Artless

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Last night I went to my first ever poetry reading at the KGB Bar in 4th E street in the East Village. pretty ironic to be listening to poetry in a bar named the KGB but whatever….I had no idea what to expect – the last time I heard poetry being read was during first year English Literature at Rhodes. The two poets were Erin Belieu and Brenda Shaughnessy and it was really lovely to bask in literature all evening without an air of pretentiousness.

It isn’t easy to listen to poetry being read because sometimes an image catches your imagination and you lose track, but I’m convinced now that all poetry should be read out aloud, even just for yourself.

Here is a snippet from one of my favourite poems by Brenda from last night – and I loved the melody of it when she read it. You can read more about her here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/244536

Artless

is my heart. A stranger
berry there never was,
tartless.

Gone sour in the sun,
in the sunroom or moonroof,
roofless.

No poetry. Plain. No
fresh, special recipe
to bless.

All I’ve ever made
with these hands
and life, less

substance, more rind.
Mostly rim and trim,
meatless

but making much smoke
in the old smokehouse,
no less.

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