TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile
Last night was made fabulous by poets young and younger! I went to the National Youth Poetry Slam Finals, with my friend, beautiful slam poet Ariana Waynes. The vibe was incredible; later, one of the older slam poets commented that ppl would be talking about this event for a long time.
The youth poets coaxed emotion and resonance from startling juxtaposition of word and image, causing the audience to laugh, stamp their feet, nearly weep, their writhing bodies a visceral testimony to the strength of language to evoke, provoke, stroke.
Language arouses. It's sexy, scary, stunning. Poets are some of the most progressive, passionate, witty ppl I know/encounter, newborn again to the revolutionary idea, the fabulous moment, of the tongues of poets criss-crossing, at hyperspeed, nations, tribes, languages, geographical/mental/emotional spaces, faster than pretensions, provocative dissension in the making.