The Wages of Moonlight: A Bio of Sorts, An Upcoming Reading

Here's my take on the stale, old "artist's" questions I was asked to provide answers to for my upcoming livestream from the Green Kill Gallery in Kingston, NY, August 12 at 8:00 pm:

The Wages of Moonlight

I first saw myself around the age of four. We lived in the first floor of a house in Wyandanch. There was a broken-down pavilion in the yard that we were warned to stay away from. I drank the last drops of soda syrup from bottles waiting by the back door to be returned. 

I am compelled to recall the past in fits and starts. Like those drips of soda syrup, the past returns with some effort, and little welcome. 

The artist who comes back to me again and again these days is Anna Held. A brief flash in the early 1900s, her star was polished by Ziegfeld, but she was the one who shone. A powerful Jewish refugee who adopted the persona of a Parisian coquette, she died at 46 of a rare disorder we still have no cure for. 

I am supported by those ancient stars, paid to excess by the moon and her fickle appearances. Support comes first from within. If there is any applause about, enjoy it for what it is—the current phase of consent. 

In the last few months, convention as we know it has been upended. I long to return to that broken-down pavilion of the past, stepping carefully around floorboards that will bear no weight. I long for the trumpet vines and moonflowers that surely by now have created the only roof it ever needed. I long for the sweetness of soda syrup, dappled with impurities, from bottles beside the tin milk box. I long for the milkman and his shiny white slacks. 

Upon waking, I immediately miss the moon, no matter her demeanor of the night before. I rush to the bathroom, and am not ashamed of it. Any who pretend otherwise are invoking a false narrative. 

Art is a sign of society. Without it we are beasts, tearing our masks off in a crowded Walmart, lengthening the stay of immoral diseases by kisses of black dust. 

The act of creation offers me clarity, not intoxication. I am reassured that I am still connected to the segment of humanity that has both feet in the dirt and eyes in the stars.

To preregister, here's the link: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/live-stream-august-12-8-pmmike-jurkovic-guy-reed-cheryl-a-rice-tickets-115417299249. I'll be reading with Guy Reed and Mike Jurkovic. The take will be split between the poets and the venue.

**FLYING MONKEY TOUR SCHEDULE 2013**

     Above is from the 2013 edition of the Albany Wordfest open mic in April. Beside me are Albany's Poetry Diva, Mary Panza, and my brother and fellow poet Mike Jurkovic.

 

     Spring has sprung for sure, and with it, a few invites to read in the Hudson Valley. Since I've cut way back on actually attending open mics, it will be a treat to return to these venues. I have yet to visit the College of Poetry (really more a state of mind than an actual edifice) in their new digs in Sugar Loaf, so looking forward to that. Only heard my brother Mike Jurkovic read a couple months ago in Poughkeepsie, but skipped the open mic. We'll see how the season rolls. Drop me a line if you need directions, etc.  Would be nice to see you again. 

 

*June 1- "Poetry as Memoir" workshop, 10a-12noon, College of Poetry, Sugar Loaf, NY

*June 3- Feature at Harmony, 8p, Woodstock, NY, with Open Mic

*June 14- Feature at Mezzaluna, 7p, Saugerties, NY, with Open Mic

*June 20- Feature at Adriance Library, 7p, Poughkeepsie, NY, with Open Mic

*July 13- Feature at Woodstock Poetry Society, 2p, Woodstock, NY

**Town Versus Gown: Academic and "Street" Poets**

Last week, a friend of mine was featured reading his poetry on a local radio station, along with a professor from one of the area colleges. Mike Jurkovic has no college under his belt that I'm aware of, but 25+ years of fairly technical experience at Cosmodemonic Communications. The professor's work I am aware of, but I don't know him personally. The contrast in style was striking and as most poets know, there is something of a split in the poetry community between those with schooling and those who are driven to express themselves in words without a formal education. Generally, I can see the positive attributes to both types of writing, but personally my taste does lean towards the so-called "street" poets.

            Luckily, none of the poets I know who might fit into that category actually live on the street or spend most of their time there. Their poems can often be grammatically incorrect, or the meanings of words bent or broken, depending on how much they rely on computer thesauruses. One can be critical of these flaws, or accept them as part of the creative process. I can only completely do that if I know the poet made those choices to err consciously and deliberately. I still believe in proper grammar and usage because they are elements that make the language common to all of us-- the level playing field on which we all interact.

            Academic poetry (for lack of a better term-- I see Mark Doty has recently taken exception to it, but until the lines become blurred, if ever, it will be the one I choose) has a tendency to rely too much on form, in my opinion. The lines are carefully crafted, with rhymes and rhythms perfectly assembled. More often than not, however, I find the overall effect of such poetry gutless. It rarely soars for me. There are exceptions of course, but I am speaking now of my personal experience with poets in my immediate radar. The chances that street poets take in content, metaphor and vocabulary interest me far more than the level, sanitary structures that are the rule and not the exception from the Ivory Tower.

            I think perhaps the two groups could benefit from more exchange. The street poets could only make their work stronger by nailing down the basics of grammar, spelling and usage. Then variations would be deliberate choices for effect and not accidents. The benefits to academics would be less precise, but no less valuable. The subjects that street poets write about are far more wide ranging than those of the academic. Opening up to that expanded realm of possibility can only enrich their work.

           

            Writing is a solitary activity. Going out to open mics and hearing other poets from anywhere is always a broadening experience, even if you don't connect, even if you don't like what they have to say or the way they say it. Reading big and small publishers and going online, where many of the little magazines are migrating to because of economics, helps to remind us why we all do this. We are trying to communicate our feelings, our thoughts and our observations. The language that we are using, whether flawed or stilted, isn't really all that different when it comes down to it. Listen beyond the words, read between the lines. Go to the streets and climb the Tower. It will be an adventure, at the very least.