Lloyd Robson – October 2, 2012

September 18, 2012 § Leave a comment

Vulgar, vigorous and exhilarating, Lloyd Robson is a Welsh poet, prose
writer and broadcaster based in Queens, NY. Lloyd has performed and been
published on five continents and is author of several books, most notably
Cardiff CutBBBOING! & associated weirdness, and Oh Dad! A Search for
Robert Mitchum. You can check out his website here.

When:  October 2, 2012
Where: Terraza 7 Cafe, 40-19 Gleane Street, Elmhurst, NY 11373
Time: 7:00 – 9:00 PM (open-mic sign up at 6:45)
Other: $5 suggested donation. For more information contact Richard Jeffrey Newman.

Here’s one of Lloyd’s poem:

this sticky heat

cornhead primed, the wheatsheaf tide laps cliffhigh
in milky wet sunshine at the edge of field.

laid under bramble hedge, i roll pert blackberries between my teeth
project with my tongue & pop between your waiting lips.

over walnutwood eyes you drop your lids
loll fruit flesh & squeeze for release, suck juice, swallow pips.

we kiss, join & rejoice in the field off the gulling sea, reverberate the low breeze
the pumping thud of human blood, quiverheavy with salt & seed.

our sweated sighs entwine with the bush branch & leaf, the final flicked wingbeats
of blacksaffron bees prone on the sandy mud, each bleached with this sticky heat.


KC Trommer’s Reading Was A Hit

September 4, 2012 § Leave a comment

I am happy to say that our first First Tuesday was a big success. Sadly, my phone batter died and so I have neither photos nor video of the evening, but everyone who read was wonderful. During the open mic, Naomi read, as she has been for the last year, her mother’s poetry; Fernando got and read for the first time in five years; and Norman Stock made us all laugh with the poems he read from his two books, Buying Breakfast for my Kamikaze Pilot and Pickled Dreams Naked. And somehow these three readers encompassed how poetry builds community: by embodying voices that endure, by giving voice to the simplest and most complex yearnings we experience, and by making us laugh. And KC Trommer’s poems were a delight, playful, erotic, fraught–as she herself put it a couple of times. There was not just life in them, but a life was in them, and it was a pleasure and a privilege to be allowed into that life just for the evening.

The audience was responsive and appreciative throughout. I am looking forward to October’s reading. I hope you will join us.

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