Thomas Dorsett: “One afternoon, over 40 years ago, I got on the subway on my way to the New School in New York City. I had signed up for a course in poetry taught by the great Jose Garcia Villa. My brother had warned me that he often severely criticized student work. I was very nervous. A little while later, he read some student poems and, true to form, demolished them. Then he came to mine. After reading it, he looked up, and asked Thomas Dorsett to identify himself. I stood up—Here it comes, I thought; my poem must be especially bad. ‘You will become a poet,’ he said. I just stared in amazement until he told me to sit down. That night I thought that I must do something on the side so I can afford to eat. So I became a physician, too. After 60, I added a third ‘p’ and have become an avid amateur pianist.”
Mark Fishbein: “I am known as PoetwithGuitar (email, website, and social media). After playing at folk clubs in the ’60s and rock bands in Paris in the early ’70s, I joined the Musician Union Local 802 in New York and played in various venues for a year. My last gig was at a Hawaiian restaurant for several months in a small tiki band. Realizing my music talents were average at best, I took a business opportunity, and stuck to poetry. However, I later took up classical and Brazil style playing, and now perform in a ‘piano bar’ format at art and poetry events, private parties and banquets, and to accompany my readings. I have four published books. This poem is part of a collection of fifty poems, Poems in the Key of Music, currently seeking publication. I currently live in Chicago.” (web)
Lynne Knight: “I walk by this ravine almost every morning. Years ago, it was overrun with brambles. Then one year, whoever lived in the house by the ravine slowly cleared the brambles and planted wildflowers. I walk at dawn, so I never saw anyone at work. But it was easy to imagine a source for all the energy it must have taken to reclaim the ravine, the way it was easy to turn the brambles into metaphor.”
R.G. Evans: “I’ve played music in bands and solo almost all my life, but since retiring from teaching I’ve spent much more time than before playing at wineries, country clubs, and listening rooms all over New Jersey. I’ve dedicated myself to songwriting, too, with two albums already released and a third I’m in the process of recording now. How has music impacted my poetry? I believe the transaction is the other way around. My work as a poet has helped me write lyrics that are tight, image-driven, and (I’m told) very original. I don’t allow myself the easy out of ‘moon/June’ rhymes or other cliched conventions of popular music, and that rises from my belief that a poet—and a songwriter—has a duty to write something that’s never been written before, not something that’s already familiar. Take for example the opening lines of my ‘love’ song ‘Hearts and Minds’: ‘We go together like a weapon and a wound.’ I like to think that my favorite songwriter, the late great Warren Zevon, would approve.” (web)
Joshua St. Claire: “I was born during the Cold War. I remember talking about nuclear war with my mom when I was a tiny child. I lived through Desert Storm, Bosnia, Somalia, Afghanistan, and Iraq. Endless unrest in the Middle East. Escalation with China. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. I’m tired of it. What reasonable, normal person wants war? It’s the worst thing we humans do. Now, we have this latest, indelible image of my governor signing munitions—killing machines to keep the war raging. Will we ever have peace?”
Olivia Sung: “I love the flexibility of being free from grammatical rules. Poetry allows me to manipulate words in the way that I see fit while still granting me the freedom to express myself in a unique way that all other mediums cannot. I also love the beauty in poetry, in that it is able to capture the charm of both the little and large things in life.”
Partridge Boswell: “For me—a ‘troubadour’ lacking a word in his native tongue to adequately describe the fusion of things he does as a poet, singer, songwriter, teacher, musician, and spoken word artist—poetry and music are one and the same, a seamless inseparable symbiosis. This spring, our trio’s on tour in California, the deep South, and Ireland (where poetry and music aren’t estranged and still reside under the same roof), a rare and adaptable trans-genre animal. In the spirit of Federico Garcia Lorca—gifted musician, legendary poet/playwright, and ebullient performer—we fuse poetry and music in a passionate and surprising mash-up. Los Lorcas blur boundaries between spoken word and song, weaving poetry with Andalusian ballads, blues, rock, folk, reggae, hip hop, Americana, and jazz in pursuit of the cante jondo (deep song) Lorca ardently championed. Invariably this means one moment playing clubs, pubs, and coffeehouses, and the next bookstores, libraries, schools, and literary festivals. All our song lyrics are published poems, and many also enjoy lives as spoken word pieces. Our setlists typically feature roughly 60 percent of our own poetry and 30 percent paying homage to the work of other poets we admire wedded to our own arrangements and translations, which strive to do justice to each poem’s innate original music. While our poetry concerts may nonplus purists who assume we’re just moonlighting, we aim to build bridges and cross invisible, unnecessary borders. From creation to ovation, the active symbiosis of poetry and music we espouse encourages us to pay close attention to a poem’s musical qualities and/or a lyric’s poetic mien. Song or poem, call it what you will—we believe this fusion translates to a deeper, more accessible metapoetic experience for our audiences.” (web)
