poetryweblog
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Literary links linger'd over by a poet....

Saturday, May 03, 2003
I like what Steve Earle (songwriter) has to say about
the difference between songwriting and poetry. Turns out he also writes stories.....

Do you make a distinction between poetry and song lyrics?

Steve Earle: Sure. I agree with Gregory Corso—I mean, I understand why it irritates him when they call songwriters "poets." Songwriters have the advantage of refrain, they have the advantage of the emotions that tonality in and of itself evokes, and poets don’t have that. I’ve got two really close friends who are poets, and both of them said the identical thing when I asked them about it: "You know, poetry’s hard." And it is. It’s absolutely the purest and toughest form of art. It fascinates me, and I haven’t given up on it.


posted by Celia Saturday, May 03, 2003
. . .
The price of this book, Leonard Cohen

I had high hopes for this book. I used to be there, too. I
thought I might live in one place and know one woman. I walked
through the starlight this morning. I made my way through the
lambs to the slanted concrete floor. I had on my red apron and
I had the woman I loved. I wanted to end it, but it would not
end: my life in art. I had pledged my deepest health to work
this out. The working was way beyond this book. I see this
now. I am ashamed to ask for your money. Not that you have not
paid more for less. You have. You do. But I need it to keep
my different lives apart. Otherwise I will be crushed when they
join, and I will end my life in art, which a terror will not let
me do.


posted by Celia Saturday, May 03, 2003
. . .
Donna Stonecipher in Conjunctions.

I knew Donna years ago in Seattle, before and after she lived in Prague. I think she's a marvelous poet.

White Mouth


I had forgotten all about the star inside the apple, eating my way through orchardsful in the intervening years, years marked by

Who does not judge each heart by halving it from the top instead of scoring delicately around the girth? Still,

If I could fill myself with milk I'd be the old statue weathering in the yard: evangelical, cicatrixed with white roses, the white of

My heart is as sad and wide as the side of a barn, the town drunk said. Anyone can hit it, and quite frequently

But forgiveness is not in the purist's white apothecary. Skin secretes, a mouth like oil never dries, and desire does not stay inside the lines

The face of the statue in the wild yard is soft and smeared as though definition itself were an affront--herein nature's woozy story

How "human" is human enough. Little rescues are at hand, angels in plainclothes, but how can we know inside whom embark the seeds of our

As I stood holding my face up to the night sky the stars in their pristine arrangements pricked every last swollen thing inside me, as if

For the larger the target of your heart, the more you must smelt yourself down to the slick business of forgiving

Forgiveness the liquid eating away at the cool white stars of the sugar. Intransigence the cream billowing up through the dark

I hold with white hands the purity of my own arrangement, while the brown star glows forgotten inside the pristine cage of each

In the tribunal of the streets I judge and condemn, never by choice but because we do what comes naturally

Show me, the town drunk said, one star in the night sky that is not waiting to be eaten by the spacious white mouth of the sun




posted by Celia Saturday, May 03, 2003
. . .
Friday, May 02, 2003
Thanks to all who made Urban Epiphany 2003 a resounding success. We had 100 readers, many happy listeners, and coverage by two local news stations.

Today, more sound:

UBU Web, featuring Artaud, Patti Smith, Ed Sanders, Frank O'Hara and many others reading their own poetry. Includes a section of readings from the St. Mark's Poetry Project, very special.


posted by Celia Friday, May 02, 2003
. . .
Sunday, April 27, 2003
Celia White (that's me) on WBFO. (includes audio)

BUFFALO, NY (2003-04-25) A month long poetry celebration ends on Sunday, April 27 with one last, breathless event in Buffalo.
The five-hour long poetry marathon, called Urban Epiphany, will feature non-stop recitations by more than one hundred local poets.

In the last of our special series previewing the event, WBFO's Joyce Kryszak showcases Celia White, one of the founders of Urban Epiphany.

You might say that Celia White breathes poetry.

She's a prolific writer - of both fiction and poetry. And she's the winner of several distinguished awards, including the Academy of American Poets.

So, it's only natural that White would spend her leisure time traveling to other cities - to experience more poetry.

In 1998, White made a sort of pilgrimage to New York City for the St. Mark's New Year's Day poetry marathon. She says it was that experience that inspired Urban Epiphany.

She and co-founder Joe Todaro have spent months organizing the Buffalo poetry event. But White doesn't mind. She says words have always kind of been her obsession.

You can hear White talk about and recite her work by clicking the "listen" icon above.

And you can hear White, and about one hundred of her friends, read their poetry at Urban Epiphany on Sunday, April 27.

The event will be held from 3:00 PM until 8:00 PM at the Unitarian Universalist Church on Elmwood Avenue.


posted by Celia Sunday, April 27, 2003
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