Public Poetry

Public Poetry Winter Series 2017

Saturday, January 7, 2017 | 2 PM
Morris Frank Library an HPL Express Location 10103 Fondren, Brays Oaks Tower Building, 77096

Stephanie Bension 

You didn’t think I’d let it go, didn’t think I’d jump off the cliff / I no longer want you to catch me, just let me enjoy the drift / Straight to the bottom, can’t be any different than where I already am.

 

From DNR


Chris Brunt

Everything in its reverse — / the April trees wake up with red and crumbling buds. / The field mouse chases the cat through the grass which bends / the wind which shaves the mountain which smears / its pigment through the sky.

 

From All About Shadows


Adam Holt 

The Bayou City drizzle - glazes / another century’s windows. /The drooping glass tenuously holds /the rain at bay from drenching / the concrete floor of a warehouse, / where metal beams cross the ceiling / and drive jagged holes into bare brick walls.

From Through a Window Through a Poem


Paul Klinger

I had hoped to make an alphabet of teeth, all the forms resting in boxes suggested it, as the roots of teeth bend in ways that suggest meanings / can be distinguished. The linguistic capabilities of a carnassial or incisor

 

From (Untitled)


Saturday, February 2, 2017 | 2 PM

Morris Frank Library an HPL Express Location 10103 Fondren, Brays Oaks Tower Building, 77096

Carolyn Dahl

The restaurant roars like buffalos breaking / free of nickels. Though the room is flambé/hot, our tongues stick to the iced glasses,/ and conversation labors as if air/ has to be borrowed from libraries.

 

From First Date


Jeremy Eugene

"Good Morning Class”/And they rearrange their desks / turntheir backs to the board/ to continue long-standing relationships / they’ve built with failure,/ kissing it open-mouth all 45 minutes of class / fridges bare of everything but trouble magnets.” 

From Swallow the Sun


Octavio Quintinilla

Take care of them. If they want water, / Dump them in the river. If they crave / Freedom, let them loose among rattlesnakes. / If they want to breathe, let them breathe dust. / /Let the desert mouse nest in their white bones. / Give them shelter with your greed. With your rape.

From Sonnet for Human Smugglers


Analicia Sotelo

The smell of lard and corn is in the air. / I am five years old in the front yard / with the bougainvillea. My father / never remembers me, but I can see him / in the sky, in the negative space

 

From My Father & Dali Do Not Agree


Saturday, March 4, 2017 | 2 PM

Morris Frank Library an HPL Express Location 10103 Fondren, Brays Oaks Tower Building, 77096

David Glen-Smith

As a start point: the cradle crescent. / The boy. The bridge with barn / swallows building their mud/ nests. Clusters of new moons / joined as a hive, endless flights / arcing across and under the / other — in the back back seat, the boy / asleep unaware of his world

From Saint Brendan and the Nordic Moon


Vincent ‘BlackBluez’ Johnson

Tongue salivating for recipes / That denial has mixed for danger / She just wanted to savor the sweetness of being skinny /Determined to shed every extra pound / So she just gulped a burp for dinner /And swallowed her spit to wash it down

From Dying to Be Thin


Varsha Saraiya-Shah

I arrived at the port of angels with a trousseau / of silk saris and blouses, a rolling pin / and round board just like mother’s to make rotis, containers / of spices like asafetida and fenugreek, home-ground / cumincoriander / I may not find in my new homeland.

From A Still Life


Ronnie Yates

Indians suck jalapeños forcing thirst / to survive desert hallucinations. / I only endure bits in salad. / How brave I am to bite into what burns me. / How weak I am to acquiesce into your arms.

 

From Thermodynamics