Ernest Hilbert reads with Lynn Levin and Laura Spagnoli
Wednesday, January 21st, 2015, 7PM
Upstairs at Fergie’s Pub, 1214 Sansom Street
Philadelphia, PA 19102, 215-928-8118
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Lynn Levin is the author of four collections of poems: Miss Plastique, a 2014 Next Generation Indie Book Award finalist in poetry; Fair Creatures of an Hour, a 2010 Next Generation Indie Book Award finalist in poetry; Imaginarium, a finalist for ForeWord Magazine’s 2005 Book of the Year Award; and A Few Questions about Paradise. She teaches at Drexel University and the University of Pennsylvania.
“Being Me” by Lynn Levin
Being me is a kind of neurosis
but sometimes I have fun between crises.
As a kid, I once identified a copperhead
by looking it straight in the eye.
It really did have vertical pupils
like a cat’s. I yelled poisonous!
and the other girls and boys ran off.
In those days, I wasn’t very nearsighted
but I was very fond of cats.
Remembering my childhood
is like putting my hand down
the garbage disposal
and hoping no one will turn it on.
When I wasn’t
spreading butterflies, I played
undertaker with my cousins:
first makeup, then the footlocker.
Live burial, I found, was not for me.
Instead of birding, now I watch Navy jets.
The F16s always fly in pairs
as if they were scared or mating.
Will Mitchell ever call?
It’s been ten years . . .
I didn’t like being lost in the middle
of the night on a Jersey highway.
On my way to the bed and breakfast
I took every wrong exit. I thought
I was going to have to start
a completely new life.
I have an excellent homing device
for error. It’s only natural—
dark energy controls most of the world
and pulls me I-don’t-know-where
but not to dinner with Danny and Marge.
I wish I could remember your name
the way I remember every mean thing
anyone’s ever said to me.
Have you played Police Chase?
The one with the most felonies and damage
wins. When my client ordered
a fourth redirect of my direct-mail kit
for The Anti-Stress Handbook,
I said fuck you! and quit the project.
Then I had the whole afternoon
to weed my garden.
* * *
Laura Spagnoli is the author of the chapbook My Dazzledent Days (ixnay press). Her poems have appeared in various places, including Jupiter 88, ONandOnScreen, and Apiary, and her story “A Cut Above” was published in the collection Philadelphia Noir. She lives in Philadelphia.
“I’m Gonna Wash That Moon Right Out Of My Hair” by Laura Spagnoli
Because the moon makes people crazy.
From now on I just want them to be
crazy about my hair.
I’m gonna redecorate my healing spaces
so they’re ready for sophisticated guests.
I’m thinking granite. I’m thinking beige.
Copper fixtures will enhance the beauty
of my sink.
I’m gonna wash that moon right out of my hair
because a woman’s hair is a metaphor
for her life, and I am taking hold
of the steering wheel
of my hair.
I’m gonna wash that moon right out of my dreams
by purchasing light-blocking curtains.
The moon won’t be back in my bedroom
any time soon, I tell the Target cashier,
but I can see she’s still caught up
in the moon thing.
I’m gonna wash that moon that calls itself
a male deity, a female deity, a water deity,
a world-wide deity. The moon wants to have it
every which way.
—Stop texting the moon, I tell my friends.
—Stop going for coffee where you think
the moon will be, they tell me.
The moon inspires lunar fancies, but not
every woman has a flame to turn
her body into a volcano.
You have to watch what you wish for.
That was me spewing lava that day.
I sent ash clouds to the edge
of animated radar screens.
Everyone knows it. Everyone’s seen
the treetops burn. Happy Harvest
Fucking Moon!
I don’t know if I can dig those cities out
or that house with the ungrounded
electric outlets. The landlord
called it spark.
Maybe it wasn’t the right neighborhood
for me. I’m just so over everyone
I loved. I’m trying to uphold
the fine suede social fabric
of this couch.
* * *
Ernest Hilbert is the author of two collections of poetry, Sixty Sonnets (2009) and All of You on the Good Earth (2013), as well as a spoken word album recorded with rock band and orchestra, Elegies & Laments, available from Pub Can Records. His next book, Caligulan, will be issued in hardcover from Measure Press in September 2015. He hosts the popular blog E-Verse (www.everseradio.com) and the E-Verse Equinox Reading Series. He works as an antiquarian book dealer in Philadelphia.
“CASH FOR GOLD” by Ernest Hilbert
Before you dashed with me through
Fish-scale pours of tropical storm
In the falling down city I felt
Too long like a king of an unsettled
And marshy land, but dried in the sad
Victorian room by the sea I was better
For a while, where pink bouquet
Wallpaper shed from damp walls
Like gluey shadows in the corners
And the gold-framed painting
Over the rolled-in mattress
Was a nervous antique rash
Of silver moonlight and drenched sand.
I dreamed slowly on my side
As the restless squall billowed
The white gauze curtains
And they danced and beat all night.
In the morning, the rain went on
And a drenched seagull perched like a statue
On the next roof. We heard
Someone beyond the wall
Quarrel about money
And later heard another
In a car who laughed and whooped
About a new house and drove off.
In the noisy diner I wonder
Why we never talk about money
Until it’s gone. Is it because something’s
Wrong with us? Something’s wrong
With us. I always knew it. I still
Love you. And look, the lights
Are turning red down the rainy avenue.
