Please come: it'll be a riot!

Possibly also funny!

April 6, 8PM
Cheryl B. Presents:
The Poetry Vs Comedy Variety Show
PVC (Poetry Vs Comedy) is neither an ordinary poetry slam nor a stand-up comedy
show. The Poetry Vs Comedy Variety Show is a battle of wits and rhymes where the
stanzas and the stand-up collide.

Emcee: Carolyn Castiglia (Caroline's)

Poets:
Claudia Alick (HBO's Def Poetry Jam)
Christine Hamm (Author, The Animal Husband, Dancing Girl Press)
Andy Horwitz (WYSIWYG Talent Show)

Comedians:
Dan Allen (Comedy Central's Premium Blend)
Kelli Dunham (Penn and Teller's Bullshit)
Lianne Stokes (Brutal Honesty)

Musical Guest: Adira Amram (Chicks and Giggles)

Galapagos Arts Space
70 N. 6th St.
Williamsburg, Brooklyn
L Train to Bedford Ave.

The Tiny Gnats of Memory

will cling to us if we’ve entered their house, ever
.
steal our soup, knock glasses of water
                           to the floor
.
tug our hair when we sleep
.
leave footprints in milk down the
                              hallway
.
make the cat screech and disappear
.
are silent and stare
.
hang our shirts upside down, dip our
        shoes in the toilet
.
refuse to tell us their names
          tell us nothing but their names
.
breathe like donkeys, stomp on our roofs
.
sometimes need us to open the door, 
             sometimes not
.
hide in the refrigerator
.
eat meat and are angry
          leave bite marks
.
are only hungry when we’re alone
.
pour gasoline in our shampoo, and ask us, later,
                              for a light

I know I don't write non-poetry stuff here very often, but I just had to shout about this -- I got into the Ph.D. program at Drew University, plus a full tuition scholarship, plus extra funds. I'm going to be studying the post-war female poets, Plath, Sexton, Bishop, etc. and gender studies.

I am just so shocked. So ecstatic-- so .... wow.

You who wrote my recommendations are going to get personal thanks very soon.

Go here and you can hear me read my poems. Very exciting.

new poem -- some of you might be noticing a theme here--

The Secrets to a Happy Marriage

Have clear boundaries

When my husband shits in the shower and spreads it all over the bathroom, I spray him with the spray bottle and say “no” sharply. He ignores me and scratches behind his ear until I grab his foot to stop him. I’d threaten to withhold his chow, but we’re beyond that.

Take responsibility for your own actions

I have a problem in that I don’t think anything really exists until I can put it in my mouth. I’ve scalded my tongue on at least ten occasions. There was an incident with a meteorite, then a president. I am still on parole. I got a six-month extension because my husband tried to bite an FBI agent.

Try the direct approach with your mate

I would like a fistful of flowers, please.
No, put them here on my collarbone.
Don’t kiss me, no, I haven’t brushed
my teeth yet. But you may kiss the boil.

Don’t be afraid to follow your dreams

Last night I dreamt I was standing naked in room piled with books. There were puddles of milk on the ceiling. Then I woke up and I was standing naked on my husband’s chest.

Sharing is key

Sometimes I let him share the bed with me, as long as he stays at the foot. If he farts too much, I lock him in the bathroom. I play easy-listening music so I don’t have to hear him howl. My husband likes to go for walks with me in the rain, but when we get back to the apartment he shakes himself and the kitchen gets covered with mud.

Recognize the importance of communication

Sometimes I imagine he still speaks to me. If only I hadn’t sewn his tongue to our daughter. She sprouted wings and jumped out a window when she was six. I never checked to see how she landed. I avoid that window now.

Most of all, celebrate the holidays together

On Valentine’s Day, I go to certain bars. It’s time I started dating again; my husband’s getting lonely cooped up in the apartment all day by himself. He gets into things, humps my shoes. No one’s responded to my personal ad yet, but I saw a few prospects at Starbucks. I’m looking for a man or woman who easily converts into a rabbit.

My Friend Flicka

two girls best friends live out in the hills
near San Francisco   they wear dirty t-shirts
and flip flops    they slouch everywhere and 
give people the evil eye    they are unable to sit
up straight     prop their dusty feet on the armrests 
and are frequently upside down and restless
.
they nag each other about their collections of 
plastic horses   argue about whose is better
one girl’s bigger and older    in secret she 
feels awkward next to the smaller girl  admires
the way her ribs show
.
they braid each other’s long greasy blond hair
all the time       walk endlessly up and down the hill
between their two houses    sometimes they stop
and sit at the edge of the road    throw pebbles
at each other and collect pine cones
.
one is saving up for a saddle     one has a pool
they draw horses on their notebooks   horses on 
their mirrors     their magic markers smell like 
grape or bubble gum
.
there is no one to watch them when they are in the
pool   sometimes when theyare roasting in their bikinis 
on towels they talk very slowly and then fall asleep    
later they will forget what was said
.
when no one’s looking they fight and bite each other
deny it all later    they smell like hay and rotten apples
refuse to shower or use soap chlorine turns their hair
spring green
.
when their parents aren’t home they whisper and take
vodka & rum from the cupboard next to the kitchen    
they  sip it in juice glasses and make faces     
when they are drunk they get headaches 
                           and kiss each other
                               to practice for boys

I stole a line from the last one.

The Reluctant Bride

I’m a virgin on my wedding day
wearing 23 shades of white

my hair the color of a spotlight
I have the bluest eyes you’ll ever see
on the subway I’m twelve

when I’m alone I speak to pigeons
my skin the color of the city before it rains
yellow that is almost green almost tangible

I go barefoot everywhere

my mother sold me to a 90 year-old
millionaire in Buenos Aires

she advertised me on Ebay
guaranteed my blood reversed aging

she let me choose my wedding dress yesterday
my train is raw silk and spans two acres

she bought the high heels
I’m free until noon
there’s a spiral staircase in my heart
the stairs made of phoenix wings
and mastodon bones

I’ll climb out this window
the pigeons will come with me and the tiger
and the crack addict who kissed my hand
on the corner of Broadway

there’s some other city there
some city just like this one but
people are barefoot
and it rains every day at four
it’s a sweet rain and soft

Good news! Amy King of MiPOesias solicited a submission from me; I'm so flattered.

Every Mother’s Worst Fear

when my mother was pregnant with me
she craved a pound of strawberries every day
her breast milk turned pink

she sold her milk to herbalists in Chinatown
for 100 dollars an ounce
she bought a silk stroller
embroidered with pictures of Elmo

she dreamt I had a tail
she couldn’t stop crying

meteors hit the Ukraine
the night I was born
the craters still glow green
during the winter

my first word was no
before I could walk I liked to sit quietly
in the corner facing the wall
and climb into the ceiling
when no one was looking
mother knocked me down with a broom

I go barefoot everywhere
holes sometimes appear
in the sidewalk where I place my feet

provide your own captions





Okay, some of these might have been taken in New Mexico.





That's enough, really. Oh, you want more?



Just go to my flickr account for more.