Visiting Moonstone

On the way to Minar Palace

we hiked up the

frozen steps to Moonstone

second floor and rising

————————————————————————————-

The audience space seemed repaved

possibly the audience would be regrooved

The whole place, stage and all,

looked to have been graded

up

—————————————————-

Still

I could hear decades of voices

Herschel Baron editing me in public

an echo of what he did for many

not out of malice

but out of habit

———————————————————————–

Chris Peditto

hawking whatever Poetry Mag or Rag

he was then part of

I remember him shouting

“Anarchy is not chaos”

——————————————————-

Maralyn P

reading of lust and love

and love and lies

and lust and food

—————————————————————————————

and the first time I saw her she was-

we promised never to discuss

that again

and we won’t

nor mention the pink handcuffs

————————————————————————–

Kimmika L H Williams

speaks Osiris

sings Osiris

shreaks Osiris

and we stunned ones

too thrilled to speak

just sit

then explode in applause

———————————————————

Jerome Robinson

rest in peace

but not his words, like

“ I hate Art

sold in the Met

like Rockefellers pet”

may his words never rest

___________________________________________

Lamont B. Steptoe

B for Poet Bold as Love

Lamont B. Steptoe

shouting

“Something Broke Loose”

and it’s his words

breaking loose

and it’s his

life

breaking loose

and it’s his poetry magic

his words

his power

—————————————————–

and it’s Jim Cory

the Jim Cory story

“Walking in the Rain”

the first Poet I knew

who spoke of sober and silences

and how it was just as natural

for any love

that you held

and belonged to you

———————————————————————-

and the loud ding ding Poet

who just blew in from

a Chicago wind

on a yes and a ter and a day

and the tambourine ran and

the tambourine sang

he will sing again for us

and sing again next year

——————————————————————

and the one guy

heard about our Readings

from the guy in the bunk next to him

at the Shelter

said P and P

at Robin’s

ask for Bob

and he drummed and read

drummed and read

and told us truths

we hadn’t wanted to hear

———————————————————————

Anne-Adele speaks quiet

I don’t always know

who her images are

or what they mean

till my mind hears them later

again and again

it’s like the clues

in the Agatha Christie novels

that you only see

in the second reading

Anne Adele speaks quiet

her images aloud

———————————————————————

In five years

or less

or less

there may not be this room

any room

for the artists and poets

without pedigree degrees

without a cachet

without

proper

papers

————————————————————————-

There may not be a room

for a

space for a

displaced

un traced

wild faced

word

workers.

———————————————————————

There may not be room

for this room

in what this city

has become

I can hope there will be

but I have hoped for many things

and held but a few

But I hope there always will be

so our sons and daughters

real and spiritual

real and spiritual

can stand here

and hear voices

————————————————————

Bob Small

11-26-11

from 9-17-11