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RWB Workshop Poem of the Week – Feb 14

February 16, 2017

Poem of the Week 2/14/2017

Zorida Mohammed

Vegetable Anyone?

Sumaria settles her tray on her head calmly
like one of her cows swishing flies
off her hind quarters and heads out to sell.

In the carefree quiet after school hour,
when the day is turing in on itself
morning glory like,
my sister and I are dawdling on Back Street
on our way to Mactab
when we run into her.

We ask to see what is on her tray.
When she resists,
we tug
until she lowers it.

Something about her with that tray
on her head, a girl my own age,
bare feet like me,
with old tomatoes, squingy eggplants,
and other bruised things
caused such a mixed-up primal feeling
to rise up in me
I didn’t know if to cry or hit her.

Instead, I said something mean
and ran off with my sister.

—————————————————————-
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Blog – http://redwheelbarrowpoets.org (220 followers)
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GV – Irish Music plus The Poets of the Week

February 13, 2017

Join the Red Wheelbarrow Poets for music and poetry at 7:00pm on Friday, Feb. 24. Musical guest will be the duo of BRENDAN FOGARTY on Irish pipes and tin whistle and FIONA CONWAY on vocals playing Irish traditional music. Featured poetry includes a book launch for POEM OF THE WEEK 2016, featuring several of the poets featured in the new book: ZORIDA MOHAMMED, JOHN BARRALE, WAYNE L. MILLER, and MARK FOGARTY. An open mic follows.

$8 cover includes coffee/tea, dessert

GainVille Café
17 Ames Avenue
Rutherford
201-507-1800

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WCW – Arthur Russell

February 13, 2017

Wednesday, March 1, 2017, 7 p.m.

Williams Center for the Arts

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

Free

ARTHUR RUSSELL lives in Nutley, New Jersey, where he works as a lawyer. He is the winner of both Providence Fine Arts Work Center and Syracuse University fellowships as well as Brooklyn Poets’ YAWP Poem of the Year for 2015 and YAWPER of the Year for 2016. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in the Paterson Literary Review, Prelude, Yellow Chair Journal, Muse-Pie Press, Shot Glass Journal, Brooklyn Poetry Anthology (2017), the Red Wheelbarrow #9, and Wilderness House Literary Review.

God

Knock, knock. The vestibule light goes dark.
Then the porch light goes out.

Behind the door
the scrape of a butane lighter wheel
and the little hiss of gas.

God is a shut-in
who turns off the lights
to make you think no one is home

and then stands just inches away
in the dark, smoking a cigarette.

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

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RWB Workshop Poem of the Week – Feb 7

February 13, 2017

Poem of the Week 2/7/2017

Nasreen Khan

Brown Bitch

The small brown bitch had whelped her puppies,
but at seven I didn’t know what
whelped meant, or how to pronounce
bitch.

She had chosen a sand hollow
in the overbite of the dune.
I knew that hollow and
every hollow of this
acre of land

I smelled her before I saw her.

I squirmed, with the shadow scent
that would become the occasional scent of my own body
in the still-distant days of womanhood,

Hot, thick, bitter smell
with a sweet jammy undertone
like berries swelling in the sun.

Smell of sex. Smell of violence. Smell of animal and mineral. Smell of
the savage mating I’d seen in the yard, and the
nestling warmth of the little pudding-colored puppy
I was allowed to keep.

Twenty-one puppies and eighteen
survived. She ate one I think—the runt
and who could blame her, after days of
labor in a waterless hole.

The salty blood must have tasted sweet
after that.

—————————————————————-
Poem of the Week email subscription
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Blog – http://redwheelbarrowpoets.org (216 followers)
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RWB Workshop Poem of the Week – Jan 31

February 2, 2017

Poem of the Week 1/31/2017

Claudia Serea

You won’t know this love

You won’t know this love
until you’ll know each mole,
each constellation
on her skin,

until you’ll recognize her skin scent
and crave it at night.

You’ll feel the need to touch,
to carry
your little monkey
on your back.

The urge of milk,
eyes closed.

You won’t know this love
until you’ll feel your rib
missing her rib,

the ocean of your blood
seeking her ship.

—————————————————————-
Poem of the Week email subscription
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Blog – http://redwheelbarrowpoets.org (214 followers)
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/RWBPoets (345 likes)
Twitter – https://twitter.com/RWBPoets (89 followers)

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GV – New Date for Electric Poets Gathering / Alfred Incarnacion

January 26, 2017

Join the Red Wheelbarrow Poets for music and poetry at 7:00pm on Friday, Feb. 3 (moved back from Jan. 27). Musical guest will be THE ELECTRIC POETS GATHERING, featuring GEORGE PERENY. Featured poetry includes a book launch for ALFRED INCARNACION’s new collection about his mixed Filipino-American heritage, Ambassadors of the Silenced, and guest poet JAMES B. NICOLA, author of Manhattan Plaza and Stage to Page: Poems from the Theater. An open mic follows.

$8 cover includes coffee/tea, dessert

GainVille Café
17 Ames Avenue
Rutherford
201-507-1800

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RWB Workshop Poem of the Week – Jan 24

January 25, 2017

Red Wheelbarrow Poets
Poem of the Week 1/24/2017

Arthur Russell

The Third River In the Rain

I love the rain when the rain fills the river,
when the rain fills the river, and the river starts to run,
and the willow branches read the braille of raindrops on the surface,
and ducks, defying type, hide underneath the roadway bridge,
and silent geese glide slantwise to their landing on the river,
and the island in the river sits down lower in the water,
and the tree roots hold the riverbanks,
and the empty branches lift the lowered sky
whose thickened clouds glow weirdly in the nearby city lights.

I love the rain when the rain fills the river,
and the river swells with meaning, and its meaning is to run
past the dam at Kingsland Manor, past the strip mall
on the highway that was once a marsh,
but now has a Chipotle, and the river that would fill that marsh
runs black behind the cars that park for dinner,
in a concrete quarantine that drains the rain that falls on Garret Mountain
through Essex towns and golf courses
to broaden where it joins the fouled Passaic.

I love the rain when I walk beside the river,
when I walk beside the river on my way home from the city,
from the bus stop on the highway, on a pathway
through the darkened park, my raincoat soaked,
my wide-brimmed hat with raindrops dripping from the brim,
whose felt I smell, whose smell I feel, whose beaver eaves
I walk beneath like the ducks beneath the roadway bridge
who see me walking past them to my house a few blocks further,
a man between his job and home, a home between its innocence

and what is yet to come.

—————————————————————-
Poem of the Week email subscription
https://zc1.maillist-manage.com/ua/optin…

Blog – http://redwheelbarrowpoets.org (213 followers)
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/RWBPoets (340 likes)
Twitter – https://twitter.com/RWBPoets (89 followers)