Primates
Naked apes
Eating grapes
And pitted dates
From fancy plates
That come in crates
Over the water
With foreign rates
Having complex thinking thoughts
From the seeds that Darwin wrought
Of birds that fly from place to place
With no regard for creation’s face
Or supreme mind
Just lengths of time
And nature’s grind
To help us find
The truth sublime
Scattering seeds
Through birdie scat
Helps preserve us
Dog and cat
It was true then
It holds true now
For humans, turtles, emu and cow
While getting our kicks
Lost in the mix
Is mankind’s fix
Between and betwixt
Our memory withdrawn
Of how to spawn
Out on the lawn
And we’d be gone
Janet Kuypers reading her poem “New to Chicago” from memory live 3/4/15 at the open mic the Café Gallery in Chicago (Canon fs200)
“new to chicago”
(poem by Jaet Kuypers)
I’m still new to this city
I know, I know, I’ve been here for years
but I haven’t gone to the Sears Tower Observatory
since my Junior Prom
but when I walk by the First Chicago building
the beams along the north side
sloping up, parabolic pillars curving up to the sky
when I walk by the First Chicago building
I walk up along the side
and lean up against one of the sloping pillars
press my body against the cold concrete
feel the cold against my chin, my breasts, by thighs
and look up along the curve, stretching up towards the sky
you know, these pillars look like race tracks
and I could see something come rushing down that curve
a matchbox car, a race car
a marble, a bowling ball
a two-ton weight
I see the speed, the power, and it
almost makes me afraid to look up
and every time I walk by the First Chicago building
I do the same thing, I do this little ritual
and it feels like the first time
Janet Kuypers reading her poem “New to Chicago” from memory live 3/4/15 at the open mic the Café Gallery in Chicago (Canon Power Shot)
Janet Kuypers reads portions of her India Journals< (from 20150111 9:25PM IST) at the open mic the Café Gallery in Chicago (Canon fs200)
Janet Kuypers reading William F. Meyer Jr.’s poem “Cave Woman / Cave Man Soliloquy I” from the Down in the Dirt collection book What Must be Done live 3/4/15 at the open mic the Café Gallery in Chicago
Janet Kuypers reading Catherine B. Krause’s “The Herd” from the current issue of cc&d magazine’s “the Curve of Arctic Air” live 3/4/15 at the open mic the Café Gallery in Chicago
Janet Kuypers reading Robert Bates’ prose “Knockout” from Down in the Dirt mag (the Jan./Feb. 2015 issue, v127) titled “Treading Water” live 3/4/15 at the open mic the Café Gallery in Chicago
Janet Kuypers reading C Ra McGuirt’s poem “If you read this poem, then you will die” from the 2015 “need to know” literary date book live 3/4/15 at the open mic the Café Gallery in Chicago
Janet Kuypers reading Rex Sexton’s poem “this is not a poem” from the 2015 “need to know” literary date book live 3/4/15 at the open mic the Café Gallery in Chicago
See YouTube video
of Janet Kuypers hosting the open mic 3/4/15 at Gallery Cabaret’s the Café Gallery in Chicago
Oceans in the Moon,
Swell and ebb,
Lost in shadows;
Shone through the web.
Shifting shape,
Glowing orb,
Echoes in pale yellow;
Splashed on wet grey kerb.
And yet it rises from deep within you,
And reaches out to depths unknown.
And somehow it sings out loud to bring you
To a place you know
Is home.
Tides on La Luna,
Cusp and bulb,
Cast in shallows;
Laced through the dark.
Swelling pearlescence,
Unclasping and unheard,
Soothing mist and mellow;
Loves do not yet disturb.
Emma Scott 6.4.14
Paul…
Cake ‘bakes’ in your loft space,
Dough crusts streak your cheeks.
Cracked leather blue car seats
Thumb pressed; the Handbrake creaks.
Newborn kittens squealing wet,
Nestled in crumpled sheets.
Mud ‘bakes’ grip our crevassed knees,
Hands and hard soled feet.
Echoes of church choir songs,
Gravelly heights voices reach,
Where we perched on ‘uni’ rooftops,
Above lectures where they teach.
Broken bike and black-bruised boy,
To shells on white- Kenyan beach.
Tangled frayed fingers frets and strings
To strummed rhythm and symphony.
Still vivid, yet years spin shadows
Into thinning hair, face and skin.
Through shallow aging layers,
Looking out, and looking in.
Life ‘bakes’ thrusts our trembled minds,
Hearts and soft souls to swim.
Happy Birthday Paul from Emma Xxxxxx
Half seen
I’m a flickering flicker,
Not a full burning flame.
A rook on the edge of a checkerboard game;
A row of bold letters but not the full name.
The mist in the darkness,
Not the shadowing Moon.
And a step on wet moss,
Not the wings at high noon.
A hand on the shoulder,
Not a grip on the chest.
A prayer and a sigh,
Not a sign of the Blessed.
But an intake of air
And a flutter of Heart
And a crackle of twig
And a space to depart.
On second glance back
To the space in-between.
It’s part of the Whole
And it’s only half seen.
Emma 10th March 2015.
