Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Alex M. Frankel - Featured by Village Poets on June 23, 2013

Village Poets will present the next Monthly Poetry Reading at Bolton Hall Museum (10110 Commerce Avenue, Tujunga, CA 91342) on June 23, 2013 with Featured Poet, Alex M. Frankel. It appears we want to feature all hosts of poetry readings in Southern California. 

So far we presented: Debbie Kolodji (Southern California Haiku Study Group at Pacific Asia Museum), Rick Lupert (Cobalt Cafe), R. Murray Thomas (Barnes and Noble, Long Beach), Don Kingfisher Campbell (Emerging Urban Poets, Pasadena's Catalina Library), Elena Secota (Rapp Saloon), Alice Pero and Lois P. Jones (Moonday East and Moonday West), Xochitl Julisa Bermejo (Beyond Baroque's Splinter Generation), Kathabela Wilson and Rick Wilson (Poets on Site readings and events, in Pasadena, Torrance, and elsewhere), and others. 

On Sunday, June 23 at 4:30 p.m. we will present poet and host of the famous Cafe Alibi Readings in Pasadena, Alex M. Frankel. The Village Poets Reading will also include two open mike segments and refreshments. The old hat of George Harris (who built Bolton Hall 100 years ago) will be passed around for donations to support our historic venue, City of Los Angeles Historic Monument No. 2. 


Alex M. Frankel was born in San Francisco in 1960.  He went to Columbia and studied with Kenneth Koch and lived in Spain for many years. Now he teaches at Cal State LA. His chapbook is called My Father's Lady, Wearing Black

He will have a full-length book out later this year, called Birth Mother Mercy.  His book reviews now appear regularly in The Antioch Review. He's been nominated by Judith Hall for "Best New Poet" for his poem "SoccerStud16 I Need to Leave This World Come Back as You."  

Nine Hundred Thousand Legs to Waterloo

Alex M. Frankel

Drab fury of trains.
Three hundred and forty-four thousand bodies
are being pressed into the Underground.
There are severe delays on the Picadilly Line.
There is a good service on all other lines.
and men and women rushing toward
men and women, a few falling.
Not one face like yours
and liquid Prozac on my jeans,
stains, stickiness. Warmth
of forty-four thousand travelers.
Eddie Jay Santos:
your brown skin
your young hands,
you did not like your hands.
Please keep your belongings safe.
The fine eyebrows and teeth.
Pickpockets operate at this station.
The steady, noxious watchfulness
of the surveillance cameras,
my jeans stained with Prozac,
juicy and pleasant.
Fifty thousand five hundred bodies
collected and expectant.
Would customers please use
the full length of the platform
to avoid congestion at the platform entrances.
Samoans with British accents:
it shouldn’t be allowed,
they should be speaking Samoan
or regular American.
There are severe delays on the Picadilly Line.
There is a good service on all other lines.
Six thousand people reading about knife crime.
Eddie: you left
and you never left.
The free paper says Pakistani youths
fight with knives.
Seventy-five thousand men, women and animals
are fighting
to reach Leicester Square.
Eddie: twice nearly expelled
from Hollywood High
for fighting.
A hundred bodies packed
into a single “carriage.”
Several grey men hunger
for a fragrant South Asian.
Your tattooed, hard arms
your stubby little hands.
This is Westminster.
Please change here for the Circle Line 
and the District Line.
Your fresh-smelling t-shirts
your cologne
your rugged tattoo soaking up
my spinster sperm.
Another tunnel.
Americans should not say “cheers”
when they mean “thank you”!
The next tunnel is terribly smelly.
Travelers can’t stop looking
at a Turk.
The smelly tunnel leads
to a long, smelly tunnel.
Please stand to the right
when using the escalators.
Eddie Jay: your naïve, unkind face
your thumbs efficient and alive
on your little keypad.
and wind.
Any unattended bag
or other item of luggage
will be removed 
and may be destroyed.
And not one grey hair
skin around your eyes alarmingly fresh
your lips and tongue hardworking
on my nipples—
if you had charged three hundred a night
I would’ve paid you
I would pay three hundred
for a single word from you now. . .
This is a security announcement.
Eight hundred and one
stale, stiff people
are trying to rush for their trains
in the warm wind
in the narrow white passageways
under London.


Here are some pictures from the Judith Terzi reading in May 2013. She charmed and inspired us with her wit, intelligence and sensitivity. 

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