WINE AND POETRY NIGHT YEAR ONE
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or read and listen to the poems below
download a digital copy free / purchase from our etsy store
or read and listen to the poems below
Table of Contents
Introduction
Sometime last year a group of folks from Colorado moved to Eugene, Oregon and with them brought Wine and Poetry Night. Now once a month (at the time of this publication) various sorts of people (mostly disgruntled young adults) bring a bottle of wine or two and gather at a house illuminated with candles to read poetry, tell stories, and sing songs. You can drink to good poetry, you can drink to bad poetry, you can drink to whatever the fuck that just was which definitely could not possibly be considered poetry, or you can decline to drink at all. Without competition or stylistic limitations, the event is a lovely and safe space to share words in, especially with a glass of wine in hand. It had been many years since I last wrote poetry. Wine and Poetry Night's atmosphere gave me the inspiration I needed to start writing creatively again and climb out of my methodical rut of informational nonfiction. Embarrassingly, the only time that I write poetry at all is when I can attend a Wine and Poetry Night, but what can I say? I like to share. I love poetry because you can break the rule boundaries of language and create bigger, better, and juicier strings of words. This booklet collects the first year of poems I performed at Wine and Poetry Night. The poems appear chronologically in the order I originally wrote them between the dates of September 2014 and September 2015. Fun fact #1: I have never had a bottle of red wine I did not like. Fun fact #2: When drinking wine, I always drink red wine unless I am left with no other choice but to suffer through a glass of white wine. Note that these poems can be vulgar, funny, depressing, or whimsical, but, as is often the case, some amount is lost to the poems being written rather than performed. For a performance, you'll need to find me at the right time and place wherever in the world I am. If that all works out, preferably greet me with a bottle of red wine; this will make the performance better. Any quality of wine will do. Good luck. Two final notes: First, I suggest you read these poems with wine, either drinking or cradling the bottle. Second, thank you people of Snug Mansion for bringing such a wonderful event to Eugene! |
Dear Couch
Dear Couch, After a long hard day dare say I your embrace is like A hug on all the drugs Smell Memory This air is intoxicated with memories, it's like things go up my nose and a camera reel begins to turn; Coffee and mornings as a child. Warm bread and the dumpster of baguettes. Fish sauce and my ex's cunt. I smell memories. Don't Fuck With Me I'm sitting here organizing Rearranging neurons Dusting out the cells. Synthesizing atoms Colliding protons So don't fuck around with me, Okay? If I wanted to I could see magic on charred toast, gods in the toilet, And demons on your nose But today, No one's going to fuck around with me. Fate, I know that you're just trying to make me fall in love or kill me, but aren't we past this? Can't we just be friends? When there's a phone lying on the ground Or a key falls out of a box Or a bird shits on my head Oh I know what you're getting at Calling me to see something deeper Calling me to sway with the winds Calling me to be fucked with. Fate, I'm holding you tenderly, And sometimes I'll listen to And sometimes I'll follow your every weird word But today, I'm going to tell you what to do: Fuck off, I'm busy. Wolf House The wolves are asleep. Lying all around my mind my body my soul my house The wolves are always asleep That is until someone treads louder than a mouse Into my body my mind my soul my house And these wolves, they are hungry; Willing to eat anything Willing to eat the mind the body the soul Willing to eat a whole house. So I sit here waiting attempting patiently For someone For a mind a body a soul a house To come inside quieter than a mouse But I'm sorry I haven't made it easy There are boxes piled against the door and I hardly open the curtains anymore And the wolves. But you must understand they are the only ones to keep me company over the cold cold nights and these long long years And what then if they are gone? Will you stay? It is a delicate matter. So I sit here Sometimes thinking if that mind that body that soul that house were the better of these wolves an ax, a shotgun, and a shovel Might do finer than a mouse Raising hell just once to bury these wolves outside this house But be sure with an aim of rage because a mark off and I will go astray. And these days I might look A little wolf myself So don't be confused and surely do not lose. As I sit here waiting attempting, not so patiently For someone For a mind a body a soul a house Cat Power Purr at it; buildings will shake Meow at it; victory is in sight Put a cat on it; empires will crumble I Am Fiction I Am Dream I am fiction I am dream Inspired from the triumph of heroes and villains Hear me: I have seen gods And through which jealousy sparked An aspiration into their glorious steps To become a god. And seek only what is unseekable But then I realize how gods aren't revered Gods are things to be fearful of Holding life and death Happiness and eternal woe in flux And so now with a cleaver of contradiction too great for the lie of perfection to defend against I dethrone gods By ripping away the masks Which hide their souls. You see I was once baffled by beauty to the extent of being stabbed by a red searing blush Well I am no longer afraid of beauty Or even life itself I am here I am now I am inspired Within the gaze of a shooting star I will crash I will burn I will regrow in imperfect perfection And realize new intricacies within this fiction within this dream Child of Light Child of Light you rode faster than the moon Outran her cycles and they became untrue Split off from rationale and made love to the lush forests deep underground Mama's worried. I just don't know what to do. Child of Light I can almost see You're becoming something so new But don't you miss the moon? Mama's worried. I just don't know what to do. Look, I'll take you back to the moon. I'll find the forests deep underground Wouldn't you be happier there? But mama wouldn't have none of that, said she wasn't ready said you weren't ready sent down a hurricane to swoop you away You can't outrun this There won't be nothing left Except my memories of the possibilities of you. Friend Hey, hey you, You despicable, ugly and pathetic mother fucking gross piece of washed up, worthless, atrocious, no-good, lazy, fucked up, stupid, awkward, shit on a stick dipped in a pile of rotten skunk vomit You're just like me, aren't you? Let's be friends! Idea Thread And then a whirling and twirling idea smacked me in the face. I'm pulling a long black thread. I imagine at the end is a pink flamingo that will grant me one wish. I imagine at the end is beauty still upset at itself for a day that ended too soon. I imagine at the end is the end and that's all. The whirling and twirling went away. I forgot about the thread that was now a tangled heap at my feet. And here we are again. It Might Just Happen You might get a fish in your pants if you use the ocean as a blanket. Aren't you worried? Aren't you afraid? It might just happen! You might get a bear caught in your hair if you use the forest like a beauty salon. Aren't you worried? Aren't you afraid? It might just happen! You might get a wingnut in your house if you use the city at all. Aren't you worried? Aren't you afraid? It might just happen! You Are An Excellent Architect You are an excellent architect You've taken each broken relationship, and mortared them together into a perfect wall around your heart. You've wired together a beautiful fence of neurons to keep in the beasts of hate and out the lore of love. You've built a special mechanism, a twitch in your muscles, to show how disinterested you are. And you dug a trench to deepen the pitch of your voice just enough to sound like a sociopath. You are an excellent architect. You Are A Great Wizard! Poof! Puff! Pablamy! You are a great wizard! You need only say 'penis' around a gaggle of schoolboys to prove your power potent. Showered with giggles for hours on end. Your magic is fantastic. Poof! Puff! Pablamy! You are a great wizard! You need only smile briefly at a stranger to prove your power potent. Passing your joy from person to person your magic is fabulous. Poof! Puff! Pablamy! You are a great wizard! You need only follow your heart to prove your power potent Living each moment presently powerful your magic is everywhere. Poof! Puff! Pablamy! You are a great wizard! Be proud for you have powers none other do Be brave for just the right spell will open that sealed door And be wise for the wrong magic might just end it all. You are a great wizard. Poof Puff Pablamy Cocoon I'm going to wrap myself into a cocoon and pop out as the biggest brightest flower. Sand I was chewing on grains of sand Golden Ticket I found a beautiful golden ticket, it is a first class ticket, to get the fuck away from you. Dig Chop There are demons surrounding me, so all I can do is start digging a hole and chop wood underground. Do You See Any Fucks Growing In My Garden? Today, I took my little shovel and ever so carefully weeded my little garden of every single last little fuck. I started by stabbing deeply into the mind, loosening the roots of that fuck that grew like hot jealousy in late summer Fuck fact: Fucks spread through root, seed, and invisibility Fact. Then I stabbed again the other side of that fuck growing like frigid death in mid winter. Fuck fact: Fucks grow fast. They take over your garden. You must weed them out before they eat you alive. Fact. I exposed the roots with my hands, finding that fuck from early spring who looked almost innocent. Fuck fact: When a fuck takes you over you spread fucks to other gardens and become a fucker Fact. And then I grabbed hold of the whole fuck, a scared demon in the fall, It screamed no as I pulled and I threw that fuck in the fire before it could grab hold. Now do you see any fucks in my garden? None, I'm growing a crop of petunias this year, and I just don't give a fuck. Sweep Sweep Sweep You go outside underneath the stars to silently sweep away every brilliant color of the rainbow that ever found itself at your doorstep. Dilapidated. Methodical. Sweep sweep sweep You remember a warm hand embracing the unworthy flesh on your fingers. It felt as if a small sun had blossomed in that space between and warmed the whole neighborhood. Sweep sweep sweep You remember the thin line between a demon and trust This match for fire that metal for blood a word for safety. Sweep sweep sweep You remember laying cozily underneath soft sheets, moving oh so quietly to keep her dream alive. A mossy forest in a bowl, sewn up strands of fabric, and so many little animal bones. Sweep sweep sweep You remember mother fucking sweep sweep sweep and are glad that broom isn't perfect while looking up at the stars. Sweep sweep sweep |
| 2017-5-1_dear_couch.mp3 |
| 2017-5-1_dont_fuck_with_me_-_im_sitting_here_organizing.mp3 |
| 2017-5-1_wolf_house_-_the_wolves_are_asleep.mp3 |
| 2017-5-1_cat_power_-_purr_at_it_building_will_shake.mp3 |
| 2017-5-1_child_of_light.mp3 |
| 2017-5-1_idea_thread.mp3 |
| 2017-5-1_it_might_just_happen.mp3 |
| 2017-5-1_you_are_an_excellent_architect.mp3 |
| 2017-5-1_do_you_see_any_fucks_growing_in_my_garden.mp3 |
| 2017-5-1_sweep_sweep_sweep.mp3 |
