Arts & Culture
Fri April 25, 2003
Urban Epiphany: Co-Founder Celia White
By Joyce Kryszak
Buffalo, NY – A month long poetry celebration ends on Sunday, April 27 with one last, breathless event in Buffalo.
The five-hour long poetry marathon, called Urban Epiphany, will feature non-stop recitations by more than one hundred local poets.
In the last of our special series previewing the event, WBFO's Joyce Kryszak showcases Celia White, one of the founders of Urban Epiphany.
You might say that Celia White breathes poetry.
She's a prolific writer - of both fiction and poetry. And she's the winner of several distinguished awards, including the Academy of American Poets.
So, it's only natural that White would spend her leisure time traveling to other cities - to experience more poetry.
In 1998, White made a sort of pilgrimage to New York City for the St. Mark's New Year's Day poetry marathon. She says it was that experience that inspired Urban Epiphany.
She and co-founder Joe Todaro have spent months organizing the Buffalo poetry event. But White doesn't mind. She says words have always kind of been her obsession.
You can hear White talk about and recite her work by clicking the "listen" icon above.
And you can hear White, and about one hundred of her friends, read their poetry at Urban Epiphany on Sunday, April 27.
The event will be held from 3:00 PM until 8:00 PM at the Unitarian Universalist Church on Elmwood Avenue.
Haul up the sunken heart, the deep heart, its serious treasure. How it pours through your fingers and into your mouth.
Hold up the hallucinating, illuminated heart, the sore but still beating heart, the heart resurrected and at peace.
Hum a little to the quiet heart, the hesitant heart, the waiting within will wake & finally begin the work.
Hurt is this heart, so is that heart & every heart within earshot & any hot shot or schweet-hot will tell you, it wants to heal.
Heal up, heart, because love is coming. Closer, closer, coming, coming here, love is coming here, oh, love is here.
Here are some things to pray to in Buffalo, New York:
the river, the weather; sunset and sunrise, but especially sunset; cafes spilling onto Elmwood Avenue; beer; Greek diners open all night; steel, young songwriters, snow; Teressa Belissimo; grit, trees, black November rain; Polish grandmothers; Balistreri Bread; January thaw; families deep and strong as tree roots grow; dandelions; generous bartenders; the casual chapel of Broderick Park; Robert Creeley's firehouse door; the broken fence between the Christian and Jewish cemetaries off Genessee Street; jazz at Cybele's on Thursday nights; Orchard Drive; the silver roof of the Tri-Main Building; the back stage at Nietzsches; infant gravestones from 1851; the Peace Bridge; the fact of home, knit like a bon