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Ponying Up
(Notes on a first visit to NYC’s Son of Pony open mic poetry reading at the Cornelia Street Cafe
More info here.)
Poetry is democratic
and red curtains hide nothing
in a basement where Prague summer lives,
a Glock becomes a vibrator,
turtles cross slowly in two different metaphors,
and the drink? Included in the seven dollar cover.
The narrow aisle keeps the emcee back by the bar
a disembodied voice
announcing three-minute turns.
“No connections between things/but they happen at once”
Or so says Brant Lyon
a poet.
In comedy clubs,
Three minutes can last an eternity
Much of bad comedy being lies
but poetry,
here,
for good or ill,
(mostly for good)
is someone’s truth
Shared.
–Lou Harry, July 2011
—
Your thoughts?
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