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WCW – Stephen Bluestone

May 19, 2018

Wednesday, June 6, 2018, 7 p.m.

Williams Center for the Arts

Plus the words of William Carlos Williams
and open readings from the floor

Free

STEPHEN BLUESTONE lives and works in New York City, where he was born. His volume THE LAUGHING MONKEYS OF GRAVITY was nominated for the National Book Award in Poetry. THE FLAGRANT DEAD, also nominated for the National Book Award, has been called “original and beautiful” by Gerald Stern. Louis Simpson called the same volume “delightful and astonishing.” Bluestone has won The Greensboro Review Poetry Prize, The Thomas Merton Prize, as well as prizes in the Robert Penn Warren Competition and elsewhere. His work has appeared in Poetry, The Sewanee Review, The Hudson Review, and many other journals. His latest book, THE PAINTED CLOCK, was released this year on March 1 and is already in its second printing.

From “The Unveiling”

Now the world’s only
Season’s growing older,
The low stubble
Of the shuttling sky
And night, too,
A blanket of conclusions.
Of course, we could also say:
When night comes,
Whatever’s in the ground
Will keep like a new year
In winter’s closet,
And, sooner or later, it, too,
Will make ghosts of all
Brief distinctions.

Contact: John Barrale – john.barrale@gmail.com

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GV – John Barrale and Corina Bartra

May 19, 2018

JOHN BARRALE, CORINA BARTRA BACK AT GAINVILLE!

The Magic Circle series returns to GainVille Café Friday, June 1. JOHN BARRALE will be launching his new book of poetry, Poems for the Camel, which won the Cosmographia Chapbook Prize for 2018. Our musical guest will be Afro-Peruvian Jazz singer CORINA BARTRA, returning for an encore. Also featuring the Red Wheelbarrow Poets’ Bring-Your-A-Game open mic. A $9 cover includes coffee/tea, dessert. 7 PM

GainVille Café
17 Ames Avenue, Rutherford
201-507-1800

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RWB Workshop Poem of the Week – May 8

May 11, 2018

Poem of the Week 05/8/18

A Train That Turned to Stone

Janet Kolstein

Eros and Psyche
rolled in late one night
and took a seat beside me
to help in counting shades.

We’d had a threesome
years before
when my blood pulsed brightly
and my senses, ripely, hung,
burning in the sun.

I was known
for playing cameos
as myself,
and on a train
that turned to stone,
a man in a bowler hat
bombarded me
with the filmy lights
of people left behind.

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RWB Workshop Poem of the Week – May 1

May 7, 2018

Poem of the Week 05/1/18

HERE IS LIBERTY OF CONSCIENCE

Mark Fogarty

There is a saying, that we shall doe to all men
like as we will be done ourselves;
making no difference of what generation, descent or colour
they are. And those who steal or robb men,
and those who buy or purchase them,
are they not all alike?

Here is liberty of conscience, wch is right and reasonable;
here ought to be likewise liberty of ye body,
except of evil-doers, wch is an other case.
But to bring men hither, or to rob and sell them against their will,
we stand against.

Pray, what thing in the world
can be done worse towards us,
than if men should rob or steal us away,
and sell us for slaves to strange countries;
separating housbands from their wives and children.
Being now this is not done in the manner
we would be done at
therefore we contradict and are against
this traffic of men-body.

  • from “Germantown Friends’ Protest Against Slavery,” 1688

First protest against slavery in the British colonies, 92 years before the abolition of slavery in Pennsylvania. Signed by Garret henderich, derick up de graeff, Francis daniell Pastorius and Abraham up Den graef.

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WCW – Yuko Otomo & Steve Dalachinsky

April 27, 2018

Wednesday, May 2, 2018, 7 p.m.

Williams Center for the Arts

Plus the words of William Carlos Williams
and open readings from the floor

Free

YUKO OTOMO is of Japanese origin. A bilingual (Japanese & English) writer and a visual artist, she writes poetry, haiku, art criticism, travelogues, and essays. Her publications include STUDY & Other Poems on Art (Ugly Duckling Presse), KOAN (New Feral Press), and her latest, FROZEN HEATWAVE, a collaborative linked poem project with Steve Dalachinsky (Luna Bisonte Productions). She regularly writes for the collective critical writing forum www.Arteidolia.com.

Poet/collagist STEVE DALACHINSKY was born in Brooklyn after the last big war and has managed to survive lots of little wars. His book The Final Nite (Ugly Duckling Presse) won the PEN Oakland National Book Award. His books include Fool’s Gold and Black Magic (2014 and 2017 New Feral Press), A Superintendent’s Eyes (revised and expanded 2013/14 —unbearable/autonomedia), Flying Home, a collaboration with German visual artist Sig Bang Schmidt (Paris Lit Up Press, 2015) and The Invisible Ray with artwork by Shalom Neuman (Overpass Press, 2016). His latest CDs are The Fallout of Dreams with Dave Liebman and Richie Beirach (Roguart, 2014) and ec(H)o-system with the French art-rock group, the Snobs (Bambalam, 2015). He has received both the Kafka and Acker Awards and is a 2014 recipient of a Chevalier de l’Ordre des Artes et Lettres. His poem Particle Fever was nominated for a 2015 Pushcart Prize. His most recent books are The Chicken Whisperer (Positive Magnet Press, 2018) and Where Night and Day Become One—The French Poems, 1983-2017 (great weather for MEDIA, 2018).

Contact: John Barrale – john.barrale@gmail.com

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RWB Workshop Poems of the Week – April 24

April 27, 2018

Poems of the Week 04/24/18

Agriculture Aggregated

Bill Moreland

Little Bear said,
Cut me open, climb inside,
let me keep you warm.
Dunce cap tee-pees,
more ‘had’ than fooled
for repeated lessons
never learned.
Ranges and treaties
far-reaching but broken.
Gold grain woven
with staggered gray piping.
Totem poles and refinery columns.
Mud packed adobes
and stalactite ceilings.
The swallows are nesting
in the barbed wire.
The fires are smoldering
in the fallows.
The farmers’ sons cut through them
with a shallow plow.
Sparks crisscross
the crossed-out lower forty.
The perverted profit yielding
a zero sum’s gaming
propped up soy prices
with shortages.
There’s a Xerox in the barn,
the cows are multiplying,
extra buckets are required.
Manure boots
and three-piece overalls.
Aching bunions call for a drop in the market.
The Wall Street Journal predicts a calf by half spring.
Dawn on the farm,
like automatic garage doors,
crows.

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Careening

Arthur Russell

I don’t want to write a poem to you
or to the dark mole on your arm,
to your affection threading a finger under my shirt cuff,
or your octopus-ink-in-the-water soul.

I don’t want to meet the onrush of your love with words
that may deflect and send it away at an angle
I can only watch with regret, or use my verbal facility to suggest
that I am anyway the master of this rowboat.

But I will write a poem to you in the shape of a couch,
with the sound of the people talking out in the hall
and the smell of a store you haven’t been to in years
where discount dungarees were stacked on rough tables,

and the owner’s mother stopped you from pawing through the piles
by asking, in the nicest way, what you were looking for.

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RWB Workshop Poem of the Week – April 17

April 19, 2018

Poem of the Week 04/17/18

At His House

Arthur Russell

She slept in the car,
under two coats,
half woke cold wondering
whether to go in,
hiding from him and the chill
with reasons banked like drifts
and snow clumping on the window
next to her face.

He saw the car
from the second floor
bedded down in snow,
no footprints, and she wasn’t
in the spare room, the windshield
covered; he stubbed
his cigarette and went down.

Snow on the window screens
made the square grid show;
she opened the car door and blinked.

He opened the door, waited
for her to come, rehearsing,
by slight movements
how he would open his arms
to her.

———————————————————————
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