Poetry Madness

Blog:

My first experience at a poetry reading was certainly interesting. It was for The Open Light: celebration of Notre Dame Poets festival. The readers were an exuberant Joyelle McSweeney, a guy from Canada…who I apologize but cannot recall his name (although his renditions of a rejection based version of the Kama Sutra was one of my favorite pieces read), and finally the poet with by far the coolest name a Prof. Cornelius Eady.

Going in all I knew about the reading, and really poetry in general, was that a man with the name “Cornelius” was to be reading. This in mind, upon entry into the small, bland, yet intimate room I was on high alert for the most unique and awesome looking person there. You see with no other frame of reference to move from and no friends, I desperately needed something to occupy the five minute gap between arrival and performance. I needed an awesome figure to attach the equally awesome Cornelius to.

After sitting down I immediately began to scan the room for Cornelius.

Too plain…
Too good looking…
Cornelius wouldn’t wear a sweater-vest…

Bam there he was! I identified a blend of “jovial mixed with wild” clothed in a (literally) star-studded tee shirt framed by a blazer. Furthermore, this top-end perfectly clashed with his plain blue jeans. Overall, the summation of this jolly and drearily sarcastic icon of semi-rebellious “artsy folk” caused me to beg:

“please let THAT be Cornelius”.

However, mere seconds after this great discovery, the real Cornelius stood up. While, it turned out that this epitome of artsy-awesomeness was not indeed Cornelius (the character would eventually become known as the “nameless Canadian”), I fortunately was not disappointed by the true material form of Prof. Cornelius, or by the work of either poet (Cornelius and the nameless Canadian) for that matter.

With clarity as to who-was-who now established, and our little bleak room finally filled the ensuing performance proved both enlightening and entertaining.

While my very limited knowledge and exposure to poetry left me a bit lost at times, especially in the more abstract poetry of McSweeney and the Canadian, on the whole I enjoyed the reading. The readers were entertaining and exuberant, especially McSweeney and Canada. Even Cornelius, whose poetry was more straightforward prose style (nice, for even a poetry ignoramus such as myself could follow it) was powerfully delivered and felt rather than heard.

McSweeney stood out to me primarily for two reasons. First her free-association and abstract style seemed to incorporate many issues, ideas, and things. Her poetry was powerful to me in this sense as she constrained herself in no way, and it really captured the fluid dynamic of life’s interconnectivity in her writing (this random and slightly spastic style also may have so powerful to me because it is strikingly similar the hyperactive and random nature of my own mind).

Second, McSweeney used a unique and interesting style of lyric poetry, which when combined with her highly energetic and rhythmatic delivery provided a result that was both exciting and entertaining.

As for the name forsaken Canadian, one thing I enjoyed about his style was his harassment of the audience. His interaction with us was funny and engaging which helped me to follow his readings and the direction of his presentation. As noted earlier my favorite piece by him, and one of my favorites for the entire reading, was his imaginary “translation” of the Kama Sutra as written by a man whom I have never heard of (it was some inside literary major joke, apparent though from what I could gather, everything the man wrote resulted in utter rejection, denial, and failure). In following, the “translation” spoke of these types of experiences; including the failed ability to “maintain the Tower Of Bable” as well as other equally frustrating tales of rejection and sexual frustration.

The final reader, Cornelius, was more of what I imagine of as a “traditional poet”…if there is such a thing. Apparently, it was his last reading at the University because he is moving down to some southern state Mississippi, Alabama, or somewhere like that. While, his final reading and goodbyes did make me feel a little awkward to be there (considering had no idea who he, or anyone else, was) I did still enjoy his works.

Cornelius had similar topics and themes that ran through all his works. I like how he would elegantly and humorously describe everyday mundane things and relationships (i.e. picking up street furniture and marriage) that everyone could relate to. His lines about “Guarding the couch” and the description of “impotence with a hammer” were both funny and well done I thought.

Also, culture and his identity as a black man were very evident in nearly everything Cornelius read. I was especially moved by the piece about Emit Till, and the entire collection he wrote from the perspective of the “imaginary black murderer.” The one short story from the “imaginary murder” collection that provided input from “Uncle Tom” was especially notable, and the way that Cornelius presented the work (mostly from memory) only furthered its power.



Overall, it was a good experience. I enjoyed the eccentricity and free atmosphere. The lack of constraints on thought, work, and presentation was really awesome and I was lucky to be able to enjoy such a varied and diverse collection of Poets. In closing, thank you to McSweeney, the nameless Canadian, and Cornelius for an eccentric and entertaining reading.