[DesertCity] Lee Ann Brown & Carl Martin, Saturday, April 30, 8pm @ Internationalist
rumblek at bellsouth.net
Thu Apr 28 11:00:43 EDT 2005
Who: Lee Ann Brown, author of _Polyverse_
and _The Sleep that Changed Everything_,
babbitter for the IFGO, can juggle hogs while
reciting verses from "Childe Roland to the
Dark Tower Came" in Polish.
Who: Carl Martin, author of _Genii Over
Salzberg_ and _Go Your Stations, Girl_,
haberdasher for Jay Leno, person behind the
decision to make grass green.
What: Desert City Poetry Series, LAST
Reading of the Season: In with a BANG, out
with a Ka-BOOM!!
When: This Saturday, April 30th, 8pm, 2005,
putting the period on Poetry Month.
Where: Internationalist Books, 405 W.
Franklin Street, Chapel Hill, to the right of
the sun and under the stars.
Why: "The world's agog with use / like a
saint's patrimony" "Convert play's
determining eye-- / to sight -- jolt my light
See you there....
*Desert City Poetry Series:
*Lee Ann Brown:
Contact the DCPS: Ken Rumble, director
rumblek at bellsouth dot net
by Lee Ann Brown
The particle waves -- in your firmament -- comb
A golden mane -- thereof -- a graph --
Cruel behavior's handiwork -- undone --
All phenomenon O Lord -- can laugh
At the bright apparatus -- of redeemers -- come
To circuit round sharp amplitude --
Jumpstarted -- wavelength -- honeycomb
My commandment -- to your frequency's mood
Thy experiment is way past way --
Outer space -- Meditation's intensities
Convert play's determining eye --
To sight -- jolt my light propensities --
To click my arms around your glory --
Converting gentler light -- to photon's
" The Prescription Drug Challenge"
by Carl Martin
It was while popping members of the "triptan"
That I began dreaming of the South African
Trapped inside a diamond shaped molecule its
sticky, yellow venom
Slides inside its slick confinement like wind
Through the furry cuffs of the pussy willow.
This bee is a good swimmer, but not a great
Though its talent has been honed bouncing
through the waves
The spray and loneliness of the South Coast.
I know deep in the knobby, long distance
knees of the soul
That it has not spread all the pollen that I
would like to spread with it.
Somehow, in my wise inclinations I fear that
this is a truly American
"Stinger," a short spanned hum-vee of the
wild Florida grasses
Plowing through the airs and porches like a
In ways that Maeterlinck could never have
Not even poetically, "just as Deborah, whose
name means Bee"
Judged Israel--in a story I may not actually
This is the way the blind see, even in Miami.
Jehovah forgive us
And excise from the brain: the flesh, the
hubbub, and the rub
For sometimes through the digital
transference that is all we see
Though the light is blinding.
And the contest never as numbing as we would
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