SpokenWord Paris

By David
Photos by Marie De Lutz

Shane, last seen somewhere near the Bois de Vincennes.

Round 1:

Dareka spoke the language of asteroids. He co-hosts the poetry night at the Downtown, 46 rue Jean-Pierre Timbaud, Mondays – check it out, it’s like a parallel universe in which we’re all French).Benjamin brought us the planet of the flakes. The comedy sketches show he’s in is on this Wednesday at the Petit Theatre du Bonheure, (info here). Melanie: the glowing butter brilliance of the waxing moon. Pablo… drags your body into a bathful of ink. David (me!): heart is slow, heart is quick. Pat Cash was full of demons, dawn, gods… Celine: no bit can keep her tongue quiet. Apparently this was a response to me asking her previously ”What do you do with your tongue when you’re not using it?” Kate: archery and silicon; revealing the past is dangerous. Continue reading →

Report by Alberto

Report by Alberto.

There were gasps and groans from the audience as Shane recounted cocoons being laid in his pubic hair. Helen read from her tale of an attempted poisoning. David Fishel ate near 50 pancakes to win a bet for his grandad. At first Lucy Hopkins was afraid, she was petrified. Jessamyn started smoking again; everythign looks like carnage in this country. I can’t sleep without your warmth.
Emily’s eyes roared with light. Alberto was investigated for child porn and won his case when accused of horse fucking. (Wtf! Where does this stuff come from? Sometimes I read over these notes and it’s like seeing icebergs loom out of the mist of my beery amnesia and settle back into reality.) Jason translated violence from Naples.

Round 2:
Lucy Gellman was there “…and someone to bake it with.” Moe was stealing back his life. Ben thought of others, a candle in the darkness. Lucile was left standing godless. Edward saw the rain full of ghosts. Constanza    read e.e.cummings’
THERE ARE SO MANY TICTOC
By e. e. cummings

there are so many tictoc
clocks everywhere telling people 
what toctic time it is for 
tictic instance five toc minutes toc 
past six tic 

Spring is not regulated and does 
not get out of order nor do 
its hands a little jerking move 
over numbers slowly 

we do not 
wind it up it has no weights 
springs wheels inside of 
its slender self no indeed dear 
nothing of the kind. 

(So,when kiss Spring comes 
we’ll kiss each kiss other on kiss the kiss 
lips because tic clocks toc don’t make 
a toctic difference 
to kisskiss you and to 
kiss me)

And then it was almost over. Caroline filled the empty space with flowers. And Evan brought us news from the internet wars – Porn vs Cats – which you can listen to here 

Next SpokenWord tonight, and every Monday, au Chat Noir.
Cheers,
David

                                         Pansy: we splayed kiss marks all over the room.

Jessanyn: perhaps you thought no harm in letting her pretend. Louisa’s Christmas: Cats fucking interrupt our morning. Emily’s sex positions. Alberto’s May 2: Obama vs Osama. Griffin: “I am every gay-child who’s been told you better off dead.”

                                         Melissa playing the piano during the break.

 

Shane the nature poem of Saint Hook (or another Saint?), Fatima’s tick tock 52 weeks in a year

is my life measured by a laughter from ear to ear? Gina Bonati’s song: Don’t be so merciful, Don’t be too kind, I’m so used to this. Gabriel: What do you have to say now Prometheus? Tino’s singing it’s not about my monkey it’s about me and my pussy. Bruce’s exact change on the bus driver’s mind. Lucille introducing Scarecrow Collective number 3. Buy it at Spoken Word for Euro 1.50. Alex’s Baudelaire: Les gents se figurent l’ivresse comment un pays prodigieux. Ferdia and Shane and the new superhero: Man-man, half man, half man. Finally Beatrice brought flowers for David Barnes.

                                                 

                                          David Barnum looking into the future.

                                                       Margaux’s human Sculpture. 

 Shaping the Poem. From Completion to Publication. “How do we shape a poem so that it shimmers with meaning?.” We’ll discuss how to make our work the best it can be, with attention to communication and publication. Kathleen’s clients write their heads off, publish widely in all genres and win major prizes and top awards. You will too!   http://pariswritersworkshop.org

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bio, Kathleen Spivack

Kathleen Spivack’s memoir With Robert Lowell and His Circle: Plath, Sexton, Bishop, Rich, Kunitz will be published in 2012 by University Press of New England. A student and friend of poet Robert Lowell, Kathleen Spivack has written about the poets of his time, notably Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, Elizabeth Bishop, Stanley Kunitz and others who took her under their wing, with a focus on how they approached their work.

She is the author of seven previous books of prose and poetry (Doubleday, Graywolf, etc), has published in over 300 magazines and anthologies,  and received numerous awards. Named “Best Writing Coach” by the NWU, Kathleen teaches in Paris and Boston.

by David.
Photos by Marie De Lutz

It was Shakespeare’s Death Day. And somebody’s birthday too, who could it be? Oh yes, me! Unsex me now!cried Kate, filled to the top with direst cruelty. “You’re not drunk – the floor’s just moving,” responded James. Alberto took arms against a sea of English grammar. Jason filled the breach with English dead, which may be ‘cos he doesn’t like the English or may be because he was out to antagonise the French against us. Troy responded to Jason with words from Cassius. And then, and then… I’ll come to more non-Shakespearean stuff in a sec but first – the witches! Check out the witches, fresh from Tesco:

Glam rock witch

Scots witch, Glam rock witch & French Resistance witch… just back from Tesco to cook up something wicked

How cool is that!
Some other fragments:
Shane’s nomad conversing with a dead dolphin. Pablo’s panic attack. Melanie skipped a step when she should have said “Fuck you!” Moe leaned into the afternoon. Sonny Shula sang. Ferdia with a deleted scene from Hamlet. Gina: Life as a whore. Antonia: