The Poetry Society of New York hopes to raise $10,000 for the 4th Annual New York City Poetry Festival. The organizers will use the money to host a 2-day event on Governor’s Island.
Some of the poets who have signed on to appear at this event include Paul Muldoon, Mark Doty, and Joyelle McSweeney. We’ve embedded a video about the project above. Here’s more from the Kickstarter page:
“This year we will welcome back more than 50 New York City poetry groups, including venerable institutions, upstarts, small presses, local reading series, literary journals, high school poetry teams, and more to The Festival’s three stages. If year’s past are any indication, over 250 poets will present and wow those gathered with their moment at the mic.”
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My mini-column for last week’s New York Times Magazine is on poetry and song. King David viewed them as natural companions, but these days they’re seen as distinct, unrelated arts.
Accepting Spain’s Prince of Asturias Award for Letters recently, musician and poet Leonard Cohen implicitly took David’s view. He spoke of learning a progression of six flamenco chords from a mysterious young Spaniard who soon killed himself. “It was those six chords,” Cohen said, “it was that guitar pattern that has been the basis of all my songs and all my music… Everything that you have found favorable in my songs, in my poetry are inspired by this soil.”
And he expressed unease over the honor. “Poetry comes from a place that no one commands and no one conquers. So I feel somewhat like a charlatan to accept an award for an activity which I do not command. In other words, if I knew where the good songs came from, I’d go there more often.”
Related: Christopher Ricks, Jonathan Lethem, and Lucinda Williams on the case for Dylan as poet; PEN New England’s new prize for excellence in song lyrics, judged by Paul Simon, Elvis Costello, Rosanne Cash, Paul Muldoon, and others; The Village Voice’s jokey list of contenders for the award; and, courtesy of my friend Michael Taeckens, Rimbaud and Jim Morrison. And, just for fun, Roger Miller and Dave Hickey on Hank Williams’ hooked-up verse.
Up all night, again.
I'm on a deadly schedule where night and day have no structure or meaning.
It's not insomnia.
I'm a member of the Midnight Gang in a world of Tequila Sunrises. ;}
The cycle must be broken but the carousel refuses to slow down.
I am spinning
and not a golden ring in sight.
I am out of control in all that I am.
Maniacal laughter across the way
I know that sound
The Haunted House is open
and waiting
but I'm on that ride already.
This poem does not need music. The words and rhythm are music. But what a song it would make.
ACQUAINTED WITH THE NIGHT by Robert Frost
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain --and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
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