Thursday, December 23, 2010

The Bad Boy On Christmas Day

The Bad Boy on Christmas Day

A family holiday,

they called it -

my sister being the first

to report on the coal in my stocking;

black, dirt-dusty and crude.

Like chalk it used my hands

as a blackboard,

branding me a black sheep,

no present for me

from Santa -

bad boy.

My sibling’s fingers

tore open their Santa gifts:

the teeth of a hungry pitbull

shred the digestable

until sick.

In that cool living room,

of winter air I watched,

breathless, uncringing,

leaving to change my clothes;

tee-shirt, jeans, black leather jacket.

Dreams of a white Christmas

made a prison-break,

black the new white.

If this is what made the Fonz so cool,

so it would be with me too -

cool, black and bad.

Someday I’d ride out of that house -

Passing lanes know no regrets.

This Christmas day, I’d wear

a scar, carry it to the front door –

weathered and in need of a new coat,

lead paint chipped and chipping –

getting the bird out the downstairs fridge, where

A red, 10-speed Schwinn leaned and tagged:

“From: Santa, MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

The rest of the family laughed, shouting,

“SURPRISE!”-

So there it was, official, on a tag with frostbite,

a gift, a bike, from Santa:

red, chrome, quiet,

and too cold and snowy

to ride                   today.

“Surprise!”

I don’t know either: why

St. Nick is so sneaky

nor every Christmas,

snow or no,

the Lowrider is fired up,

taken out of the garage -

riding it like it was stolen,

Protected by the pitted chrome

of an angel’s bell -

this machine, these tribal metallic flames,

red and roaring; the chrome,

black leather bags and bugs -

all do what the 10-speed couldn’t –

Ride this day,

Christmas-

With coal in my saddlebags,

leather armoring my torso

and appendages,

a brain-bucket on my head

and the moisture

of Winter’s air

cool upon my face.

Posted by JoeGo in 19:23:44 | Permalink | No Comments »

Poetry Never Takes A Holiday

Poetry never takes a holiday PDF E-mail
Written by Joe Gouveia
December 09, 2010
The holiday season is upon us and the first decade of the 21st century draws near to an end. The infamous Y2K computer virus never happened and the world hasn’t ended yet (popular urban legend says that happens 2012), nor has the economy been all that great since Bill Clinton was President. It seems, as the old adage goes, the more things change the more they stay the same – poetry, of course, being the exception.
The early part of the decade found poet Billy Collins named US Poet Laureate in 2001. Collins, famed for his humorous verse, was awarded the inaugural Mark Twain Prize for Humorous Poetry. With the trials and tribulations this country has been through this past decade, it seems Americans were primed for something light and funny. Sometimes poetry is like that, the popularity of a genre determined by a society’s needs. All things considered, America has needed a good laugh lately. Billy Collins did a good and apt job of providing us that. During a time of War on Terror, Collins told us “Another Reason Why I Don’t Keep A Gun In The House.”

The neighbors’ dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark
that he barks every time they leave the house.
They must switch him on on their way out.

The neighbors’ dog will not stop barking.
I close all the windows in the house
and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast
but I can still hear him muffled under the music,
barking, barking, barking,

and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,
his head raised confidently as if Beethoven
had included a part for barking dog.

When the record finally ends he is still barking,
sitting there in the oboe section barking,
his eyes fixed on the conductor who is
entreating him with his baton

while the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius.
As the past century ended and the new era began, there was much talk of poetry being more popular than in recent years. Certainly, some types of poetry were on the rise; performance poetry was for sure. But to make a blanket statement like “poetry is more popular” is misleading. I think poetry has always been popular. Certainly poets like Billy Collins have helped bring poetry in general to the forefront of more people’s minds, and being able to make folks laugh has always been a good sell. But such talks have centered around books and specifically attending poetry readings. And as much as I think it is a wonderful thing that poets like Collins get more people out to a reading and read more books of poetry, I beg the question, where else is poetry accessible to the public?
The first obvious answer is on the radio. Everyone says that Bob Dylan was one of the greatest poets ever; even Allen Ginsberg said that a title of “World Poet” should be made up specifically to give to Dylan. But there are more musicians of the past decade that live up to the call of a poet. Rap music and hip-hop are danceable forms of poetry. Adam Bradley has edited The Anthology of Rap (Yale University Press, 2010). It’s great that rap has its own anthology, since rhyming isn’t very popular in written verse these days. Collins has said of this new anthology, “Some readers of poetry still wonder where the rhymes went. One answer is they left the ends of the lines and went inside the poem. But rhyme also strongly re-emerges in rap. Whatever the stakes or the messages contained in this monumental volume, the like-sounds that used to be the engine of English poetry drive and power these energetic lyrics.” No one does that better than Jay-Z, who reminds us in his celebratory song, “My President Is Black,”

My president is black
infact he’s half white
so even in a racist mind
he’s half right
if u have a racist mind
u be light
my president is black
but his house is all WHITE
Rosa Parks sat so Martin Luther could walk
Martin Luther walked so Barack Obama could run
Barack Obama ran so all the children could fly
So I’ma spread my wings &
u can meet me in the sky
i already got my own clothes
already got my own shoes
i was hot before Barack imagine what im gonna do
But song lyrics aren’t the only place you’ll see or hear poetry. ‘Tis the season, after all, the season of mailing greeting cards to all our family and friends, wishing them prosperity and joy. We send those wishes with poetry on every card sent out. Of course, Maya Angelou tops the charts for most popular there. Earlier in the decade, the good Dr. signed a mega-deal with Hallmark. There is an entire Maya Angelou line of greeting cards and novelty gifts, all with her poems, or lines from them, some as framed sentiments to have poetry displayed in your house. In a day and age when many aspiring poets like to refer to themselves as “poets of the people.” Dr. Angelou has those very same people showcasing poetry in their homes and on their knick-knack shelves as well as mailing verse to each other for special occasions. So, it would seem, that her poetry gets out to the people more, and in more ways, than your average poet. “Dr. Angelou’s voice of hope resonates within all of us,” said Paul Barker, Hallmark senior vice president – creative product development. “Her words of love, joy, grief, and courage have been a particular source of inspiration to women across the globe.” And couldn’t we all use a little love, not just during the holidays but year round?
There are so many other places we see or hear poetry and never give it a second thought, because we are not specifically thinking to ourselves, “Hey, that’s poetry.” Only poets do that. Tradesmen and homeowners use poetry daily when reminding themselves of the rule of thumb on turning a nut or bolt, “righty tighty/lefty loosey.” And as much as I hate to put bumper stickers in the same category as poems, there are some pretty good ones out there. One of my favorites, especially during this time of year, is a play on words that I saw this past summer on a vacationer’s car in Provincetown: “Jesus Saves, But God My Wife Spends!”
Let us not forget, either, the limericks we all love to recite. Other than the local favorite “There once was a man from Nantucket…,” there are many more. Here’s one of my favorites by Edward Lear:

There was a Young Lady of Portugal,
Whose ideas were excessively nautical:
She climbed up a tree,
To examine the sea,
But declared she would never leave Portugal.

Funny how poetry is everywhere, but when it makes you laugh it’s not called poetry, it’s called funny. Funny is memorable. After all, it is the season to be jolly and joyous. So turn on your radio while filling out your holiday greeting cards, take a look at the knick-knack shelf, notice your neighbor’s bumper sticker and then use a rhyme to remind yourself how to do something. Chances are you’ll have a day like the past decade… full of poetry!
Joe Gouveia hosts The Poets Corner poetry radio show of WOMR-FM Provincetown every Thursday from 12:45 to 1 p.m. and online at www.womr.org where you can also subscribe to his podcasts. He also co-hosts The Poets Corner open mic with Barry Hellman the last Thursday of every month, 7 p.m., at the Cultural Center of Cape Cod in South Yarmouth.

Posted by JoeGo in 19:22:15 | Permalink | Comments (5)

Friday, September 4, 2009

Sen. Ted Kennedy poem

The Man Who Should Be President

In memoriam:

Senator Edward M. Kennedy,

Feb. 22, 1932 – Aug. 25, 2009

“For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on,

the cause endures, the hope still lives and the dream shall never die.”

— speech conceding the 1980 Democratic presidential nomination.

Ted, headlines read of your passing,

Camelot Ends, Again;

Liberal Lion Dies;

A Torch Extinguished –

But we refuse to believe it.

You taught us better than that,

“I speak out of a deep sense of urgency

about the anguish and anxiety I have seen across America.”

The death of our Liberal Lion

Must not nullify his roar.

“The cause endures” in a jungle

Of disease, poverty, unemployment,

And every child left behind.

In a cacophony of conservative voices

You sang of Jefferson and Jackson,

Committed to jobs and health care

While opponents labeled you liberal,

Your laws and causes, Socialism.

But you knew better than that.


Which 300+ bills

You authored and enacted

Into law were written in the reddest ink?:


Immigration and Nationality Act, 1965,

National Cancer Act, 1971,

Comprehensive Anti-Apartheid Act, 1986,

Americans with Disabilities Act, 1990,

Ryan White AIDS Care Act in 1990,

Civil Rights Act of 1991,

Mental Health Parity Act in 1996 and 2008,

State Children’s Health Insurance Program, 1997,

No Child Left Behind Act, 2002,

the Edward M. Kennedy Serve America Act in 2009,

Or was it several unsuccessful efforts at immigration reform?

Or Universal Health Care you championed for since 1970?


In Camelot you would be King,

In America, the man who should be President.

Contemporary Ben Franklin,

Master Orator, Elder Statesman,

Super Diplomat, The Man

Who got the deed done,

White hopes shrouded

By the black cloak draping

Your desk, formerly your brother’s,

white roses in a black vase – a song of yourself,

The great “I” not individual

But communal, community, America.


Your 46 years in the chamber

Outlasted single and two-term occupants

Of the Oval Office, 9 to be exact –

there would be no rest

For a Senator whose cigarette box

Engraving read, “The first shall be last.”

Good Catholic, Moses of the United States,

Your Old Testament values

Never shrugged due to New Testament politics,

And none of us have yet seen

The Liberal Land of milk and honey.


Though your body be dead

Your legacy is not.

Out of that deep sense of urgency

The cause must endure.

The illiterate must not remain illiterate,

The unemployed must not stay unemployed,

The sick must not get sicker,

The hungry not get hungrier

While the rich continue getting richer.


You vowed yourself to Whitman’s America,

Gave us a song and a dance and a dream.

Had you been President

America would be coughing less

And missing less time at work.


May every Patriotic American,

With Faith rooted in the Bill of Rights,

Get a tattoo of you on their Left arm,

The one used in the voting booth,

Hoping to keep the American Dream alive

And showing that “the dream shall never die.”

© Joe Gouveia, August 26, 2009

Posted by JoeGo in 00:22:23 | Permalink | Comments (14)

Monday, January 19, 2009

Word on Inaugural Poets

It has been 12 years since a poet read at the US Presidential Inauguration.  That changes on January 20th, when President-Elect Barack Obama is sworn into office and Elizabeth Alexander, a prize-winning poet who teaches at Yale, becomes the fourth poet to read at an inauguration, the second who is African-American and a woman.

 

The first African-American and second inaugural poet was Dr. Maya Angelou, who vacations annually on the Cape, at Bill Clinton‘s first inauguration in 1993.  She was America’s second inaugural poet, both the first Black and first Woman.  Most people remember her reading as “The Rock, The River, and The Tree,” the repetitive line used as metaphor, though the poem’s title is actually “ON THE PULSE OF MORNING.”  Dr. Angelou was already historic in the fight for Civil Rights and acclaimed as a poet, but doing the inauguration made her name a household word.  Now she has a contract with Hallmark.

 

Miller Williams read at Clinton’s second inauguration in ’97, though most people don’t even remember it.  Mr. Williams is no less a poet than the good Dr., and I would highly suggest reading his works.  He is a fine poet with strong narrative skills and apt use of imagery.  So why is he forgotten?

 

Consider the political ambiance of the country when poets have read at an inauguration: Robert Frost was the first in 1961, when John F. Kennedy was sworn in, taking office following eight years of a Republican President, Dwight D. Eisenhower.  Bill Clinton took office after 3 terms of Republican predecessors when he asked Maya Angelou to read.  Both Kennedy and Clinton took their respective oaths as young presidents from a party that hadn’t held the White House in double-digit years.  Words like “change” and “hope” and “reinventing government” were tossed around like wet towels, with all this hype behind a new young president, promising to make things better.  The poets served to pick up those wet towels and put them out to dry, in time for the inauguration and contribute to the alleged cleaning up of America’s woes.

 

Yes, Dr. Angelou did give a great inaugural reading in 1993, but the political weather played to her favor.  The proverbial winds of change helped fill the inaugural sails with a lot of hype.  I wouldn’t say that hype was a bunch of hot air, but you really had to read a very, very bad poem to mess up that gig.  It was the first inaugural poet the USA had heard from in 32 years.  For the first time in, well, maybe ever in America, the mass population was hungry, maybe even starving, for a poem.  And the good Dr. fed them inspirational nature imagery.

 

After Clinton’s re-election, an inaugural poem was still cool, but certainly not as pertinent or pressing.  Neither the inaugural poet nor the re-elected incumbent President was something new or fresh.  So Miller Williams, as fine a poet as he is, wasn’t original or unique in American’s minds.  Bill Clinton is the only president to have a poet read at back-to-back inaugurations, Williams the first poet to read for an incumbent.  With the last reading being only 4 years prior, the poet Williams hadn’t the hype that Frost or Angelou enjoyed.

 

Remember, reading at an inauguration made Maya Angelou a household word.  Will Ms. Alexander be blessed with a similar fate, or will her name fall into obscurity like Miller Williams?  Most likely, I believe, Ms. Alexander will be remembered.  Firstly, she is reading at a first inauguration, not a second.  That plays to her favor, as the country is again ripe for change and new leadership, with Americans hungry for a poem marking history.  Considering the current socio-political state of the Union coupled with the energy and intensity surrounding the President Obama inauguration, America the beautiful has not been this hungry for a poem to mark this history since our first Inaugural poet, Robert Frost, on January 20th, 1961.  

 

Robert Frost was 87 years old when he read for JFK, the first poet appearing at an inauguration, one could almost refer to it as performance poetry.  The poem was not read, but recited.  It was a very cold and windy January 20th in 1961.  Frost had actually written a poem specifically for JFK‘s inauguration, titled, “Dedication.”  But no one remembers, nor heard, that poem, at least not past the first few lines.  Due to the wind and cold, Frost’s eyes watered up and he couldn’t see the page, so he proceeded to recite a poem of his he had committed to memory, an old poem “The Gift Outright.”  It still fit the event, and the first poet at a US Presidential inauguration was a smashing success.

 

But Frost’s reading would be akin to Stanley Kunitz reading for President Obama this year, were he still alive, or Gerald Stern, who is very much alive.  Frost was one of America’s oldest poets, if not the oldest and already enjoying international fame as the face of American Arts & Letters.  He didn’t gain any fame from this Presidential gig, he got chosen because he already had it.  Angelou & Williams were known among literary circles especially, but the inaugural readings certainly helped their careers, although in different ways.  Frost enjoyed his honor a mere two years before his death.

 

And now we have Elizabeth Alexander, reading for the new, young President Obama, at an inauguration that makes history.  Barack Obama, the first Black President in US history, and a Democrat taking over after 8 years of Republican rule, up to face a task the size of which last seen when Franklin D. Roosevelt took office.  This inauguration, Americans again will be hungry for poetry, and Obama is supplying it, Ms. Alexander delivering.

 

Her poetry is that of constantly changing global histories and the way poetry confronts that.  She has written of the working class and their conditions.  Her poems are filled with apt observances from varying points of view with a dramatic voice and known for her eye to detail.  Her poems are persona and personal, and Janet St. John of the American Library Association says “Alexander has a musical voice that shifts from jazz-quick to bluesy to soulful lamentation.”  She has also written her own music.  Will she read her poem, or recite it as Frost did?

 

Elizabeth Alexander is Ivy League, a Yale professor, has published five volumes of poetry and made the final three short list for the Pulitzer Prize for her 2005 poetry publication, American Sublime.  She has won two Pushcart Prizes, NEA Fellowships and a Guggenheim.  According to her website, she’s the first recipient of the Alphonse Fletcher Sr. Fellowship for work that “contributes to improving race relations in American society and furthers the broad social goals of the U.S. Supreme Court’s Brown v. Board of Education decision of 1954,” and she has won the George Kent Award, given by Gwendolyn Brooks when she was alive, and who read at Cape Cod Community College in 1994.  About her work, former US Poet Laureate Rita Dove has said that Alexander’s “poems bristle with the irresistible quality of a world seen fresh.”  So the chances of her reading a bad poem are, well, none to none.  She will be remembered

Posted by JoeGo in 22:21:38 | Permalink | Comments (6)

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Word On Inaugural Poets

The following was first published in The Barnstable Patriot newspaper, on Jan. 9th, under the heading of my monthly Poetry column, “The Meter Man.”  Online editions appear at  www.barnstablepatriot.com

Word On Inaugural Poets


It has been 12 years since a poet read at the US Presidential Inauguration.  That changes on January 20th, when President-Elect Barack Obama is sworn into office and Elizabeth Alexander, a prize-winning poet who teaches at Yale, becomes the fourth poet to read at an inauguration, the second who is African-American and a woman.

 

The first African-American and second inaugural poet was Dr. Maya Angelou, who vacations annually on the Cape, at Bill Clinton‘s first inauguration in 1993.  She was America’s second inaugural poet, both the first Black and first Woman.  Most people remember her reading as “The Rock, The River, and The Tree,” the repetitive line used as metaphor, though the poem’s title is actually “ON THE PULSE OF MORNING.”  Dr. Angelou was already historic in the fight for Civil Rights and acclaimed as a poet, but doing the inauguration made her name a household word.  Now she has a contract with Hallmark.

 

Miller Williams read at Clinton’s second inauguration in ’97, though most people don’t even remember it.  Mr. Williams is no less a poet than the good Dr., and I would highly suggest reading his works.  He is a fine poet with strong narrative skills and apt use of imagery.  So why is he forgotten?

 

Consider the political ambiance of the country when poets have read at an inauguration: Robert Frost was the first in 1961, when John F. Kennedy was sworn in, taking office following eight years of a Republican President, Dwight D. Eisenhower.  Bill Clinton took office after 3 terms of Republican predecessors when he asked Maya Angelou to read.  Both Kennedy and Clinton took their respective oaths as young presidents from a party that hadn’t held the White House in double-digit years.  Words like “change” and “hope” and “reinventing government” were tossed around like wet towels, with all this hype behind a new young president, promising to make things better.  The poets served to pick up those wet towels and put them out to dry, in time for the inauguration and contribute to the alleged cleaning up of America’s woes.

 

Yes, Dr. Angelou did give a great inaugural reading in 1993, but the political weather played to her favor.  The proverbial winds of change helped fill the inaugural sails with a lot of hype.  I wouldn’t say that hype was a bunch of hot air, but you really had to read a very, very bad poem to mess up that gig.  It was the first inaugural poet the USA had heard from in 32 years.  For the first time in, well, maybe ever in America, the mass population was hungry, maybe even starving, for a poem.  And the good Dr. fed them inspirational nature imagery.

 

After Clinton’s re-election, an inaugural poem was still cool, but certainly not as pertinent or pressing.  Neither the inaugural poet nor the re-elected incumbent President was something new or fresh.  So Miller Williams, as fine a poet as he is, wasn’t original or unique in American’s minds.  Bill Clinton is the only president to have a poet read at back-to-back inaugurations, Williams the first poet to read for an incumbent.  With the last reading being only 4 years prior, the poet Williams hadn’t the hype that Frost or Angelou enjoyed.

 

Remember, reading at an inauguration made Maya Angelou a household word.  Will Ms. Alexander be blessed with a similar fate, or will her name fall into obscurity like Miller Williams?  Most likely, I believe, Ms. Alexander will be remembered.  Firstly, she is reading at a first inauguration, not a second.  That plays to her favor.  Past remembered inaugural poets read when the country was ripe for change and new leadership, and that certainly holds true even moreso this year. 

   

Robert Frost was 87 years old when he read for JFK, the first poet appearing at an inauguration, one could almost refer to it as performance poetry.  The poem was not read, but recited.  It was a very cold and windy January 20th in 1961.  Frost had actually written a poem specifically for JFK‘s inauguration, titled, “Dedication.”  But no one remembers, nor heard, that poem, at least not past the first few lines.  Due to the wind and cold, Frost’s eyes watered up and he couldn’t see the page, so he proceeded to recite a poem of his he had committed to memory, an old poem “The Gift Outright.”  It still fit the event, and the first poet at a US Presidential inauguration was a smashing success.

 

But Frost’s reading would be akin to Stanley Kunitz reading for President Obama this year, were he still alive, or Gerald Stern, who is very much alive.  Frost was one of America’s oldest poets, if not the oldest and already enjoying international fame as the face of American Arts & Letters.  He didn’t gain any fame from this Presidential gig, he got chosen because he already had it.  Angelou & Williams were known among literary circles especially, but the inaugural readings certainly helped their careers, although in different ways.  Frost enjoyed his honor a mere two years before his death.

 

And now we have Elizabeth Alexander, reading for the new, young President Obama, at an inauguration that makes history.  Barack Obama, the first Black President in US history, and a Democrat taking over after 8 years of Republican rule, up to face a task the size of which last seen when Franklin D. Roosevelt took office.  This inauguration, Americans again will be hungry for poetry, and Obama is supplying it, Ms. Alexander delivering.

 

Her poetry is that of constantly changing global histories and the way poetry confronts that.  She has written of the working class and their conditions.  Her poems are filled with apt observances from varying points of view with a dramatic voice and known for her eye to detail.  Her poems are persona and personal, and Janet St. John of the American Library Association says “Alexander has a musical voice that shifts from jazz-quick to bluesy to soulful lamentation.”  She has also written her own music.  Will she read her poem, or recite it as Frost did?

 

Elizabeth Alexander is Ivy League, a Yale professor, has published five volumes of poetry and made the final three short list for the Pulitzer Prize for her 2005 poetry publication, American Sublime.  She has won two Pushcart Prizes, NEA Fellowships and a Guggenheim.  According to her website, she’s the first recipient of the Alphonse Fletcher Sr. Fellowship for work that “contributes to improving race relations in American society and furthers the broad social goals of the U.S. Supreme Court’s Brown v. Board of Education decision of 1954,” and she has won the George Kent Award, given by Gwendolyn Brooks when she was alive, and who read at Cape Cod Community College in 1994.  About her work, former US Poet Laureate Rita Dove has said that Alexander’s “poems bristle with the irresistible quality of a world seen fresh.”  So the chances of her reading a bad poem are, well, none to none.  She will be remembered.

Posted by JoeGo in 15:38:32 | Permalink | Comments (4)

Friday, August 8, 2008

RUBBER SIDE DOWN The Biker Poet Anthology

Biker poets ready to ride between book covers

E-mail
by Joe Gouveia   

From the halls of academia to the shores of coffeehouse tables, poets find difficulty in being taken seriously.
It helps a little when they have a book out.  The Biker Poets now have a book out, and it is available online and at the Biker Poets & Writers Association website, www.bpwa.net

It seems that the twenty-something year old genre of biker poetry can now be taken a little more seriously, with a new biker poets anthology now out; RUBBER SIDE DOWN, The Biker Poet Anthology.  Not that any biker poet worth his salt that I know would care what someone else thinks about them. But this new anthology, published by Archer Books, LA, CA, is a case of a very rich literary history finally coming to fruition.  RSD features work by 44 poets (16 are women) and also features the incredible photography of Michael Lichter of Easyriders magazine fame.

On August 4th, 2008, Archer Books officially released RUBBER SIDE DOWN.  There is a saying among bikers as they ready to ride, “Keep the rubber side down, shiny side up!” In other words, don’t tip over, fool.  The biker poets in RSD don’t tip over, but rather take you on one hell of a ride from cover to cover.  To quote the great, famous Alicia Ostriker on this book, “The shiny side is truly up, the rubber side is truly down, and the language is truly alive, in this speedy, funky, glamorous, gloriously freedom-loving, death-defying, windblown and joyous anthology of poems.”

Poetry is the fine art of literature. It is what tells us of our history and our humanity, connects our spirits and moves our souls. Therefore, poetry is the wheel, the rubber of the mechanism spinning, thus propeling the machine forward (motorcycles don’t have reverse). RUBBER SIDE DOWN leaves the rest of the phrase, “shiny side up,” for prose.  But that’s another publication for another blog, maybe next year. One book at a time, here.

RSD is dedicated to Allen Ginsberg & Hunter S. Thompson, with quotes by Thompson and Lucinda Williams, and poetry by Ginsberg, Thom Gunn, Diane Wakoski, H-D Historian Emeritus Martin Jack Rosenblum and also features poetry and essays (an Intro, Foreward, History of and Afterword) by members of The Highway Poets Motorcycle Club, founded by legendary biker/poet Colorado T. Sky, who was Cape Cod Community College’s “Alumni of the Year” a few years back. He resides in Ohio after a five-year stint at Franklin Pierce College of New Hampshire as their visiting lecturer.

Back in the early ‘70s, in Colorado, a bunch of bikers and hippies (with some overlap) sat by a bonfire, partaking in various “spirits.” Sky swears he saw Hunter S. Thompson sitting across the fire from him, not saying much, much less to each other. Both were a few sheets to the early ‘70s weather. Sky announced his vision of a troupe of Biker Poets forming a club. Gonzo was all for it and encouraged him to follow through.

Some years later, Sky had a radio show and was having the great Allen Ginsberg as his guest. Sky says they had so much fun doing the show that they moved on to a coffeehouse down the road afterwards. When he told Ginsberg of his Biker Poets vision, he not only encouraged the idea, but told Sky that he could see Biker Poets in the 21st Century doing on bikes what the Beats did with cars in the ‘50s and ‘60s. Sky was taken aback, and looked down to his coffee cup for a sip, but when he looked back up Ginsberg was gone. He wasn’t in the coffeehouse, not outside, not in the bathroom.  It was as if he’d vanished into thin air after giving his blessing.

Sometime around 1980 Sky met up with K. Peddlar Bridges, and the Highway Poets Motorcycle Club was officially formed. Peddlar and poet J. Barret “Bear” Wolf operate the biker online Ezine, RoadPoet.com and RoadPoet-NY.com, and both are key members of the biker poetry “movement.” Peddlar served as Submissions Editor, club member Susan Buck Associate Editorm and I served as the Editor.  “Bear” will be booking biker poetry reading dates.  To keep up on biker poetry readings near you, visit www.roadpoet-ny.com and click on “Biker Poetry Month Events.”

That’s right, Biker Poetry evehn has its own month – August!  April rains too much for bikers.  So we got August, and a few biker mags and bike rally organizaers to endorse the idea.

RUBBER SIDE DOWN book release parties are scheduled to occur in Provincetown and Hyannis in August and into September, as well as in Boston, parts of Southeast Mass, Providence, NYC, Southeast Maine and across New Hampshire.  Bookings are in the works for Colorado, Florida, Nevada, California and Milwaukee, home of Harley-Davidson.

Someone recently asked me that although having a book is a big deal for any poet, does publication of RSD find the Biker Poets “selling out?”  Peddlar has assured members of the Highway Poets Motorcycle Club not to worry, that we haven’t sold out so long as we don’t shave our faces or cut our hair (female membership excluded).

What exactly is biker poetry? It’s simply poetry written by bikers. There is no official form or function to define it. It is more a movement of spirit, a Whitmanian tradition of celebrating America, a Kerouacian tradition of the open road. The Club motto is believed to be the world’s longest palindrome (a word or line that spells the same thing forward as backwards), “In girum imus nocte et consumimur ignI.” (spelled with caps fore and aft, because it reads in both directions, of course!). The literal translation is “we travel around at night consumed by fire,” figuratively, “we light the night.” It pretty much covers what the club is all about: we’re out there, coming and going back and forth, getting “The Word” out, combining the ancient with the modern, tradition with innovation, the mechanical and the scholarly, the crafts of performance and the writing.

What is great to see is that the poets in the forefront of establishing the biker poets, keeping them going and getting them published, are all great writers.

And as if that isn’t serious enough, the biker poets have a book out, an anthology, published by a California publisher, Archer Books. Rubber Side Down is now available in online bookstores and at the Biker Poets & Writers website, www.bpwa.net  Order yours today!

Again, the book is dedicated to Allen Ginsberg and Hunter S. Thompson for fueling us on, in more ways than one.

Now that’s serious.

Posted by JoeGo in 04:48:52 | Permalink | Comments (8)