Mature Poetic Content: If you think this shouldn’t exist here in this site, well… sorry, but this site switched tracks long ago. You just didn’t know it.
When I see a recitation
from a poet
I want to intervene
Drag him into a street fight
Crack a crutch
across his head
Well, I think I’ve just been punched in the mouth. Wouldn’t have it any other way. I keep looking for mean mad poets. This guy’s one I think. He’s doing his Beatles impersonation on a frozen roof in Philadelphia and he’s wearing purple. He seems to be someone who could knock me down and I’d know I’d been treated gently. This guy’s poetry sounds wicked and mad and full of love at the same time. It’s the kind of thing I’d read over and over again. His poetry is like something he’d say in a room without thinking much about it. I love the thing about Poe and his bones and Frank answering in a different voice at the 10:50 mark. Ha ha! Love that. That’s what it’s all about isn’t it? Saying it back as if you’re the guy. It’s how you travel in time and make magic happen. It’s the hidden art. I know a lot about that poem. So, okay, there’s a poet in Philadelphia who’s not afraid of the snow and keeps a fur hat on top of his head. I’ll be looking for this guy and reading his books. He’s CAConrad. You can buy his The Book of Frank here.
I found this via the ever-pernicious Silliman’s Blog.