larrywinfield.com: CTR Reviews
City Table Review Archive - page 2






From Summer 2000:

Thaw - Noam Paco Gaster
Scandalous - Edith A. Giles
An Invitation, poems by Susanna Lang
possibilities, a book of poems by Karen Stockwell





Thaw

Noam Paco Gaster

A Parenthetical Nomad Press, 1998


Noam didn't have a bio in his book, but all who know and love him have seen his unfettered and imaginative performances at many open mics and poetry happenings in town, as well as his 'POW' hosting stint at the Morseland (look for him at the Bucktown Arts Fest and Around the Coyote). I believe this is his first book.

I like the unstapled, intentionally low tech design of Thaw, the rawness adding to the character of some of the poems selected - visceral stream-of-consciousness pieces, late night interludes with cops, and surrealistic memories of consuming and being consumed before bed.

Noam delves into aspects of his sexuality without using the heavy hand of political correctness; he's just talking about his life. In Green Spit and Rattlesnake Salad , he tells of recognizing a fatal attraction who steps onto an 'L' train, just looking into the eyes, seeing the smile and knowing that it would be glorious and searing, but just the same he keeps his head down and fights the urge. Waiter with a Hard-On talks of the daily grind colliding with your dreams, of times when just sex isn't enough and unforced conversation is the ideal. The three part Quest for the Dream Other opens up infatuations past (a crush on Jason, the 2nd grade rebel), a strange dream invaded by an erotic epiphany that flows into an almost declaration of love, and a moment of quiet possibilities among pizza and beer stench, William Burroughs being the conduit between two scrawny bodies that don't belong anywhere, yet.

The printed page doesn't do Noam's poetry justice, but here's a sample:

in my head,
there's a girl squeezing multicolored
ooze out of a ketchup bottle onto her...
nipples winding it around and then out, the
girl's nipples activating themselves like
crazy, some kind of tiny super-sensitive
Anthills. And meanwhile there's a heart
caught scrunched up and mashed in between
molars like that caraway seed from your rye
toast that's pinched up against your gums
and you just can't seem for the life of you to
get it out.




Scandalous

Edith A Giles

manuscript, 2000



Edith Giles is a local writer who is currently seeing the world courtesy of the Navy. She has a B.A. in Fashion Design from the International Academy of Merchandizing and Design and began writing poetry in December 1995 when she debuted in the open mic at Lit-X when it was in Wicker Pk. This is her second book.
Scandalous comes with an 'Adults Only!' warning with poems of stark imagery, sexual fantasies, celebrations of nights spent on a dance floor and rough pillow talk. She blasts men who talk long and strong but come up short in performance:



See, 45 seconds of pumping is just not
my idea of a good fuck.
...I mean, GODDAM!
If I wanted a quickie, I would have stayed
home and did the shit myself.
At least then I know I would have been
satisfied.


She also talks of one-night stands that don't last the night and lavishes praise on Latin men:



Ay Papi, yo quiero pinga grande!...
I wanna be with you, my Esai Morales,
my Ricky Martin,
my Marc Anthony
my Papo Sanchez,
my fine, young, sweet lover.
My hot Latin man.
my fine, young, sweet lover.
My hot Latin man.


Many of her poems hide intense feeling behind her plain-spoken, conversational style, though some skirt the implications of the subject matter. The "menage a trios" poems, for example, don't really get under the skin of the experience, they only describe the physical mechanics of the sex. I got the feeling that she'd thought about threesomes, but she hadn't felt the fantasy in her gut. A Hell Of A Mouthpiece covers her reaction to seeing human flotsam on the Jerry Springer show, but it only conveys her visceral reaction and disgust as an audience member. More effective are the pieces known and loved by regulars on the scene such as Queen Treatment, The Morning After, and Why Women Don't Give Blow Jobs:



...1. Some men don't wash their ass.
...2. Some men don't give queen treatment
...3. Some men talk too much!
...4. Sometimes we women just don't feel like it.


concise and to the point.





An Invitation

poems by Susanna Lang

The Paper Bag Press, 2000


Susanna Lang lives in Chicago with her husband and son.She has received an Illinois Arts Council Literary Award for a poem published in The Spoon River Poetry Review. Other poems, essays and translations from the French have appeared in such journals as Kalliope, Sport Literate, Southern Poetry Review, World Literature Today, Chicago Review, and Whetstone. Book publications include translations of Words in Stone and The Origin of Language, both by Yves Bonnefoy. In addition to writing, she teaches at Thurgood Marshall Middle School in Chicago.

At first glance you might classify these as nature poems, but no, the dozen pieces here read like a personal journal of Susanna's life on a farm, with it's quiet conversational moments others easily overlook. The poems are softly spoken and, well, inviting: throwing open the doors on a glorious day and watching nature invade; keeping vigil over the family inside the calmness of the house as a storm rages; Seeing life and death up close, in addition to experiencing solitary moments of perfect beauty. Farm life also means agriculture, nature being wrestled with, and the accompanying complications:


The air is thick with poison here
where orchards line the roads, it clouds
the fruit the farmer's left still hanging...

...At home,
we wash them twice, three times, the fruit
so ready that our mouths are aching
to have done. No sign of poison's left
but every night a fog goes hunting
round the hills and hill-bound trees.

With some poems, more is going on between the lines than on the page - September Journal , for all its surface description of a garden beginning the autumn decline, evoked in me the hint of sadness that creepsin at the end of summer, becoming a forced witness to the earth's cyclical change, and its reminder of our own physical and spiritual changes (and the irony of the earth getting a rebirth in spring while we just get bigger or older).

And there's nothing wrong with a little nostalgia - the last poem, Helicopters, brings us back to childhood memories, brings out the child who jumps off the porch to play:


Now when it's evening the fireflies
dance in the late summer heat,
in thew wind that stirs through the maple,
stirs through the murmuring years.




possibilities

a book of poems by Karen Stockwell

West Walker Press, 1998



Karen Stockwell, a native Chicagoan, is a trained visual artist witn a M.A. in Art History, Theory, and Criticism from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. Creative writing was an early interest that she returned to in March 1996. During April 1997 she did her first open mike. Subsequently, she has appeared on the cable access series Touch of a Poet in Berkeley, California, and on cable access in Glenview, Illinois with the Writers Unlimited group. Her most frequent venue in Chicago has been Café Aloha, where she's appeared as a featured reader.

There are no pyrotechnics in this handsome book. No hip, catchy, postmodern / millennial performance stylings either. The poems are carefully constructed, traveling the introspective roads taken by many a writer when exploring the aspects of one's own voice. The illustrations scattered throughout are a nice touch as well, unobtrusive sketches adding to the overall design.

The book's title is an interesting choice - possibilities, things seen, quiet moments. An ember of dying sunlight grabbing you in a stairway during a hurried day; an office worker escaping the treated air for a few minutes of the real world, lush and hot; reading poems late at night:


 I sip mango tea          
and read poetry                     
       from New York.        

I hear your snore          
across the hall.          
You, so frustrated lately          
because when you read,                     
       you fall asleep.          

My eyes will be wearier          
than yours tomorrow,          
but New York rhythm          
is keeping them open                    
       tonight.


In a few poems I picked up the sense of their being too controlled, of emotions (and the more visceral words that accompany them) restrained and held off the page. Watermark is about the inevitable scars that results when love crashes and burns, but I didn't get the intensity of the love that died or why hope for reconciliation still exists:

Even when I gaze into a mirror
I behold your somber legacy,
a weariness within my grieving eyes,
because beneath my cold and frozen heart
a faint flame still is waiting your return.


Leaving in a little messy emotion to be experienced rather than neatly described would add to the pictures being painted by Karen. I look forward to seeing and hearing more of her work for the further changes to her voice.







Winter 2000:

On an Irish Country Road - Daniel Cleary
The Demented Kewpie Doll's Manifesto - Kate Cullan
Plainfield Follies - Lee Kitzis
Thought Bombs #12


On an Irish Country Road

Daniel Cleary

2000, Self Published


Daniel Cleary was born in Tipperary, Ireland and grew up there. In the early sixties he moved to London, where he worked and studied art. In the late sixties he moved to Chicago. A passionate and devoted painter of oils and acrylics, he has been shown at a number of art festivals, including Around the Coyote, and he is a wonderful singer. I've known Daniel since my early days in the local poetry scene in the early nineties. He has a previously published book of poetry, The Green Ribbon, available through Enright House of Ireland (distributed by Puddin'Head Press)

On an Irish Country Road isn't an arranged and assembled collection of poems - the book is a single lyrical poem with a verse centered on each page. You can almost hear him reading the flowing lines that carry you along. The book has the feel of a preamble to a longer epic or fable, introducing the hero and setting him at the beginning.


Do not adventures start like this:
(Or used to, maybe once, in books.)
To find what may be called his bliss,
With nothing else but his good looks,
Turning his back on friends and home,
The hero setting out alone?


Instead of pulling individual verses out of context in a lame attempt to analyze them, here are my reflections of the verses as I read the book. Daniel's writing is much better:

I don't know why I go, but I'm ready
to set out,
open to what awaits
in the calm stillness around me
that includes nature's music
as well as the mundane noises
of a roadside farm,
hearing a distant call
that I willingly answer,
not stopping for pleasant diversions
or other creatures' daydreams,
or even another, passing the time on the same road,
though I'll nod or greet, and perhaps hear a tale not before told.
What peace and calm one finds on this road,
where the barrier between this world and the next can seem so thin,
that we feel its presence as we stroll.
Perhaps the doorway is right here, or just a little further on,
as time slips delicately away...

Isn't this how adventures begin, or used to?


"In Ireland this world
and the world we go to after death
are not far apart."

W B Yeats





The Demented Kewpie Doll's Manifesto

Kate Cullan

2000, Self Published


Kate Cullan is one of Chicago's newest poets. She moved here in 1998 to pursue a career in improvisation and stand up comedy. In the fall of '99, she attended "Shag's Little Thing" open mic (at Phyllis' Musical Inn) and read some of her 'serious' poems as a lab experiment. When they got more laughs than her comedy bits, she decided to add poetry to her performance art repertoire. Kate can now be seen regularly at various open mics in Chicago. This is her first book of poetry.

Thank God my first grade teacher
sold my Ritalin!
Thank you Mrs. S. for making sure I
didn't become a normal human being
who did't get enough sex!
Welcome to my liquid world!
Once you've stayed awhile, you'll
understand that reality is a nice place
to visit, but I don't want to live there.

The woman in these poems and journal entries doesn't ask for sympathy or offer excuses for her lifestyle (and what the hell does that word mean anymore), though I suspect this is an instruction manual Kate may have wished she'd had ahead of time. As she states clearly: "...instead of writing a pompous book about my lame life as a hyperactive slut, I decided to write about the experiences I have when I'm dealing with you."

The design of this little book is cool. A local printer, Loki Graphics, put out a limited edition of 50, sprinkled with surreal, mythological illustrations that add to the cast of characters - evil, neurotic mommies, ex-friends and crushes, prom dates and meet market denizens, an ode to Janis Joplin, rutting desire made manifest, and dirt explaining itself:

Someday I'll be a flower,
But not today.
I am not a flower,
I am DIRT!!!
My body is a wet playground for frogs
who don't become princes.
I'm fun to play with at an abandoned
construction site at 3AM
but heaven forbid my residue be
under your nails
when you shake hands with your boss.

Kate may be relatively new to the local poetry scene, but she fits right in. Her writing follows the long Chicago tradition of saloon/street verse that is honest and direct and cuts through the bullshit. If she's out of copies, get her to print some more.




Plainfield Follies

Lee Kitzis

2000, Writers Club Press


Lee Kitzis is a young poet who's definitely been around. He first read at Fitzgerald's open mic at 14; at 15 he edited the Anti-Mensch anthologies published by Puddin'Head Press, with cover art by Skip Williamson. In August 1997 he was the publisher and contributing editor of Beat Street Tales: A 'Zine for the Beat Scene. Encouraged by the personal correspondence and support of William S. Burroughs, Mr. Kitzis has been a prolific author, with poems published in many independent periodicals, including two issues of Flipside magazine. He is currently a student at Columbia College in Chicago.

Plainfield Follies is the first half of a two book volume (the second part, Israel To Prague Poems, will be reviewed in a future edition - Ed). The poems were written at Goddard College in Plainfield, Vermont, in Philadelphia, in Montreal, in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, and Ocean City, New Jersey.

The impression I get from Kitzis' poetry is immediate wordplay conveying experience, memory and sensation through the surface density of tightly controlled lines plunging down the center of the page, in stream-of-consciousness descriptive travelogue or disjointed haiku. Some of the poems at first glance seem to exist merely on the surface, more for the ear than the eye (an easy and common dismissal of most contemporary 'performance poetry' as opposed to 'academic' verse), but look again - these aren't dashed off first drafts, and the reader can't passively sit back awaiting a magic carpet ride of hallucinatory language:


The streetlights
are Gods winking
at me off of Whitman
bridge and creating
two moons in the
corner of my mind...
...I'm viewing
the night as
pure poetry
while walking
through the
testosterone
minefields
of the after-hours
boardwalk

and I view
Corso at the
same exact
time and moment...
...the waves
sound like
traffic

the frightened
crab skips
by
and everything
melts
into
one


Plainfield Follies has a nice blend of non-travelers' poems mixed in with the love poem to Montreal, memories of the White Mountains, of Philadelphia, Chicago and Lee's hometown of Oak Park - "Sexbomb" is a tribute to Joanna Marshall; "The Dawn O' Gone" observes daybreak with bop pretensions; "Poem for the Keys" rhapsodizes Lee's old Classic 12 typewriter; "Poem for Cannonball Addderley" is short and sweet jazz verse:

Cannonball! explode
in mind blowin' brilliance
and be Buddha all's sure and
well on the horn

Cannonball! why did women
and wine make you so crazy
and why don't you play without
your pants on I can see you catching
every note in the breeze


Crash Crash biddidibopbang
bebop Boom n' Bash

Oh mercy mercy mercy
Cannonball

This is a beautifully produced softcover book put out by an outfit I never heard of, www.iuniverse.com. Check 'em out.




Thought Bombs # 12

Published by Anthony R. Rayson
(South Chicago ABC Zine Distro)


Shortly after the publication of the Spring 2000 issue of CTR (containing the interview with local anarchist and poet Joffre Stewart), I received a letter from Chicago area anarchist and zine publisher Anthony R. Rayson, along with a copy of Thought Bombs # 12. In his critique of the interview, he stated that while he finds Joffre kindly and intelligent, he feels that Mr. Stewart is a "determined obstructionist who lives to disrupt gatherings with his rude and often racist (anti-Jewish) ramblings." "Confusing, racist, off the wall poetry and rants are not what anarchism is all about," Rayson writes. "Anarchism is clearsighted analysis, genuine committed useful activism, solidarity, work, cooperation, mutual aid, etc." While Rayson disagrees with efforts to ban Joffre from events, he calls for challenging Mr. Stewart with a genuinely anarchist, anti-racist response. "I consider myself a 'pure' anarchist and not fixated on the evils of Zionism...I am fighting on many fronts and am a dedicated organizer / propagandist."

[OK, that was the letter; now to the zine...]

Thought Bombs is an ongoing anarchist zine written and published by Mr. Rayson, a founder and member of SCAN (South Chicago Anarchist Network). Number 12 is called "The Poké-Mon Issue" (cool cover illustration by Rayson's son, Stanton). Here's a South Chicago ABC Zine Distro catalog description of the issue, written by Rayson:

'This baby starts out with an anarchist analysis of how children are (mis)treated in this sick society, followed by a lengthy interview of me by Turkish anarchists. The Seattle events are touched upon and Jane Howarth talks about the genocide in Iraq. Jane Doe talks about "The Media and True Crime" and our College of Complexes address on prison abolition is included. Artwork by Stanton and material from my 70's zine "Peoples' Polar Express" are added. Other goodies and surprises'

Now, about those goodies...

The inside cover has a nicely written piece called "The Thrill of Life" - bounding out of bed, laughing, putting on some music and blasting it, hugging your children and involving them in your mania, living your life with no regard for the evil authorities...

There are political cartoons and illustrations throughout the zine, satirizing the cynicism of the World Trade Organization; showing genetically modified maize growing in Argentina, which reminded me of the "Frankenfood" corn products that happened to slip past agribusiness regulators and make it into processed foodstuff for human consumption; a Reuters photo of Seattle police using tear gas, pepper gas and rubber pellets on peaceful demonstrators; page 31 mentions Garrett A. Morgan, the black man who invented the gas mask and the automatic traffic signal; excellent illustrations on page 56 of a Neo-Nazi getting stomped and the anarchy dog (ˇYo Quiero ANARCHY!) pissing out the clear message 'Your Politics Suck!', followed by a disturbing, but not surprising, piece written by Michael Bernard, co-founder of STAND (Shut This Airport Nightmare Down), "Do We Live In A Free Society?":

2. You have the freedom of having your car confiscated for playing loud music...
4. You have the freedom to be searched and detained and beaten, if you question such action, because you look "suspicious."...
6. You have the freedom to be shot by the government, for having a cell phone in your hand...
7. You have the freedom to have your door kicked in by police, for not letting the government inspect your house...
10. You have the freedom to have your children taken away on an anonymous tip that you are a bad parent...
16. You have the freedom to be arrested for theft for picking wild berries on the side of the road because that's government property...
17. My favorite: your house, car, food and fuel seized. You will be told where to start walking by FEMA, all legal through executive order, signed by our president. Heil Clintler!

To get your own copy of Thought Bombs, contact South Chicago ABC Zine Distro, PO Box 721, Homewood, IL., 60430.







From Spring 2001:

Bucket of Questions - Chuck Perkins
Israel To Prague Poems - Lee Kitzis
Erzulie - Larry Winfield




Bucket of Questions

Chuck Perkins

Self-Produced CD (On Track/Que Studios), 2000



Chuck Perkins was born and raised in New Orleans and has lived in Chicago since 1992. He has performed at the National Black Theater of Harlem, the Chicago Museum of Contemporary Art, the Chicago Cultural center, the Field Museum of Natural History and a host of bookstores and coffeeshops. As a national poetry slam competitor, Chuck finished in the semi-finals as an individual in 1996 and as a team member in 1998. In 1999, he and Sheila Donohue co-emceed the National Poetry Slam held at the Chicago Theater. Chuck's work can be read in Kente Cloth, Southwest Voice of the African Diaspora, The Oyez Review, and on the Guidance records compilation CD Voices of Urban Renewal. He can be seen most Sunday evenings at the Green Mill in Chicago.

Bucket of Questions was recorded at Que Studios in a poetry venue setting, an interesting alternative from the usual spoken word studio treatment. The live interaction between poet and audience, along with the preface Chuck gives each poem makes for a more intimate experience as the words wash over you. Chuck's performing style is clear, declarative and conversational. He tells stories, not merely to entertain, but to expose - his fears, his informed anger, his contradictions, the age-old whirlwind of pressures imposed by this schizophrenic society, the self-destructive cycles we keep falling into. The poems delve into the dichotomy of existence as a black man in the modern world, still dealing with the bullshit schism of being black and being American; sometimes ignoring the beauty of everyday things for what is packaged and sold; transporting you to the non-romantic ritual of a young man's jazz funeral in New Orleans, or the disrespect of scholarship in quarters of poor and black communities, the 'crabs in a bucket' cliche acted out on street corners every day. In other poems, Chuck remembers the love that exists in black neighborhoods, the sentiment that the media glosses over because it doesn't serve the agenda of negative propaganda (how many times have the same tired-ass "Cops" episodes been shoved across the TV screen?).

The title poem also deals with the unease, the inconsistencies that threaten to engulf us, the 'education' that's often poorly disguised propaganda:


...I was given the answers
before I was old enough to ask the questions
I defended the answers
before I was wise enough to confirm them.

reciprocal love made me a charlatan....

...resilient answers from the other side of the door
escape through the cracks
I reach for my weapon of choice
the sharp edge of my reasoning
will glide through a wrong answer
like hot piss in the snow
but many times my blade comes back dull..

To pick up a copy of BOQ, catch Chuck at The Green Mill, or contact: PO Box 580298, Pleasant Prarie, WI., 53158-5021




Israel to Prague Poems

Lee Kitzis

Writers Club Press, 2000



Lee Kitzis is a young poet who's definitely been around. He first read at Fitzgerald's open mic at 14; at 15 he edited the Anti-Mensch anthologies published by Puddin'Head Press, with cover art by Skip Williamson. In August 1997 he was the publisher and contributing editor of Beat Street Tales: A 'Zine for the Beat Scene. Encouraged by the personal correspondence and support of William S. Burroughs, Mr. Kitzis has been a prolific author, with poems published in many independent periodicals, including two issues of Flipside magazine. He is currently a student at Columbia College in Chicago.

Israel To Prague Poems is the second half of Lee's two book volume published by Writer's Club Press. This book should really be titled Prague To Israel Poems; the poems begin in eastern Europe and flow to the Middle East - in Prague, the blended old world and old industry city where Holocaust ghosts mingle with the long lost Czech Republic in the Jewish Quarter; where he hears 'Route 66' and is reminded of the universal reach of American culture; where he feels like a true foreigner or "an old intrigued Neruda" as a waitress bustles about in the Grand Hotel.

Prague is
a city of echoes

clouds rain lightly
in spurts
when God weeps

Lee moves westward to Tel Aviv, cosmopolitan mother land. He encounters jazz flowing in the streets of Jerusalem, across the mountaintops and over the Western wall, the complete bop heard 'round the world. I wonder how much of this spirit still exists in the wake of the stepped-up violence that has shattered the uneasy Israeli/Palestinian peace and the new political situation. There's an underlying and deeper vein of emotion in these poems, a feel of pilgrimage, particulalry in "July Night in Macabiam". I've had that experience of lying on my back with friends, looking up into a night sky full of stars, staring into eternity and feeling eternity stare back. The feeling is quiet but intense, sometimes unnerving, but you never want to let it go:

...and that night I
cried and I swear
everyone (the back lyin'
gang talkin' to the stars,
Rebecca, Rachael, the
girl who put helpin'
hand on my
shoulder) cried
and Jesus Crist
it was Israel...

...makes you wonder how
long we will live forever.






Erzulie

Larry Winfield

2000, 12.23 Press

Reviewed by Tara Betts



Larry Winfield was born in Marianna, Ark. in 1956. He studied art and theatre in college and began writing in the early 80's. He has hosted open mics and appeared as a featured artist at a number of Chicago poetry venues and festivals, performed with ensemble groups and produced short experimental films.

For readers unfamiliar with her powers, Erzulie is the Haitian Voodoo representation for Yoruba goddess Oshun originally worshipped in West Africa. Oshun/Erzulie is known for her sensuality, sweetness and is associated with honey and beauty. Larry Winfield seeks to implant this image in your mind as you read this collection of love poems. Winfield offers glimpses of arousal through senses and ventures into voyerism and fantasy then challenges how we perceive relationships with regard to gender and race.

He makes it clear in several poems that he is a Black man delving into his sexuality Such as the untitled poem where he explains a relationship with a white woman:

this love has nothing to do with
being on my knees to a bleached-out ideal
or sticking it to white boys
who have it coming anyway -
after all, i still make a point of ignoring
most blondes
cause they expect niggers to stare.

In Strip the narrator agrees to strip as a woman reads her poem, offering some of his insights before he begins:

will the morning find those pages scattered...
or will they be swept wham bam
out the door along with me
not even breakfast
not even a pat on the ass?
i can live with that.

In moments like these, the vulnerability and the sense of humor becomes evident in potentially tense yet intimate situations.

Although the title does not fully explore the representations of Erzulie, it speaks to her presence in the author's life. Winfield's poems mirror the sound of his voice - soft yet direct. Some of these poems affirm this delicate strength clearly. "Anyday in June" springs to life with lovemaking in summertime Chicago at the opening of Erzulie. "Cleanup" takes on a bluesy repetition as a man scrubs away his wife's suicide and "10 Seconds Over Goose Island" takes us through a chain of thoughts about a prostitute a man sees on the street. His ideas possess the possibility of becoming even more taut, less like prose and more like capturing a fragment of time.







From Summer 2001:

Starwallpaper 10th Neutral Turf Anthology - Edited by Kim Berez
The Journal of Ordinary Thought - Edited by Deborah Epstein
Storms Beneath the Skin - Regie Gibson
Big Pen - Edited by Lee Kitzis




Starwallpaper

The Tenth Anniversary Neutral Turf Anthology of Young Chicago Poets

Edited by Kim Berez

Puddin'head Press, 2001


Chicago poet Kim Berez is a lifelong resident of Humboldt Park who works with area youth as an arts therapist and Hip Hop Club sponsor. Over the last decade, she has worked with young writers from the varied corners of Chicago's often divided neighborhoods.

This volume of poems is published with the assistance of The Poetry Center of Chicago, ChicagoPoetry.com and Young Chicago Authors, and includes students from such schools as The University of Chicago Lab School, Oak Park & River forest High School, Hubbard High School, Paul Robeson High School, Lane Tech, Wendell Phillips Academy, St. Ignatius College Prep, and Roberto Clemente Community Academy, among others.

The poems surpass the expected topics this kind of anthology would suggest - there's more here than teen angst at the state of the world or cliched hip hop lyrics. Sheilah Carroll's mediatation on the writing process begins the book; Taylor Bibat's entry is a thoughtful ode to a wall, modeled after similar poems of Pablo Neruda; Melissa Grajewski's "Decisions" considers the tortured experience of a woman having to choose an abortion; Anna Vinn's untitled poem is a well written piece on spiritual turmoil:

I am what he calls "wisdomed out".
Struggling from one God to the next...
...Yet still I have the courage to stay,
Or maybe the lack therof to leave.


Yes, there are subjects common to teens covered here, but they're well written - the struggle to live up to personal pressures to be perfect; a young writer becoming aware of the world outside of a strictly internal focus; the universal woman extolling her body, her power; a young woman's sensual experience of playing a bowed instrument; a young man's passion for a car. And yes, there are a few poems whose images are hampered by the forced use of rhyme, but these are young writers, after all. On the whole, this is an excellent entry to the world of young authors and poets in Chicago, especially for readers who haven't been following Starwallpaper over the previous nine years.

I'll close with a haiku by Esteban Rendón:

The wind in winter
is a mint in the lips of your
novia.
Everytime you kiss her
you remember the taste of winter.

To purchase a copy, contact Puddin'head Press at 708/656-4900, or write to PO Box 477889, Chgo, IL., 60647





The Journal of Ordinary Thought

Vol X, Issue 6

Neighborhood Writing Alliance, 2000. Free


[From the inside cover]
"...The Journal of Ordinary Thought publishes reflections people make on their personal histories and everyday experiences. It is founded on the preposition that every person is a philosopher, [and] expressing one's thoughts fosters creativity and change..."

This particular volume includes works from photographers participating in the yearlong CITY 2000 documentary project, as well as from Neighborhood Writing Alliance groups meeting in the Chicago Bee, Hall, Mabel Manning, and Uptown branches of the Chicago Public Library; at StreetWise; Chicago Commons ETC; Jane Addams Resource Corp., and Brennerman, Haines and Sudler Elementary Schools.

The photos - from Carlos J. Ortiz, Kevin Horan, Zbigniew Bzdak, Jon Lowenstein, Robert A. Davis and Yvette Marie Dostatni, among others - show the official, the everyday, the small corners of the city turned into lasting record, with no photos from the "tourist Chicago" catalog. They blend well with poems that share a bus stop with a threatening burn-out, or offer a lesson in humanity from a homeless, intact family. Other poems say goodbye to a cousin shot down, give a dispassionate rendering of the official steps to tagging a street shooting. Some even commute to the west side:

[Westward Horror - Virdajean Towns-Collins]

West
Sixty-ninth
Street

Sidewalks littered
Graffiti riddled
Abandoned building
Desolate/eerie

Insulting/bitter
Inner city
Pilgrimage

To where
I live.

"The African In Me" from Bettina A. Van Pelt is a funny and soulful episode of blood and hip bones defeating the veneer of faulty dogma:

...My toes begin to tap out the beats.
There's a hum in my throat
And notes in my head
That don't belong
To the plans I have
For my soul.
I have become absorbed
By the spirit of my ancestor
And I am no longer refined.
All my parts have become enraged
As the music reaches inside my soul
To grab the African from within...

This is a beautifully designed (and well funded) program - based publication. To contact the Neighborhood Writing Alliance for this issue (and some of their excellent back issues), write to 1313 E. 60th St, Chicago, IL., 60637.





Storms Beneath the Skin

Regie Gibson

EM Press, 2001


When the poet's short-form bio says "Poet, percussionist, actor and activist Regie Gibson has lectured and performed at schools, universities and venues around the world, and he was the winner of the Individual competition in the '98 National Poetry Slam"; when Ch. 32 has "Love Jones" in regular rerun rotation, briefly featuring his poetry and performance (it played again a few Sundays ago as I read through the book); when the book's back cover blurb is from Kurt Vonnegut (a literary hero of mine from high school and college) and the book itself is such a beautifully designed thing, and when I realized that my effort here won't be the review of record for Regie's first book (though it will be the first), the full implication of "reviewer" draped itself on my shoulders. Yeah, so what.

This is a book, not a CD; this should have been a CD, or a DVD, or a 90-minute one man show with full orchestral and multimedia support, along with an accompanying book. That's the review Regie deserves, not one where I struggle to convey his work to the reader who's never experienced him on stage, who doesn't know his voice. That's the hitch - Regie's verses are intricately tied in with his vocalizations and his performance style, his facility with the cadence of the street hustler/seducer/preacher, where speech is both art form and weapon. But this is paper, and some of the poems lose a significant measure of their power when trapped on the page. This is immediately apparent in the poem for Jimi Hendrix, for example - once you take his voice away, what is inspired adrenalin and out-of-body experience becomes 'clever' on the page. This is a terrible thing to say about a great poem.

And this book is full of great poems: a prayer for artists prevented from creating; a love poem lost in the metaphysic; a parent trying to explain the love/pain that surrounded the creators of a life; a tribute poem to Miles Davis; a funky mythology rendition, and "mira", one of the best poems in the book, the adoration of a goddess from afar:

...aztec
soul sister
toltec
mind twister
weaver of beaded magic
see me as ive seen you...

...to be chocolate
smoke filled water

washing gently against
the supple beach of your thighs

carry grains of your sand
to shores of foreign lands
where men will erect altars
temples synagogues
to the myth of you i will teach them
coax people
out of a bag full of your smiles...

In a way, Storms Beneath the Skin illustrates the continuing dichotomy between the broad category of "academic" poetry grammatically structured for the page, and the equally wide-ranging world of "street" or "performance" poetry created for the ear, given a wider latitude for nonlinear coherence and pyrotechnics as it fills the space between the poet and an audience.

Storms Beneath the Skin should be available through your local chain bookseller and Amazon.com, but you can contact EM Press at 709 Marion St, Joliet, Il., 60436, and online at www.em-press.com.



Big Pen

Edited by Lee Kitzis

Big Pen Press, 2001


This is an interesting new anthology zine of poems and occasional short fiction featuring writers 23 years of age or younger, edited by Lee Kitzis. This first issue is dedicated to the memory of Lisa Juntunen, the young poet who many on the scene strongly suspect was murdered earlier this year. The contributors are Lee Kitzis, Seth Koenig, Ethan F Hamburg and Ariel Sznajder Aquirre.

*Twenty-year-old Lee Kitzis' poems have appeared in numerous publications, including Flipside, U-Direct, The Anti-Mensch, and the Columbia Chronicle. His double book Plainfield Follies / Israel to Prague Poems was previously reviewed in CTR.

Kitzis' entries are: "All's Quiet", a Miles Davis tribute - an appreciation for the space around his notes, the quiet that accompanies his music; and "The Young Man Caged", a profile of woman as planet, as city, as object pursued by an ambitious man, I think

*Twenty-year-old Seth Koenig is a 'part-time poet / part-time porn star' who is currently engaged in the rigorous study of eroticism in the ancient world. He attends the University of Iowa.

Koenig's "Spreading the Holy Word" is a clever iconoclastic limerick, and "Like Flowers With the Change of Seasons" is about a May-December romance and the gossip that surrounds it.

*Nineteen-year-old Ethan F Hamburg currently lives and writes on the Greek Island of Paros. He has published a book of poems and short stories entitled When the Empress Laughs (Writers Club Press). A lifelong student of Jewish history and the Bible, Ethan has also written a large repertoire of songs which he has performed in bars and clubs all over the U.S. and Canada.

"To Coronah On the Church" is a wish "to be Catholic in a world where the church never existed", for religion to be better than the thing it became; "Census" is a hallucinatory dream of abuse of power by Christians.

*Twenty-year-old Ariel Sznajder Aquirre was born in the hostile north of Israel. He is an internationally inclined exile, a Basque Separatist with a love for Medterranean cuisine, women, and Middle-eastern music.

His short fiction pieces - which didn't at all read like fiction - are an exile's travelogue through Gibraltar; street fights between American and Spanish kids; the awareness of the Muslims and Arabs in Granada. An interesting and definite point of view informs Mr. Aquirre's work.

You can find Big Pen at your local bookstore, or get it for $2 from Puddin'head Press, PO Box 477889, Chicago, IL., 60647. To submit poems and/or short fiction (the fiction should be obscure and offbeat - e.g. William S. Burroughs), send them via e-mail to Lee Kitzis at: NickArson@aol.com. Make sure to paste submissions into the body of the e-mail; no attachments.