You're Allowed :: May 3rd

Jen Michalski & Stephanie Barber

Around Town :: Baltimore Readings in April

I know, I know, we all love that indefatigable bore T.S. Elliot. And yes, this is truly the cruelest month. It is April, and therefore cruel. I get it:

April, with your blossoms and births and colors and growing suns, you make us forget the inevitability and totality of Death, which waits, biding its time and thinking to itself: Play in your lush colors...go on, play. This second will tick past and all will be black soon enough.

But must we deduce from this that all must also be poetry? I'm not sure that Elliot's line and the sanctification of April as Poetry Month have much to do with one another, but if they do, then some calender maker or senator or whoever makes these months up had a pretty morbid impression of the art of poetry.

Nonetheless, it is April, and it is Poetry Month, and, I guess if we gotta be macabre about it, then yes, all things will also die. But before they and you do here are some readings you should go to. (Blam! Rhymed the ending. You're welcome Poetry Month).

-7th Annual CruMoPoPerFest: April 17 @ 6:30 PM. Artichoke Haircut (us) presents an editors feature, with readings by us: Justin Sanders, Jonathan Gavazzi, Adam Shutz, and Melissa Streat. And, as is to be expected, there shall be drunk [sic]. Village Learning Place.

-Conversations and Connections: April 21 @9am. This is not a reading, but it is a great event so I had to put it on the list. Our friends at Barrelhouse are holding a conference for writers and just for writers. Get advice on writing and working the illusive world of publishing. See the link for more details.

-Poetry in the Park Celebrates National Poetry Month: April 21 @ 7pm. Featured Guests: GRACE CAVALIERI, JOELLE BIELE, & singer-songwriter KATHLEEN BRASINGTON. At the Severna Park Community Center.

-Benevolent Armchair Reading: April 22 @ 3pm. Featuring Mischelle Anthony and Cliff Lynn. At The Bromo Seltzer Arts Tower. 

-Poetic Formal: April 26 @ 6:30pm. Come in your best (or worst) formal wear for a reading of form poems. Village Learning Place.

-CruMoPoPerFest NaPoMo Sendoff at Waverly Library: April 28 @ 11am. There is a bunch of stuff going on at this reading so click the link for more details. 

-Last Sunday, Last Rites: April 29th @ 7pm. Featuring Barrett Warner, Jessica Dotson, Jen Michalski, and Karen Lillis. Baltimore Hostel.

A Letter to Citizen Garbage

To the guy who was driving a van that looked like an Astro van but wasn’t because you weren’t cool enough,

I was the one on the yellow motorscooter who honked at you. Your van was that ugly, retro grey-brown that people thought was an awesome color, but isn’t anymore. You were on the larger side. Not the oh-my-god-I’m-so-fat-I-get-stuck-behind-the-steering-wheel fat, but enough that your van probably sinks to one side when you get in. We were on some road in Towson, headed for Bosley Ave. I think you were wearing a white tee, and if I could imagine it – which I can – it was probably stained yellow around the pits, neck and on the stomach where you probably drop a lot of food. It wasn’t that warm outside and the wind was blowing. Your windows were rolled up but you were probably sweating. Not a lot though. Just a thin film of sweat on your face. Not enough to turn into droplets, but moist. You were pulling left, out of your parallel park job, to merge into my lane. I was the one behind that medic truck. You were looking right as you pulled out left.

I don’t understand this. Were you looking at something in your passenger seat? Was a Towson girl, over tanned, with blonde hair, walking by? Were you looking at the clusterfuck of papers, maps and McDonald’s wrappers on your dashboard and thinking, “Why the hell is all this shit on here?” Well I was thinking that, because I saw the clusterfuck on your dashboard and you looking the other way and pulling out in front of me and I was thinking, “What is that clusterfuck on his dashboard? Why is he looking away? Is he pulling out?” and that’s when I honked my horn. It wasn’t a hey fuck you buddy honk, but a hey, don’t hit me honk. Because I don’t like being hit, and I’m sure you didn’t want me to sue you or have little pieces of dead girl in your carburetor because I hear that it’s a bitch to clean, not like you would clean it you fat fuck. And I’d just sit there collecting all sorts of nasty shit. I’d just sit there, a part of your stupid van.

I was doing you a favor. But after that nasty look you gave me, maybe it should have been a fuck you honk because you seem like a dick. So next time, why don’t you look where you’re driving, so when you see me I don’t seem like a jerk for doing us both a favor.


Melissa