RAU Poets in the Street at the Putnam Shuck-off

RAU Poets in the Street at the Putnam Shuck-off

Emad, Maggie and myself, aided by Paul Gundy (B&W photos) & TJ LaFollette (color photos), attended the Putnam Shuck-off at the invitation of Carly (Silver Circle owner). We persevered through crowd fear and apathy and ignorance to get a few people to enjoy our wares, and Carly was happy with our effort. We read poetry on the corner, at the tables, in the crowd, in the covered alley, in the art gallery and on the sidewalk. We learned a few invaluable things about street performing, and we learned a few invaluable things about ourselves, as well. Sorry the rest of you couldn't be there, but we had a fantastic day, and a wonderful night reading/writing poetry to ourselves, a canine companion and a tomato-basil pizza.

Poets On The Street

People strolling about, vendor to vendor.
People clustered about, table to table.
People eating and drinking, beer to oysters.
People listening to many musics, jazz to pop.
People mill in two directions, west-east to east-west.
People babbling incessantly loud, blah-blah to blah-blah.

People in numbers too large for three poets
with word and song from heart and soul
to drown out the insanities
of the sane and tame

Wait! What's that?
The road is barricaded!
The police stand close by!
Poets on the street?
Are we sure of what they say?
Do they have wild thoughts?
Yes!
Wild with pain, love, comfort
and rebellion.

Dare I listen, dare I walk away, dare I scream?
"Poets on the street!"

Disheartened, the poets three re-grouped.
Unconquered, the poets three tried again.
Undaunted, the poets three were relentless.

But then, what matters in all of this,
our universe?
What matters?

Three we are and three we will be in all
of this,
so,
what matters?
We three went home to a home that was not home to two
. . .
until now.

Edwin Morgan International Poetry Competition 2009

Edwin Morgan International Poetry Competition 2009

This is a new competition for me, named in honour of Edwin Morgan, Scotland's first national poet: The Scots Makar. The prizes are huge so expect a lot of competition. But who knows? Last year it apparently attracted over 1000 entries.

Vital Synz is pleased to launch the second Edwin Morgan International Poetry Competition in association with our sponsors - Strathclyde University.

Prizes: first prize £5000, then £1000, £500 and £50 (x 2)

Last year's winners and poems are found here.
This year's judges will be the distinguished poet, novelist and playwright, Ron Butlin and the young up and coming poet, Polly Clark.

Deadline: 1st June 2009. Midnight GMT
Maximum of 60 lines per poem
Fee: £5 per poem up to a maximum of 3 poems

The authors of the winning poems must grant the Glasgow Poetry Society the right to use the poems for one year from date of award

Prizewinners will be notified in writing by July 14th 2009.

You can enter online or by post.

Let's Do It!

Ed Ochester Presents a Poem by Robin Becker

(re-posted from The Best American Poetry blog.)

Ed Ochester Presents a Poem by Robin Becker

"Robin is one of the most varied of the poets on the Pitt list in her style and subject matter -- and the foremost feminist poet of her generation. If the word 'feminist' scares you, or calls up some cliché like ‘no sense of humor,’ you should become acquainted with her work. And grow up." —Ed Ochester

THE BATH

I like to watch
your breasts float like two birds
drifting downstream; you like a book,
a glass of wine on the lip
of the porcelain tub,
your music. It is your way of dissolving
the day, merging the elements of your body
with this body. The room fills with steam
like mist off a river—
as intimate to imagine you
pleasuring yourself: watery fingers, slow
movement into fantasy.
You call me in and take my hand
in your wet hand. I have to shield my eyes
from the great light
coming off your body.
When you ask me to touch you
kneel by the water like a blind woman
guided into the river by a friend.

from American Poetry Now $27.95 • 408 pp. © 2007 University of Pittsburgh Press

Also by Robin Becker from the Pitt Poetry Series:

All-American Girl $14.00
Giacometti’s Dog $14.00
The Horse Fair $12.95
Domain of Perfect Affection $14.00

American Poetry Now (ed. Ed Ochester) features poems by Robin Becker and many others from the Pitt Poetry Series.

(re-posted from: http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/booksblog/2009/apr/15/1 )

Should PEN condemn Radovan Karadzic's poetry?

PEN Slovakia has criticised the publication of a poem by Radovan Karadzic but the line between myth-making and lying is a fine one

Comments (1)

A pedestrian takes pictures of posters supporting Radovan Karadzic in downtown Belgrade. Photograph: Andrej Isakovic/AFP/Getty Images

It's tempting to use the news that PEN Slovakia condemned the publication of a poem by Radovan Karadzic to criticise PEN for failing to stick to its principles on freedom of expression: International PEN's statement that "everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression" doesn't sit easily with a PEN centre arguing that a 'poet' shouldn't be published. But to reduce it to a simple censorship versus freedom-of-expression debate does a disservice to PEN's extensive work, and also evades larger questions of what to do about Karadzic's work, and the appeal it still holds to those who see him as a hero.

Although it's worth noting that national PEN Centres are semi-autonomous within the organisation, the action raised uncomfortable questions that are presumably the subject of much internal debate. The last time many saw PEN's name in the news was when Margaret Atwood, vice president of International PEN, pulled out of Dubai's literary festival in February, expressing her dismay at news that a novel with a gay protagonist had been debarred, although she later appeared via videolink to participate in a discussion about censorship.

Do Atwood's actions contradict PEN Slovakia's position on Karadzic's poems? Or, if PEN stands for "the freedom to express ideas without fear of attack or…persecution", does this mean that writers whose work incites persecution of others shouldn't be protected? Perhaps it's not PEN's failure, so much as a larger, collective one, that we're yet to figure out a clear position on hate speech in 'literary' works. Even if we don't agree with PEN Slovakia's decision - and I'm not sure I do - it provides PEN with the chance to further public debate about free speech specifically in relation to hate speech, building on recent discussions in Dubai.

Which leaves the more fundamental question of what to do with Karadzic's poetry. Although few would argue poetry can be used as evidence at The Hague, Karadzic's poetry was part of a larger project of myth-making, like glorifying the 1389 Battle of Kosovo to legitimise claims of Serbian superiority. His poetry is also considered an affront by some because it was still published (or merely republished, the debate goes) even when the Serbian government vowed it was searching for Karadzic: one poem published in 2005 references a remote Montenegrin monastery where Karadzic was rumoured to be hiding. In his poems, Karadzic both rewrites nationalist myths and stitches himself into a mythologised modern history.

One of many sad ironies is how Karadzic's name echoes the 19th century philologist Vuk Karadzic. Vuk's compilation of the first Serbian dictionary and documentation of Balkan stories means he is often hailed as the grandfather of modern Serbian identity, a Balkan Goethe mixed with the brothers Grimm. But his singular life, from his youth in the Serb revolt against the Ottomans, to his involvement in the Illyrian movement, and pan-Slav affinities against the Austro-Hungarian Empire, contains the multitudes of regional identities that Radovan, and other extreme nationalists on all sides, tried to destroy.

And yet, Vuk Karadzic, Radovan Karadzic and many PEN writers do engage in the same ancient act: rewriting myths. A few years ago, aongside writers such as Jeanette Winterson, Margaret Atwood contributed a novel, The Penelopiad, to a publication series on the subject of "myth". Atwood's sensitive reworking of the Odyssey from Penelope's viewpoint was a testament to the vitality of rewriting myth, and particularly its power to reclaim the 'lost' voices of traditional history: wives, handmaidens, servants. Though often dark and haunting, the fiction in the Myth series celebrated myth as a means of resisting life's reduction to (patriarchal? Western?) history-book 'facts'.

Radovan Karadzic's myth-making doesn't contradict this position, but explodes any cosiness there may have been in occupying it, opening the uncomfortable idea that another word for "myth" may be "lie". While Atwood rewrites myths to give voice to the voiceless, other writers hold the power to rewrite myths to silence those weaker than them. Perhaps the point PEN Slovakia raises is to what extent we can distinguish between the two. Recent Balkan history, perhaps more than anywhere, shows the damage myth-making can do, and Radovan Karadzic drew power from his ability to spin poetry, of various sorts, from historical half-truths. Can we celebrate the co-existence of different 'versions' of truth, as the Myth series did, if some writers' versions entail denying other histories, denying other nations, and afterwards denying that systematic persecution took place?

Busted

2009 Julius Sokenu 1st Place Award for R.A.U.

Busted

The cop takes your ID.
The cop takes your keys.
The cop takes your money.
The cop takes your jacket.
The cop takes your wallet.
The cop takes your jewelry.
The cop takes your belt.
The cop takes your top shirt.
The cop takes your shoelaces.
Then the cop takes your shoes.

C'mon, man, leave me my sneakers.

No. Do you want your socks?

Yeah, I ain't goin' in there barefoot.

From in there
is a welling of yelling pooling under the door.
Loud and angry, drunk and drugged, forlorn and obscene.
There's a lot of fear coming from
in there.
Caged and wild, raw and tense, explosive and desperate.

Do you want your pants?

Disbelief!
Eyes meet eyes, a moment.
One pair daring, one pair watching freedoms die,
perusing the endless parade of replicates
behind this particular cop
suffocating the breadth of the world,
so even if rebellion is possible
there would be no end to the fight,
there would be no end to the flight,
there would be no end to the days like this,
there would be no sanctuary,
there would be
only worse . . .
so,
shattered,
believing,
blinking back
a tear of despair
in a sag of shoulders
and briefly bowing head,
a muttered:

Yeah.

Good. Let's go meet your new friends.

The captives hear us approach the door,
there's a jostling for position,
pleas to the cop to get meds
and to use the phone
begin before the door is reached.

On the other side of that door is another universe.
On the other side of that door is everlurking danger.
On the other side of that door is blood.
On the other side of that door is the naked Self.
On the other side of that door is Evil.
On the other side of that door is Submission.

Each step brings more
resigned composure,
back straighter,
shoulders higher,
muscles relaxing . . .
must maintain control . . .
nothing but a thing . . .
time to define a life . . .
it's just another day . . .
I know how it works . . .
I belong . . .
this is home . . .
again
no fear
until nobody's
Here.
Oh.
Please no.

The cop eyes you to stop,
unlocks the door,
opens it,
the decibel level rockets,
the shit stench rolls out
bearhugging the last hopes of freedom into submission.

The cop motions you in.

And with a sighful sigh
a signal from your soul
sends a silence so clear
it's easy to hear
as it fills your ears
. . .
Aw, damn, once more into the breach.

A frenzy of visuals assault the senses.
Shaggy beards, bald heads, tattooed faces, pierced bodies,
dirty, torn, ragged clothing
piss and spit mix with shit and vomit,
testosterone,
crusting
the environment
of steel bars and steel floors and steel slabcots
no padding
steel sinks and steel toilets
no handles
no seats
and cinder block walls
painted steel gray
and chipping with steel violence.

A frenzy of sounds assault the senses.
Guttural, spitting, angry, snarls
tinged with the diarrhea melt of underbelly fright,
questions, demands, pleas, wailings
directed mostly at the cop
pleading with venom . . .
some at the world,
in whipped whimpers . . .
and some at the newjack,
snarling hungrily . . .
who
looks back as if to say
this is no time to play.

A frenzy of feelings assault the senses.
Cold, hard, flat, unforgiving
nowhere any cuddles, any snuggles, any handles
on the razor slices of emotional combat
in a purgatory
where all the exits lead anew to another place,
that's the same place,
here again
to a land of fear where anger is king
and love is life's lost lyric.

A frenzy of smells assault the senses.
Biohazardous, sharp, biting, clawing
permeating the lungs and invading every pore,
rending sanity like bear claws through cheap toilet paper
as each breath is like a sloppy, chunky kiss
with the triple-turned bard of disease . . .
no escape . . .
the smell brings a hiccup of fear
quickly suppressed
but not before peeking,
in the barest mewl of silence,
as a tremor of a glint of a twitch of an eye.

oh mama, no.
I am
home.

Only the cop felt it,
Only the cop smiled.

Okay Grandma . . . what just happened here?

Said the 4 year old,

upon disembarking

into

a completely different place

after his first

cognizant ride

in an elevator.

(cross-posted from http://www.raveneye.org/?p=167 )

Words that Reshape a Country’s Identity

Words that Reshape a Country’s Identity
Kristin Palitza interviews BILLY KAHORA, editor of Kenyan journal Kwani?

Kwani? editor Billy Kahora: 'When a crisis like this happens to a country, you start looking for answers.' Credit: Kristin Palitza/IPS

DURBAN, Mar 11 (IPS) - The goal is ambitious: Kenya’s first literary journal, Kwani?, wants to bring new thinking to the country - and ultimately the continent - and reshape African identities. The journal aims to provoke, create, entertain and develop a literary community that isn’t afraid to question the status quo.

Knowing that the publication of an annual journal might not be enough to bring a new vision to a country, Kwani? banks on regular interaction with the public. It organises two literary events each month - a prose reading series and a poetry open mic evening. Kwani? also runs an annual literature festival that features 40 poets and writers from the continent.

Kwani? was set up in Nairobi by contemporary Kenyan writers, Binyawanga Wainaina and Muthoni Garland in 2003. Its editor, Billy Kahora, launched the journal’s fifth edition this week at the 12th Time of the Writer festival in Durban, South Africa.

IPS: What does Kwani mean?

Billy Kahora: Kwani is a Swahili word and means literally translated ‘so what?’. We chose the name because it indicates a stance, a reaction. It’s our form of rebellion against a country that has unilateral, prescriptive, too-structured ways of doing politics. We want to question the status quo with new, fresh ideas and new thinking.

IPS: Who contributes to Kwani?

BK: Most of our writers, 60 percent to 70 percent, are from Kenya and East Africa, but we also have contributors from Senegal, Nigeria, Zimbabwe, South Africa and the diaspora, especially in the later editions. With every new journal, we include more contributions from different countries on the continent.

Our writers tend to be in their 20s and 30s and are generally interested in expressing themselves in a more modern way that questions political, social and economic structures. They are journalists, writers, photographers, cartoonists and poets. We are a space for new voices.

IPS: Some of the writers published in Kwani? have won or been shortlisted for the prestigious Caine Prize. How do you select your contributors?

BK: We are interested in new expressions, sensibility and making evident what is happening in day-to-day live but which is usually not articulated. We want to entertain, provoke, create. We choose writers who grapple with issues and force us out of our comfort zones.

IPS: What differentiates Kwani? from other African literary journals?

BK: What makes Kwani? different is that we are non-academic and non-institutionalised. While most journals are situated within a university context, we come from an unstructured place, from fiction and social commentary backgrounds. We want to celebrate African stories.

Our aim is to promote East African writers, develop new talent and create a literary community.

IPS: Kwani?’s aim is to open up new socio-cultural and socio-political spaces through literature. How?

BK: We want to re-define what Kenyan day-to-day life is. Usually, socio-political and socio-cultural spaces are defined by government, the media, universities and local constituencies. But that’s not enough. We want to open additional, alternative spaces.

Kwani? is interested in starting a more direct interaction with the public. That’s why we are not only a journal, but we also do readings, organise literature festivals and offer workshops in places that fall out of the ‘official’, such as youth clubs and community centres.

IPS: Do you intend to reshape or revision Kenyan identity?

BK: It’s happening all the time. Narratives in our journals are about unrecognised Africanness - not how it is usually defined by the church, the state, the media and universities. Those institutions see culture and identity in descriptive, one-dimensional ways. Kwani? tries to open this up and represent the rest of society without being prescriptive.

IPS: What are some of the key themes of the journals?

BK: We are interested in investigating the relationship between people and power. Our concern is the image of Kenya and Africa and creating a new political consciousness.

We aim to interrogate Kenya from a post-national space. Who are we? is the question we constantly ask and try to answer in our writing. As a result, Kwani? tends to publish very personal stories about issues of identity, self-discovery, family, crime, ethnicity, poverty and urbanisation.

IPS: The latest Kwani? examines Kenya in the context of the violent aftermath of the 2007 elections. Have these events changed contemporary literature in Kenya?

BK: They haven’t. What Kwani? does is offer a mirror, a new beginning of thinking about society. Concerns of writers are always influenced by the events around them and their writing reflects upon society.

When a crisis like this happens to a country, you start looking for answers. As a result, the journal dealt with the country’s big, current issues, such as unfair distribution of wealth, land and resources.

IPS: You published a mini-Kwani? titled "How to write about Africa?". Have you found an answer to the question?

BK: We asked the question in a satirical way that points a finger to all the books that have been written about Kenya and Africa in the West, based on colonial thinking. The question is meant to indicate that there isn’t one single answer to it. There are many ways to write about Africa, not only they prescriptive, colonial, patronising way.

IPS: Do you believe literature can help bring political and social change?

BK: In Kenya, socio-political conversations usually follow what politicians decide the important issues of the day are. There is too much agenda setting by politicians, to a degree that it is difficult for anyone else to squeeze in a word.

If you write about what ordinary people think and how they live, like Kwani? aims to do, you open up another conversation and that’s important.

IPS: Is Kwani? in search of a new nation?

BK: Because of national state failure in Kenya, people have become sceptical of anything to do with nation building. We want to allow for and start off a debate that enables democracy and creates an economy that everybody can take part in and benefit from.

(END/2009)