Sing the Body Electric
National Beat Poetry Festival at Barkhamsted, CT
A gathering of poets filled the moist air by the Farmington River with eloquent words, soaring sentiments and jeremiads against our own decadence. As Ron Whitehead wrote “listening is the greatest art of all…” Several dozen poets read in person and online during the three-day event which celebrated the publication of the New Generation Beats anthology, 2023. Founder, Deborah Tosun Kilday, handed out awards to poets across the US and internationally, and in turn received accolades and a plaque for her devoted service to finding, uplifting and publishing voices left outside the often closed sphere of mainstream literature. Angel Martinez claimed the expansive territory of poetry as “the right to breathe air unpolluted by greed… Beat is to be a large voice for the freedom we seek… resonant with voices of power.”
Sliding “into the situation like an empty bar glass on a slick table,” Chris Vannoy often recited from memory, directly engaging people as he prowled the aisles of the outdoor venue. He also read from “I breathe my body electric: “we are miniaturized… compressed in smaller and smaller bytes..” Like several other poets present Vannoy tuned into how digital society diminishes our humanity. As Debbie Tosun Kilday wrote in “Memories…not all good:” “manipulated media/to make sure/you never hear the truth.” Rescuepoetix defied insidious untruth in “We Keep Going” writing: “Those who keep coming back are the unbeatable ones/unlocking what binds us/thriving in the chaos… writing our new story backwards.”
In “No one owns the wind” C.C. Arshagra celebrated the memory of open-microphone pioneer Jack Shea “remembering ashes/Joining the full return of emptiness, and the love of words unpossessed.” A tireless documentarian, Arshagra shot hours of a new podcast “C.C. Arshagra in Conversation with” recording stories, fraught lives and unquenchable hope. Likewise, Chris Bodor spoke of endurance in “This Place:” “Fear is a foamy film, I can punch through it/ Fear is a foamy film, I can walk through it.”
John Burroughs, part of an intrepid trio of poets who drove out from Ohio, wrote “She’s in sunny Somewhere driving/while I’m in rainy Right Here drinking.” As always the atmosphere crackled with the strong sweet quality of words spoken to eager ears.
In “Poetry for the People” Carlos Raúl Dufflar recalled performing on San Francisco street corners and alternative radio “reflecting our time when Beat poetry was living in its moment of joy.” Along with his son, Angel Martinez, Dufflar runs the Bread Is Rising Poetry Collective. This Labor Day marathon of words of pain and promise underlined the importance of voices that speak fiercely of our complicated times.
Feeling that “to be with those I like is enough,” many shared memories, sifting the past for those precious insights hiding in the wrinkles of the world. Lorraine Currelley channels sage advice in “Grandmother speaks:” “do not listen to voices/that do not love you/descendent daughter… you will learn to speak proudly/declaring/who you are/who we are.” In gentle sestinas, Claire Conroy summoned her inner wild child to once again skip smooth stones across the ocean: “Aspire flight hand whipping soaring dripping airborne rock.”
“I also understand how lucky I am, yet… I don’t give a shit” wrote Annie Petrie (Sauter), in her pungent work “Hell smells like Avon”. Likewise, Paul Richmond caught our attention with his mordant humor, political commentary and wry plot twists. Thanks to event host Karen Tyson and the many helpers including Michael Kilday. In sum, it was the best of times, it was the verse of time.
good performance, thanks
ahhh … a rich offering👍✨✨✨
Regret I missed it … lg
:) https://earthoceanheavens.com/f/a-zen-masters-talk-interspersed-with-my-own-writing