Buffalo, NY – Throughout the month of April, literary lovers everywhere come together to celebrate National Poetry Month. And later this month in Buffalo, there will be an Urban Epiphany of Poetry. The marathon poetry event will introduce some of the areas most talented poets. As a preview, today and each Sunday this month, WBFO features a few of them.
Kristi Meal said she was once a bona fide full time professional - with her own 401 K. Now she's investing in her true vocation - poetry. Kristi says she isn't sure yet what it all means.
"I couldn't tell you what poetry is if you asked me to tell you, what is poetry. I have a sense of it," said Meal. "I don't know what to say. Life is very good with that desire in mind. The desire to try and become a poet...
Kristi Meal - and about a hundred other area poets - will read their work at Urban Epiphany on April 27. The event will be held from 3:00 pm til 8:00 pm at the Unitarian Universalist Church on Elmwood Avenue.
But you can hear Meal preview the event, reciting one of her poems, by clicking the "listen" icon above.
"Turn of the Century Period Piece: Disheveled Sequence"
By: Kristi Meal
oooo, women looovvvve her. where is she? even when she's right here in the room she's intimidating to approach. something about her aura, the way something entirely goes on around her while she leans against a wall. something, something, but what is it? where is she?
does anybody know what a coup is? C-O-U-P. A "brilliant sudden stroke or stratagem"- definition number 1, Merriam-webster desk version. coup de desire coup de denial coup de coup coup de constellations and stars the coup was not violent, not on this side of the veil, no, thus precluding the need for d'etat, that popular high school history class carryover. and besides, that was history this is now. no, no coup but bad mathematics. the blame, by a brilliant sudden stroke or stratagem, lies in mathematics. a coup de grace for the coup de truth.
the banal prospect of adulthood and its accompanying obscurities. at this turn of the millennia there seems no worse fate. what with weaponry consumerism fats self-denial subsidized manufacturing of flesh and the dingy purplish haze wafting off the horizon line at sunset. suppose its always been this way. clubs stones four seasons spice merchants roving bands of rogues pre-sanitation works and the great angry gods hurling malady upon whim or collecting taxes. grow up and die.
You create your vision once you've scene it that is the truth of this matterful world create what you like because you can love what you create because you have to stretch beyond reason for the things you love become beyond reason the love that you've become nevermind the reason nevermind the become of the world since we are yellowed until i'm home find me sewn in time
another confused guy spits on the pavement he does not look like a killer he does not look like a prophet
my walk is streaked smeared with unimpression gusts of flaccid beauty- what is this condition? this underindemnity?
insides, their televisions are on. glaze swallows whole face after face after face pushes through the latex screen. it flickers cold greyblue up there in that room.
it was a night of misunderstood options the sky swirled and so did the water. it rained body parts all those body parts thrown into the river.
israel are you waking now? your greys are facing the sun by now, burning
what if sound became all but some cry all but one heave thrust through the mouth of humanity? the Universe, left to engrave our stone- epitaph: 'Indifference You were provided room'
in a moment i saw all of the trees waving their arms at me. i took it personally.
Some new lover has inserted herself into my body she has no body "You're I'm mine yours" she tells me- "not enough" scratched in skin.
Play with me touch my hair let's fly out the room on one of these ships that keep tearing through her the smallest girl in the world-
time wavy time tendrils. the seas are tilting green shoots are hissing butterflies rush out the door