It was room 1303 and it started at seven. I was supposed to meet some people i now there but they had unexpected circumstances. And i listened to the poets as people entered the room.
Kathy Gunn had the most impact on me as a reader. her poem "The Seven Crowned Sonnes" hit me in the gut. The segment describing the colors of Snow White had the most effect on me.
the other two seemed less eventful to me. They seemed more...poetic. All in all the night left me both inspired and disappointed. i felt like i was at a poetry reading, because i was at one. i felt no higher sense. I had no transcendental experience. I felt as though the poems were poems and that the style of all three (except for Gunn's "Sonnets") seemed all too similar. Poetry to me is the heightening of language and the destruction of the comfortable. All these poems seemed comfortable. Poems should be destruction or creation. The poems read by the three poets seemed to be ere observation tossed through a thesaurus. What has happened to the "fuck" word? It is base and bestial, but base an bestial things are unpopular now. Unpopular, edgy, and angry are the direction in which we should head. The direction should not be uniformity by up-heaving language.
Sorry for the rant. I had a good time otherwise.
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