The Art of Spoken Words

W A L T Z - A S T O R I A

The Art of Spoken Words

poet, spoken word artist

Entomological catastrophes are rarely a source of poetic inspiration. Ditto Goldbach's prime number conjecture. Poet and spoken word artist Michele Battiste, however, is anything but a stodgy traditionalist. She is more likely to panegyrize her food processor than to lament the icy decisiveness of Death (the fact that one of her favorite hobbies is collecting epidemiological statistics on the world's major diseases notwithstanding). Her work is vivific, yet thoughtful; intellectual, yet sultry - one moment wizened and worldly, the next, purring with vernal allure. Additionally, Battiste's command of the English language is a marvel. Her verse is bursting with bewitching imagery and the rhythmic elegance of Latin jazz. And she can unfold a trope like a peacock's fan, revealing a staggering bounty of striking patterns and unexpected connections. As far as this (NY Times) critic is concerned, Battiste is a major talent. She's sure to become one of true luminaries of American poetry in the 21st century.

The open mic will begin at 7pm. Poems and stories are both welcome, but the time is limited to 5 minutes each. The featured reader will go on at approximately 7:30, and the open mic will resume at 8pm after a short break. Open mic readers will read in the order they signed up.

Please submit your name below:

The 20th gathering for THE ART OF SPOKEN WORDS series is going to take place on May 21st, 2007 at 7pm. Hosted by poet and spoken word artist Michele Battiste, the series will feature writters and poets of all ages and backgrounds, as well as showcasing aspiring amature writters.

Monday, 05/21/07, 8pm

No Cover, $5 Drink Minimum

Eliot Katz is the author of 5 books of poetry, including, most recently, WHEN THE SKYLINE CRUMBLES: POEMS FOR THE BUSH YEARS (Cosmological Knot Press, 2007), VIEW FROM THE BIG WOODS: POEMS FROM NORTH AMERICA'S SKULL (Cosmological Knot Press, 2007), and UNLOCKING THE EXITS (Coffee House Press, 1999). A cofounder with Danny Shot of LON SHOT literary journal, he guest-edited the journal's 2004 "Beat Bush Issue." Katz is also a coeditor, with Allen Ginsberg and Andy Clausen, of POEMS FOR THE NATION (Seven Stories Press). Called "another classic New Jersey bard" by Ginsberg, Katz worked for many years as a housing advocate for Central Jersey homeless families. He currently lives in Astoria, and works as a freelance writer and editor. His poems can be found on the online Museum of American Poetics at www.poetspath.com/exhibits/eliotkatz.

CAN WE HAVE SOME PEACE AND QUIET PLEASE?

The belligerent voices are yelling in the streets

& on the radios calling for the big bombs of peace

to fall, the smart bombs, the bombs that have passed

their college entrance exams. It's Orwellian the way

everyone claims Orwell for their side--these days

everyone is fighting on behalf of Orwell and God.

Years ago Don Rumsfeld & Saddam Hussein met in

the corner & exchanged secret diplomatic handshakes--

it is only after peacefull gestures like these that the missiles

can fly. In the mean time, the time between the world

mean as is and the world we mean to become,

the endless rains are Yehuda Amichai's tears watching men

still violently beating their swords into plowshares and back

into rifles & remote-control fighter planes. On the corner

of Spring & Broadway, a taxicab driver threw a baby lamb

out the passenger-side window--everyone in a two-block radius

ran away screaming. In New York City the yelling is

so loud and the quiet so quiet that everyone I know, just below

the surface, is scared out their wits, knowing the violence

these days that can follow an apparent peace. They are calling

Senators with empathetic American voices, urging earthly

generosity and kindness, which the corporate media & our

elected leaders interpret as a vote for pre-emptive strikes.

The next century's gods have not yet been born and the last

century's are no longer able to show a child the simple

magic trick of pulling its fingers away from a newly lit flame.