Catherine Daly and Chris Piuma
Sunday May 16, 7:30 pm
Mountain Writers Center, 3624 SE Milwaukie Ave. Portland, Or Suggested Donation $5
for more information, call the Spare Room Dial-A-Poem line at 503-236-0867 or email firstname.lastname@example.org
And coming soon to a reading series near you:
Paul Dutton w/improvising musicians (thanks to Various Artists); John and Roberta Olsen; Nathaniel Tarn & Janet Rodney; the second Spare Room Sound Poetry Festival, Charles Alexander, and more!
Summer schedule available soon at www.flim.com/spareroom
Catherine Daly attended college in Hartford and graduate school in New York, where she lived on every street from 116th to110th, then moved skip stops down the upper west side. She has worked as a technical architect and an engineer supporting the space shuttle orbiter, and has consulted to investment banks on, among other things, disaster recovery. This, unfortunately, impacts her poetry, which moves beyond the telephone to wireless in the giant book DaDaDa (Salt Publishing, 2003) and the forthcoming love poems, Locket (Tupelo Press, 2004). She lives in Los Angeles.
Chris Piuma has edited the online quasi-literary journal flim (flim.com) for many years. His band, the Minor Thirds, played a show in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan not long ago. He has been published in assorted venues, the likes of which you won't soon find elsewhere. He has bought board games in moonlit park entrances from dealers in nondescript green cars. There might be new books and recordings of his poetry.
Two poems from
In Media Res
Dissolve and Blur
Mine / heart free. Your service too constant.
Believing in you, draining, retaining nil, abandoning myself,
I was your slave, but goodbye,
I'm leaving you, thank god.
Mine h fffffree. ssssserviccccce conssssstant
draining, retaining messssselfffff
sssssslave good bye,
Rocks (know how) speak about it.
rocks beneath my feet do it.
The Old City
Where are the fourteen-year-old girls of my youth?
Where are my chariots of desire?
Why can't I drink all the Kool-Aid in the house?
Who put this here?
Why did I do that?
When did all these ants start crawling about here?
Who did you give the money to?
What was I going to tell you?
Where were you last night?
What should I have told that reporter, then?
Who knows what would make you happy.
Why did I do all that?
When did all these ants learn to make money at home?
Who did you crawl off with?