Readings in Contemporary Poetry
Anselm Berrigan and John Godfrey
Thursday, September 22, 2011, 6:30 pm, Dia Chelsea
Thursday, September 22, 2011, 6:30 pm
535 West 22nd Street, 5th Floor
New York City
Introduction by Vincent Katz
Anselm Berrigan
Anselm Berrigan's books of poetry include Free Cell (2009), Some Notes on My Programming (2006), Zero Star Hotel (2002), the chapbook Primitive State (2010) and the book-length poem Notes from Irrelevance, to be published in 2011. He is the poetry editor for The Brooklyn Rail, co-editor of the recently published Selected Poems of Ted Berrigan (2011), and a member of the Subpress collective. From 2003 to 2007, he was Artistic Director of The Poetry Project at St. Mark's Church.
from Notes From Irrelevance
I’ve not met an alien
or at least every being
I’ve encountered has
been recognizable on one
level, who doesn’t for
instance take their aura
of citizenry for a stroll
in some granite forest,
“some” activating an
emphasis on arbitrary,
which we of course
don’t deal in here
mind you, unless by merit
of reflection, i.e. I know
I’m in the Bacon
I don’t have to have it
shown back to me. I
want to eat and be eaten.
There’s no particular
mystery in that sense.
The generic rambling
passé mysteries of space,
time, friendship, filthy
rumination and little
curvy bends in the air
when the funereal
arrangements are being
made in two broken
languages and you
haven’t slept because
you’re heavier than
sleep for extended lack
of it, that’s what I’m
eliminating “thought”
to handle. Blank is blank
is blank is blank.
or at least every being
I’ve encountered has
been recognizable on one
level, who doesn’t for
instance take their aura
of citizenry for a stroll
in some granite forest,
“some” activating an
emphasis on arbitrary,
which we of course
don’t deal in here
mind you, unless by merit
of reflection, i.e. I know
I’m in the Bacon
I don’t have to have it
shown back to me. I
want to eat and be eaten.
There’s no particular
mystery in that sense.
The generic rambling
passé mysteries of space,
time, friendship, filthy
rumination and little
curvy bends in the air
when the funereal
arrangements are being
made in two broken
languages and you
haven’t slept because
you’re heavier than
sleep for extended lack
of it, that’s what I’m
eliminating “thought”
to handle. Blank is blank
is blank is blank.
John Godfrey
John Godfrey began writing and publishing poems while at Princeton University. His recent publications includeCity of Corners (2008), Private Lemonade (2003), and Push the Mule (2001), and his book Tiny Gold Dress is forthcoming in 2012. He has received fellowships and grants from the General Electric Foundation, the Foundation for Contemporary Art, and the Fund for Poetry.
SUCH ANGELS
Headland behind me
All the suspicions
that drain heaven
Has no taste, snow
but aftertaste of lanolin
protects such angels as fly
Look for something orange
Instead see a light
There will be smoke
By far the most radiant
heap of grime
Narrowed byways
Each step succeeded
by splatter
Seems more and more often
that darkness descends
Without wind I prefer it
Sidewalks are I know
very large rooms
To circle the room
I need a partner
Turns out the accent
is French french
I take her hand in mine
She begins to dance
Time is ripe, put that
down for a second
Around us lights on
the inside are the outside
What about our clothing
Our scarves begin
an intimacy
An hour sooner or later
Everything that happens
The ones we abandon