SpokenWord Paris

Great night ladies and gentlemans, I do think so,

we started with Dylan Harris reading his poem The Player from his book Antwerp,

David reading a poem by Alexander Maksik from Issue Zero Magazine, now on sale:

yesterday at the pharmacy

a tall man in beard trembling

paying says, Jesus Christ it is

cheaper just to die.

Benjamin reading the Grave of Shelley by Oscar Wilde:

Like burnt-out torches by a sick man’s bed

Gaunt cypress-treesstand round the sun-bleached stone;

here doth the little night-owl make her throne,

and the slight lizard show his jewelled head….

Anthony singing:

Have you ever loved?

Have you ever loved and lost?

Have you ever loved and lost and worked on a ferry-boat?

Of course. Moe Seager, Yara and Stefanos, Alberto Rigettini.

Eleanor (on stage singing) and Katherine (almost strict judges),

Chris and Benjamin, Anthony, Zine, Nina Karacosta reading “My Cities”

un morceau of her forthcoming readings:

http://www.wice-paris.org/wice/events-with-upstairs-at-duroc?19de6d321fb1038835cca5f16bb4a662=2c0b83c6512fb206e39dfd1850a46632

Moe supporting tunisian poets, then James:

Words are bollocks: shit, piss, fuck….cunt.

Words get attention.

Indeed. Julie Anne’s perfect slam style, Ariel and Emily banjoing and singing:

I love you for your money

For what money can do

You know what is funny

They think I love you for you

Or that’s how I remember it.

I remember then Tyler and the Jazzy end: Dumb Ego’s night in Tunisia:

http://www.myspace.com/dumbego/music/songs/Night-in-Tunisia-78849956

For many more tunisian and bellevillian poetic nights, come on monday at Culture Rapide!

…Alberto

The mailman was lost on route. Atlanta stood aghast. The ceiling fan was lit and William wanted to be buried in a sandcastle. Anna saw the man on the Staten Island ferry dancing for dimes. Anton channelled William Service, “The Man Who Knows.” Lynn Jeffries picked up the pieces. And Ariel banjo’ed us.

Ariel went to Peru. Georgina was stuck with the voice in her head, some kind of tribute to frat boys. John brought a message from Sting. Jena stands up in dark places. Angel talked about Pancho Villa and La Cucaracha. Moe riffed on jazz. Mandoline brought kindness as a verb. A mountain sliver leaned back into the ocean. Beth’s silence lingers like…

A Report:

Marie Davis, second from left, author in the upcoming anthology Strangers in Paris, and cartoonist, surrounded by pretty girls. Leaning back against the wall of the Cabaret Pop and taking it all in….With Marie, Margaret and The Sirens all blown in from Kentucky, and Bruce being kind of from there too, it was unofficial Kentucky night at SpokenWord. In this pic, Michele rests against the windows, recovering after Alberto (3rd from left) came in to report we had a poet down… Margaret (2nd from left) sang Summertime. Not the first time she’s been to Paris – she’s hitched all round Europe before…

The Sirens http://sirensinthewoods.com/ ”He can’t have what I don’t give up…”
Back from Athens, Stefanos with his wild & beautiful Bob Dylan hair… and Yara, performing Amberblind, ”a naughty little song by Stefanos.” Great to have some songs, it’s been a while since we had so much music.
To give you a flavour of what else went on: Benjamin knew well what he was fleeing from: Istanbul – the trains smell of damp sweat and sugared tea. Troy (reading at Poets Live this Tuesday) had a dim light growing between his legs, spin cap bottle boy. Marie read a story about a candy loving lesbian, Bourbon balls and girls. Beth reckoned holding the stars might wash your aura clean. Bruce’s canvas drank them in, Art is his itch. He put the brutality down on paper. Max shaved off his beard, combed his hair. What clearer sign of the End Times could there be?Matt was a pilgrim of sorrow. So Ed spelt it out for us wordy fuckers, balanced directly between soul and sky: it’s the slow explosion of trees…