I enjoyed the first day of the new year, as I almost always do, at the Poetry Project's Marathon reading. However, this year I didn't volunteer and do the WHOLE thing, as I normally do. I was only there for about five hours.It was, as always, wonderful. A really special and unique, yet comfortingly familiar, ritual. All the usual suspects were there. The same mixture of genres, etc.
Some highlights: John S. Hall wrote a 13-ways-of-looking-at-a-blackbird poem about cat vomit that was brilliant and that captured the unpleasant minutiae of my life with wonderful poetic precision; I wish I had written it. A beautiful performance by Philip Glass. The musical and existential genius of Sparrow/Foamola (my favorite song was the one that discusses how easy it is to mend a shirt compared to darning a sock, described as one of the top three rock songs ever written about sewing). And a walkie-talkie poem performed by Brendan Lorber. Half the poem was read over and out on a walkie-talkie, and it was really terrifically effective. And many others, as well as many poets that I was disappointed to miss...
I bought two poetry books: The Origin of the World, by Lewis Warsh, which I'm already in love with, and Satellite by Matthew Rohrer, whose A Hummock in the Malookas I loved when it first came out.
Yes, I loved my new year. I truly did.
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