Photo: Ellen singing about bedbugs.
So what was it all about? More than 40 people, 21 poets 2 singers, one pickpocket. The pickpocket went through my jacket pockets but did not steal my biography of Rimbaud. No one got robbed. Got a good look at him though.
So what was it all about? Furniture.
Michael says a renter’s gotta pay the rent. Rufo knows less than he used to, says to head nowhere special, hopes to uncouple hope from desire, his radio tuned to nothing. Genio était comdamné à rester au lit. Ton absence s’empechait de dormir. Une nuit foutu. Michele produced odes to sex in the Bottleshop, to Guantanamo, to Belleville. Suzanne missed the metro, following Colette in the middle of the night. Chase took the biological function of a flower & singed the epidermis of my soul. ”I want whipped cream with my slice of sky.” Ellen sang Baby’s Got Bedbugs but that maybe because she’s a Difficult Woman. Leemore dragged in a crib and a bedframe for some quiet apprehensive love. Christopher was curious about a box. Stephanos set fire to his couch. Sally visited the Taj Mahal asleep and rose with Maya Angelou. Pour Jaco, tous ça c’est humain. À chacun son opium. Devant sa fenêtre le monde est pété. Didier a fait un réprise de Baudelaire. Lux, Calme et Volupté. Edward dipped into his world of furniture vocabulary, encountered Grindling Gibbon and furnished his mind. Thanks also to others who read or sang. Erica has gigs coming up I’ll let you know about.
Thanks all for coming. By popular vote we’re moving to an earlier time for the next one.