This is what I was afraid of:
This paper this thought lines
dividing white space lines dividing
nothing.
This exhaustion this futility
this game or promise.
Grace Paley (1922-2007), a short story writer, poet and activist, was New York’s first official state author and later poet laureate of Vermont. Paley’s “Collected Stories” (1994) was a finalist for both the Pulitzer Prize and National Book Award. This rare edition of HoCoPoLitSo’s The Writing Life was videotaped at Howard Community College, October 1988.
Twenty years ago
it was believed that the roots of trees
would insert themselves into gas lines
then fall poisoned on houses and children
When Grace Paley visits New York, she stays in her old apartment on West Eleventh Street. Her block has for the most part escaped the gentrification that has transformed the West Village since Paley moved there in the forties. The building where Paley lived for most of her adult life and w…
Friday, June 1, 1979
with Ted Berrigan
Wednesday, March 20, 2002
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
with Anselm Hollo
I don’t mind Walt Whitman’s saying”I contain multitudes,” in fact I like it,
but all I can imagine myself saying is
“I contain a sandwich and some coffee and a throb.”
Vintage poster of Ted Berrigan and Ron Padgett giving a poetry reading at the Poetry Center of Chicago.
Audio recording of the Poetry Center Reading Series featuring Billy Collins, Andrei Codrescu, Ron Padgett, Lucille Clifton, Mark Perlberg, Li-Young Lee, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Anne Waldman, Yusuf Komunyakaa, Lisel Mueller, Ted Kooser, Paul Carroll, Jorie Graham, and Paul Hoover.
Listen to Ladan Osman, with Amira Hanafi, read for the Chicago Poetry Center:
I can’t tell why I think the dried corncobs
in the gravel and the mattress under the tree
were not put here by children who bite so fast
they leave rows of kernels.
Friday, April 18, 1975
An Homage to Frank O’Hara
Friday, November 30, 1984
with Paul Carroll
What I lose you let me, accusation
always gets one in. But I want to talk like the dead
remember that town where we went or
how do I know when I’m just a soul – not
when I’m leading?
The Renaissance Society and Poem Present co-presented this reading by Alice Notley on November 17, 2011. Notley has published over 25 books of poetry, including Grave of Light: New and Selected Poems 1970-2005 (2006), awarded the Lenore Marhsall Poetry Prize; Disobedience (2001), awarded the Griffin International Poetry Prize; Mysteries of a Small House (1998); The Descent of Alette (1996); Close to me & Closer .
An old woman of indeterminate race, in white hat
and scarf, no teeth staring back at me.
He sounded brittle and superior last night, do the
dead do that; Grandma had a plethora of tones of voice
compared to anyone in this anthology…
I’ve done some heavy lifting
And flexed my abs against the absolute
On the monastery farm
I’ve tried and tried the treadmill of the true
But it’s as nothing, schoolmarm,
To what I’ve tried with you
I ran into Miss Adventure
At the Bluebird Cafe
I pressed myself upon her
She kinda gave way
I said I’m racked with guilt
For having made so free
She gave her head a tilt
She said don’t you see
Paul Muldoon was born in County Armagh, in Northern Ireland, in 1951. He is the eldest of three children. His mother was a primary schoolteacher and his father held many jobs, including mushroom cultivator. Muldoon attended Queen’s University from 1969 to 1973, and remained in Belfas…
In this mouth I gather darkness, an aria,
rosewater tongue, tympanic bone,
a poem more quiet than quietness,
a bronze song, something undone, salvia,
a crushed butterfly.
– Simone Muench, “Elegy for the Unsaid”
Broadside of “Elegy for the Unsaid” by Simone Muench, “Try” by Jennifer Grotz, and “burdens” by Quraysh Ali Lansana
Roger Reeves, Simone Muench, and Jason Koo at the Poetry Center of Chicago’s Six Points Reading Series, August 29, 2014.
More & more I see the human form, a nothingness which longs to be the sea. Lives infinitely repeated down to atomic thinness like footfalls in a strange house.