A beautiful raw poem for all of us that struggle to find our voice. A canticle of wanting in a dry land. That said, I chose to sing even if it is but a closet alone. I sing for it is all I can do. Thank you for the poem.
I've got some extraordinary VHS footage of David Lerner reading a poem, punctuating phrases with his fist banging on the tin walls of the Cafe Babar...also, Joie Cook...and some Vampyre Mike Kassel. All will be included in my the Cafe Babar chapter of my Julia Vinograd documentary.
Hi Tommy, I'm afraid Laura Conway isn't on the Babar audio recording that I'll be releasing on Giving Tuesday. However, I'm pretty certain she is on other Babar recordings that I'll be digitizing and making public as a parallel project. It'll be an enormous job and will likely come to fruition once I've completed the documentary.
Brings to mind the last lines of Tennyson’s “Ulysses.” A common theme for those of us beyond the tempest of youth:
“We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”
The lesson of the odyssey. Truth
What a poem for today!
"maybe tomorrow too
if we're lucky and strong and wild"
I remember this feeling with such gratitude.
"tonight perhaps I'll
learn to
live in the inches"
How many of us have felt that way?
How many of us still feel that way?
Thank You, David Lerner.
Thank you for this poem to the poets. It’s nice to feel less alone in this seeming passage of time which seems to always get its way.
Really glad to find poets who, like myself, are trying to counter the myth that being human is merely producing snd consuming.
"Faith is a series of calculations
made by an idiot savant.
I’m in love.
I’m alone
in this city of painted boxes
stacked like alphabet blocks
spelling nothing.
There are things I know:
trees don’t sing
birds don’t sprout leaves
roses bloom because that’s what roses do,
whether we write poems for them
or not."
"My heart is graffiti on the side of a subway train,
a shadow on the wall made by a child.
Nothing has been fair since my first skinned knee
I believe death
must be.
I cling to love as if it were an answer.
I go on buying eggs and bread,
boots and corsets,
knowing I’ll burn out before the sun."
Excerpts fom Gravity by Maura O' Connor, his longtime partner.
The story of my life in a few words... still looking for a place to sing...maybe this tiny cave?
Cave is good as acoustics good:) sing your song❤️
Thanks! I really need the encouragement. I only rely on the sympathy of people I don't know yet.
Thats ok too. Its a journey and its yours. Be at peace . Take your time❤️
I got the bump in my back
And I look at my feet
I have no cure
-
Cause I don’t know sung
Everyone tells me that
My voice is brittle
-
The cracks of a story
Make a nice song
It seems
-
But I don’t have to
To believe in
The cracks of a story sometimes make the only song there is.
Wonder full.
A beautiful raw poem for all of us that struggle to find our voice. A canticle of wanting in a dry land. That said, I chose to sing even if it is but a closet alone. I sing for it is all I can do. Thank you for the poem.
I've got some extraordinary VHS footage of David Lerner reading a poem, punctuating phrases with his fist banging on the tin walls of the Cafe Babar...also, Joie Cook...and some Vampyre Mike Kassel. All will be included in my the Cafe Babar chapter of my Julia Vinograd documentary.
Ken, do you have any Laura Conway footage or audio? She was one of my faves from that time
Hi Tommy, I'm afraid Laura Conway isn't on the Babar audio recording that I'll be releasing on Giving Tuesday. However, I'm pretty certain she is on other Babar recordings that I'll be digitizing and making public as a parallel project. It'll be an enormous job and will likely come to fruition once I've completed the documentary.
Absolutely beautiful. I’m a little confused about mid poem. You switch from “I” to “we”. Who are the we?
It's not me but David Lerner who wrote the poem in the 90s. He's speaking of "we" the poets about midway through.
Thank you so much.