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Chicago Poetry Venue Profiles |
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Chicago's open mic poetry scene enjoys
a vast history and thriving present that is arguably unparalleled by any other city in the world. Where else, after all, can you go to one or more open mic poetry gigs every night of the week?
The Unofficial Soup Kitchen celebrates
Stay tuned for the upcoming first For now, enjoy one Chicago poet's
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this is a poem for the dead, for empty shells
reclaimed by commerce more often than decay.... (The Get Me High; Adolph's; Cafe Aroma; The Y-Not; The Wholesome Roc) on well-worn streets i'm a gyspy passing cold campsites. sometimes i don't realize i've shuffled by and backtrack, other times i don't even stop; how often do you look in through dead facades for the smoke rising from phantom cigarettes, the wandering muse leaning against a shadow jukebox, grumbling.... (School Street Cafe; Edge of the Lookingglass; Guild Books; The Underground Wonderbar; Lower Links [1]) i ask myself if cubic space is ever blessed by our first and last breath - are we self-important enough for ruins or retrospectives.... hell no - this ain't the coast: this is a still a cowtown, convention playground, city of blue collars and rednecks. no room here for a funky valhalla. (Jimo's; Citi Lit Books; Kill The Poets; The Gallery Cabaret; The Borderline) this half-assed memorial needs some elegaic prose: we bend the dimensions of tight rooms and bars for the sake of words, fusing the ancient and the unknown with syllabes, grunts, whispers, like griots and troubadors before us for they are us and we are them. (Too Far West; Crash Palace; Spices; Sweet Alice; Dejoie's; Lower Links [2]) you know, this can't be a poem for the dead, not even a lament for the forsaken - we take back our anecdotes, our ashtrays and liquor, our lies and dreams; we haven't the gestalt to spare on a future real estate office, or a Starbucks. we almost forget to pause to mourn our own - voices forever stilled. (McCabes; PuddinHead Books; Yak, in Hyde Pk.; The Wolcott Inn; The Hothouse; The Bop Shop [1]) this is a poem for tomorrow, where memories belong, and if we're half as bold as we claim, this poem will always need to be continued.... |
