Page Meets Stage Recap
I did nothing Wednesday.
Wednesday NIGHT, however, I featured at the Bowery Poetry Club again, but this time for Page Meets Stage. I was co-featuring with the great Kevin Young, who has been publishing really thick books of poetry and winning awards for his trouble since 1993.
While I, according to Omar, clearly won the battle of the wavy hair, Page Meets Stage isn’t a contest or a slam. Even if it were, the math wouldn’t add up: Kevin Young gets paid thousands of dollars to show up and read poems. He stayed at a hotel in the middle of the city that was probably $250 a night and doesn’t bring merch to gigs because you can buy his books at any major bookstore. He can’t not get published.
I had to wake up this morning and put a screen on a guy’s computer so he could look at his porn uninterrupted. I don’t care how well you read a poem…Kevin Young wins that contest every day.
When I interviewed jazz great Stefon Harris earlier this year he talked about what he feels he’s really trying to do with his instrument: sing. A lot of what was going on that night was like that: two cats pacing each other with words, interpreting the same people and issues and values, but differently, but not. I would do a poem about mothers and he would fire off a poem about family. At the end of the first set I was like, “Don’t stop us! We’re killing it up here! We’re going places, man!” I felt like we were storming something, but I’m not sure what.
October 25, Bowery Poetry Club
Page Meets Stage w/ Kevin Young, NY, NY
Whuppins
What the Black Poets Will Kill Me for Telling You
The Organist
To the High School Thug That Broke into His English Teacher's Car
How to Make a Crackhead
Aunties (by Kevin Young)
When Your White Friend Says “Nigger” by Accident
Mating Season
6 in the Morning
Kevin Young and I are the same age, and we write about many of the same things. Some people say there are moments when my tone hits right down the middle between us. I am glad to say that this is not by design - it’s just how I write - though he was influential for me in one key way that I did mention onstage:
There was a period of time when I was at a crossroads with my work as a black artist, when I had to decide if I would do what was clearly black work or not. Anyhow, I came across Kevin’s work and I said, “Now THAT’S how you approach blackness in poetry. He’s got the balance.” I didn’t cop his style or anything, but he made it okay in my mind to approach the subject matter of blackness unapologetically again, and really work to find a way to satisfy my art and myself. I forget how many years ago that was, but I’m glad it happened, and that was Kevin Young’s contribution to my development. It’s significant. There are a LOT of poems I would never have written going the other way, and none of the ones I would have written would have put me on stage with someone like Kevin Young now. So he was a real touchstone for me and it was more than an honor to be able to say that in front of him, to him.
Signing books for each other. We're fans!
I opened the first set, and I opted for “Whuppins”. My second one was a new piece, “What the Black Poets Will Kill Me for Telling You.” I made a point to mention that it wasn’t about all black poets…just the good ones. Once that kid glove was off, we were doing what he wrote in an email to Taylor he hoped would happen: we had a cuttin’ session.
Poem after poem after poem…goodness. He read so many of my favorites. I was nailing my performance voice. We were both in the zone, man.
We could NOT keep a straight face after the show for this shot.
During the second set Kevin read one of my poems - “How To Make a Juke Joint” - out of Watering Hole: Juke Joint Poems. I figured that whatever poem he picked of mine to read it would come out of that book. It really is the singular best book I’ve ever done so far, and it hits right down the middle of the kind of thing we both like to write about: black folks doing black things. Case in point, I performed his poem “Aunties”.
I made a joke that white folks call them “aunts”. Kevin corrected me comically by changing the pronunciation to “ants”. We did this kind of thing the whole time, out loud and with our poems: digging.
He read out of his manuscript for his new book, and I can’t believe I didn’t ask him to take a look at it. What does he cut out of his poems, and why? Are they the same things I would cut? Smacking my head now. he emailed me back and said it was a second galley pass. So I guess I wasn't missing out on the WHOLE enchilada, but STILL.
Louise put together a new chapbook for me specifically for this gig called The New Black. It’s short, but it’s punchy, son. By the end of the show I had read the whole thing, which was my intention. It is exactly what it sounds like. I sold a lot of copies of it to a discerning audience. I am happy.
Hanging out afterward eating and talking shit was awesome. We talked a little about what I was doing and wanted to do. Families. Other poets. Magnifique. When we parted he jokingly said, “I feel like I’ve known you all my life.” Exactly.
This pairing was Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz’s idea well over a year ago and Taylor Mali’s tenacity made it a reality. I am indebted to them both beyond words.
I don't have a pic with Taylor because he charges $100 a snap. WhatEVER.
Wednesday NIGHT, however, I featured at the Bowery Poetry Club again, but this time for Page Meets Stage. I was co-featuring with the great Kevin Young, who has been publishing really thick books of poetry and winning awards for his trouble since 1993.
While I, according to Omar, clearly won the battle of the wavy hair, Page Meets Stage isn’t a contest or a slam. Even if it were, the math wouldn’t add up: Kevin Young gets paid thousands of dollars to show up and read poems. He stayed at a hotel in the middle of the city that was probably $250 a night and doesn’t bring merch to gigs because you can buy his books at any major bookstore. He can’t not get published.
I had to wake up this morning and put a screen on a guy’s computer so he could look at his porn uninterrupted. I don’t care how well you read a poem…Kevin Young wins that contest every day.
When I interviewed jazz great Stefon Harris earlier this year he talked about what he feels he’s really trying to do with his instrument: sing. A lot of what was going on that night was like that: two cats pacing each other with words, interpreting the same people and issues and values, but differently, but not. I would do a poem about mothers and he would fire off a poem about family. At the end of the first set I was like, “Don’t stop us! We’re killing it up here! We’re going places, man!” I felt like we were storming something, but I’m not sure what.
October 25, Bowery Poetry Club
Page Meets Stage w/ Kevin Young, NY, NY
Whuppins
What the Black Poets Will Kill Me for Telling You
The Organist
To the High School Thug That Broke into His English Teacher's Car
How to Make a Crackhead
Aunties (by Kevin Young)
When Your White Friend Says “Nigger” by Accident
Mating Season
6 in the Morning
Kevin Young and I are the same age, and we write about many of the same things. Some people say there are moments when my tone hits right down the middle between us. I am glad to say that this is not by design - it’s just how I write - though he was influential for me in one key way that I did mention onstage:
There was a period of time when I was at a crossroads with my work as a black artist, when I had to decide if I would do what was clearly black work or not. Anyhow, I came across Kevin’s work and I said, “Now THAT’S how you approach blackness in poetry. He’s got the balance.” I didn’t cop his style or anything, but he made it okay in my mind to approach the subject matter of blackness unapologetically again, and really work to find a way to satisfy my art and myself. I forget how many years ago that was, but I’m glad it happened, and that was Kevin Young’s contribution to my development. It’s significant. There are a LOT of poems I would never have written going the other way, and none of the ones I would have written would have put me on stage with someone like Kevin Young now. So he was a real touchstone for me and it was more than an honor to be able to say that in front of him, to him.
Signing books for each other. We're fans!
I opened the first set, and I opted for “Whuppins”. My second one was a new piece, “What the Black Poets Will Kill Me for Telling You.” I made a point to mention that it wasn’t about all black poets…just the good ones. Once that kid glove was off, we were doing what he wrote in an email to Taylor he hoped would happen: we had a cuttin’ session.
Poem after poem after poem…goodness. He read so many of my favorites. I was nailing my performance voice. We were both in the zone, man.
We could NOT keep a straight face after the show for this shot.
During the second set Kevin read one of my poems - “How To Make a Juke Joint” - out of Watering Hole: Juke Joint Poems. I figured that whatever poem he picked of mine to read it would come out of that book. It really is the singular best book I’ve ever done so far, and it hits right down the middle of the kind of thing we both like to write about: black folks doing black things. Case in point, I performed his poem “Aunties”.
Click to viewI made a joke that white folks call them “aunts”. Kevin corrected me comically by changing the pronunciation to “ants”. We did this kind of thing the whole time, out loud and with our poems: digging.
He read out of his manuscript for his new book, and I can’t believe I didn’t ask him to take a look at it. What does he cut out of his poems, and why? Are they the same things I would cut? Smacking my head now. he emailed me back and said it was a second galley pass. So I guess I wasn't missing out on the WHOLE enchilada, but STILL.
Louise put together a new chapbook for me specifically for this gig called The New Black. It’s short, but it’s punchy, son. By the end of the show I had read the whole thing, which was my intention. It is exactly what it sounds like. I sold a lot of copies of it to a discerning audience. I am happy.
Hanging out afterward eating and talking shit was awesome. We talked a little about what I was doing and wanted to do. Families. Other poets. Magnifique. When we parted he jokingly said, “I feel like I’ve known you all my life.” Exactly.
This pairing was Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz’s idea well over a year ago and Taylor Mali’s tenacity made it a reality. I am indebted to them both beyond words.
I don't have a pic with Taylor because he charges $100 a snap. WhatEVER.