Dear Friends and Friends of Friends and Friends of your Friends too,
The ________-Shaped Reading is back in TAZ-Shaped form and is most excited to welcome the exceptional persons and poetry of Chicagoers Judith Goldman and Jennifer Scappettone and Madisonian Kevin Ducey. The event promises for real, (and Andy is making Hummus).
This all goes down at The Project Lodge (817 E. Johnson St. in Madison) at 7:15 pm on Saturday May 8th.
Please attend and bring along friends of yours and theirs…
Kevin Ducey’s poems and translations have appeared or are forthcoming in Crazyhorse, Zoland, Circumference, Hotel Amerika, & etc. In response to Ducey’s collection of poems, Rhinoceros, winner of the 2004 Honickman Award, Rupert Loydell writes in Stride Magazine, “Ducey must decide whether he is going to be court jester, stand-up comedian or a kind of postmodern satirist, for this book suggests he can do all three….” While the book prompted the critic Judith Kitchen to ask: “Where are the chickens?”
Ducey lives in Madison, Wisconsin. He is the former editor of Chew Magazine. His current interests include penumbral graphic behaviors, esp. in regard to the anthropophagous behavior in tribal poetics. And garlic.
Judith Goldman is the author of Vocoder (Roof Books 2001), DeathStar/rico-chet (O Books 2006), and a chapbook, “The Dispossessions” (Atticus/Finch 2009). She coedited the annual anthology War and Peace with Leslie Scalapino and teaches at the University of Chicago.
Jennifer Scappettone is the author of From Dame Quickly (Litmus, 2009) and of several chapbooks. Exit 43—-an archaeology of Superfund sites interrupted an opera of pop-up choruses–is in progress for Atelos Press. She edited Belladonna Elders Series #5: Poetry, Landscape, Apocalypse, featuring her poetry alongside new writing by Etel Adnan and Lyn Hejinian (Belladonna, 2009). Pop-ups are now being adapted as scores for 2010-11 performances at Dance Theater Workshop and elsewhere in collaboration with choreographer Kathy Westwater and architect Jae Lee as PARK. Her verse “stills” have been installed at the Zaoem and Infusoria exhibits of visual poetry in Belgium, and more are coming to the magazine Speechless. As a translator, she guest-edited the feature section of Aufgabe 7, devoted to contemporary Italian “poetry of research.” Readings and talks are archived at her PennSound page, http://writing.upenn.edu/pennsound/x/Scappettone.html. She is an assistant professor of English and Creative Writing at the University of Chicago.
SOME POEMS BY THE AUTHORS:
By Jennifer Scappettone
By Judith Goldman
Good for it
A beast sells a man at a discount,
noting a divot in
the left front hock
It Watches me sullenly from under lowered brows
And lumbers ‘cross the rough yard to be petted
cord put in my hand
Do you have it on you?
I praise the winter plum
in my throt
a version of touch?
I have seen the slain rise, their faces slosh
as a fire dies from a drink of water
I kept my arms raised
Above the waves
Not in accordance with duty but from
A certain interest
One says this, and then one hesitates
To roughen the surface of words
With a little punctuation
Page curls, licking its wounds
More fool me
If the fictitious body were a stake and
The real body a beast
Tied to it
Or Gnarled wood emerging from a cloak, as though
It were a hand
Wood becomes hand
All manner of shortcuts
Here It comes, open,
To cow me with its blink?, holding
a stained paper cup
“Teach me how to lock up,
up Like I own the place”
I new pay comma as if not paid before period
Nothing grows bigger than its own seed
by Kevin Ducey
How bout Bagel?
Aye, a wee groan from
navel and nivvy all along, want nagel?
Far adjutant resourcery
out the drain
washing, bit by bit away we ate
only a couple. In walked
Phraseology and Pharoah:
half an onion, half a garlic, half an everything
leastways. Sonst noch etwas?
Cleaning, or maintenance, or garbageman
on throne Torrejón repose oh say, can I?
I wdn’t, but why don’t you go ahead.
Oppening of the field
There must exist propositions whose truth can never be determined.
– Kurt Gödel
Under the hedgerows
strutting in jackboots
starlings and their lickspittle
squirrel. Down the street
what’s his name chased Daphne –
Oh, that’s old news. Now,
we struggle to avoid
a murderous automobile
studded with Michelin tires.