 24, 2022 at 11:50 AM