Assumption College, Emmanuel d'Alzon Library
D'Alzon Arts
Past Poetry Readings, 2007-2008

Dan Memmolo & Ryk McIntyre
Featured Poets
Friday, March 28, 7:00 p.m.

Dave Macpherson Robert Gill
Featured Poets
Friday, February 15, 7:00 p.m.

John Dorsey & Dan Provost
Featured Poets 
Friday, November
16, 7:00 p.m.

Rodger Martin &
Lisa C. Taylor
Featured Poets
Friday, October 19, 7:00 p.m.

Stephen Campiglio & AJ Juarez
Featured Poets
Friday, September 21, 7:00 p.m.


March 28, 2008

Dan Memmolo

Dan Memmolo's poetry has appeared in   Another Chicago Magazine, New York Quarterly, Southern Poetry Review, Sycamore ReviewControlled Burnand Lily. His chapbook, BEAT SURRENDER, was selected as a finalist for Main Street Rag's annual chapbook contest and has been published as part of their Editor's Choice Chapbook Series.

He holds a BA in English from Florida State University, an MLIS from the University of Rhode Island and an MFA in Creative Writing from Virginia Commonwealth University. Dan lives in Rhode Island with his wife and son.

Just Like That

You could see it coming

the moment the big guy climbed

on stage and started banging

his head into something imaginary.

When he launched himself

into the crowd belowarms extended

like a super hero, lips taut

in a grin of ecstasyeveryone

scattered, looking for cover.

He had to land somewhere

and the smallish girl sipping

a dollar beer and chatting

with her friend would provide

just enough cushion.

 

And the band played on,

though more subdueddemented

rockabilly subsiding into boozy

elevator musicas the paramedics

attended to the girl and lifted

her body onto a stretcher.

I watched it all with my arm

around a girl who would

not become my wife,

who would not even become

a second date.  I have trouble

picturing her now, her image

drifting through my consciousness

as if blown by a steady wind.

 

I confuse her with the girl

on the stretcher, motionless,

her head hitting the concrete

with a hard merciless slap. 

I confuse her with the big guy,

the way he picked himself up

and darted through the crowd

before anyone realized what happened,

 

(no stanza break)

 

that look of pure fright in his eyes

before he ducked his head and ran.

I confuse her with myself at the time,

so young and vigorous and hardly thinking,

just moving instinctively through life

toward something I could not have defined.


Ryk McIntyre
Ryk McIntyre is a three-time National Poetry Slam Team member, as well as Co-host at The Cantab Poetry Reading. He has toured nationally and in Canada, opening for acts as varied as Leon Redbone and Jim Carroll, as well as appearing as part of Lollapalooza 1994. He performed in "The Legends Of Slam" Showcase at NPS2006. He has been published in Short-Fuse- An Anthology Of New Fusion Poets, 100 Poets Against The New World Order, Nth Position Magazine and The Worcester Review. He is a known biped, and he has pretty blue eyes.











February 15, 2008

Dave Macpherson
Dave Macpherson
lives with his beautiful wife Heather in Worcester. He is a storyteller, performance poet and regular of the Central Massachusetts Spoken Word scene. He was on two National Slam Teams from Worcester, 2000 and 2003. He was a featured performer at the 3 Apples Storytelling Festival in 2001. He has performed his pieces all over New England. He is a co-editor of Ballard Street Poetry Journal. He is the host of the monthly Worcester Storytellers reading. His work has appeared in The Worcester Review, Poets in the Galleries, Tiny Lights, The November 3rd Club, Everyday Fiction, Mud Luscious, LitBits, among others. He bounces when he performs, its kinda funny.













Bob Gill writes about life, nature and the world around him when the mood or the muse strikes.  A computer professional by day he finds that poetry helps to provide balance in a complex world.  In a collision of worlds he maintains the website for the Poets' Asylum - www.poetsasylum.org.

Lay Me Down by Robert W. Gill

This is the harmony of the night
Seven notes playing for tomorrow
Written against a backdrop of snowfall
Lifting dreams to glory.

Sing on morning dove
Of blessed wholeness and sunset mornings
Waylaid beauty run amok
Drawing us like a cliche.

Tomorrow will offer up
Shattered stained glass candy
Framed prints of Nietzsche quotes
Tequila bottles, half empty, swollen & wanting.

Count off today's enigmas
Number, inventory and catalog them
Seize this precious moment
Even while not realizing it's worth

Forget not the ripening of grapes
Late summer harvest, divine flotsam
Dance music for an inner place
There is a beat here waiting to be tapped.

If sleep comes let it be fertile
Filled with plowshares, gold dust and sweat
Draw each breath as an anointing
Each exhale as it if were the last

Listen to the drawing of blood
Each drop is life withdrawn
Believe, savor, rejoice and receive
Good night my love.
Robert Gill




November 16, 2007

Dan ProvostDan Provost is the Assistant Director of Graduate Services at Assumption College.  He has been published in numerous poetry magazines and on-line publications.  His fourth chapbook,"The 21'st Century Wretch" was published in April, 2007 by Scintillating Press. He is also the Head Football Coach of Keefe Tech High School in Framingham.

Sleeping in the Park

 

 

Nothing else matters

but the clothes on your back and

a chance to sense that somewhere…someone

is enjoying the same sunrise as you are…

 

I write these words at a frantic pace so I

do not give myself an opportunity to think…All

around me is unified panic—stares that foreshadow

a blinding rage that builds and builds…until murmurs

of death become screams from the precipice.

 

Then I slowly dust off the remains of last night’s

escape and look toward the east,

 

Same sun…same life…different demise.

John Dorsey is currently an Artist In Residence at
the Collingwood Arts Center in Toledo, OH.  He is the
author of such books as "harvey keitel, harvey keitel,
harvey keitel" with S.A. Griffin and Scott Wannberg,
Butcher Shop Press/Rose of Sharon Press/Temple of Man,
2005 and "Teaching The Dead To Sing:The Outlaw's
Prayer" Rose of Sharon Press, 2006. He can be reached
at archerevans@yahoo.com

John Dorsey
blues for a 9 millimeter ghosttown

on most days you
will find them here
detroit land of the
casual werewolf they
will sing you to
sleep on magic ave.
they say to drink
dark milk wait for
the commentary of shadows
here even the ghosts
carry 9 millimeters through
streets of broken dreams
tucked inside a book
your language has yet
to be written down
you'll see the sun
doesn't shine here god
lost a coin toss
and decided to build
housing projects on the
outskirts of heaven the
earth was hand made
a paradise of masturbation
where the children tell
stories in silence hungry
the dead send their
street sweepers through to
collect your dreams and
gather in a circle
before eating their
                     young





October 19, 2007
Rodger Martin has published one volume of poetry, The Nemo Poems.  He is the recipient of two National Endowment for the Humanities Fellowships, a Council for Basic Education Fellowship, a New Hampshire State Council on the Arts Fellowship in fiction, and the APPALACHIA prize for poetry.  His poetry, fiction, and critical work has been published throughout the United States and in China, where he has been anthologized in Selected Poems of Contemporary American and European Poets.  As managing editor, The Worcester Review has received both a National Endowment for the Arts grant and a Pushcart nomination.

Rodger Martin









Photo by Deb Porter-Hayes

October:  The Hunter’s Moon
 
Wolf
 
In the 3 a.m. dark,
I nuzzle you well, own my dream
And the leafless stem of time.
 
In the soft breathing
your pads become my tread.
your smooth, worn claws
glisten in the starlight.
 
From Saginaw to McKinley
your night echo wails
off the canyon wall.
 
I watch, through your dark cornea,
the elk pick in the mist-choked swamp,
       
                And late at moon, wolf,
 
when the silence of my kind
erases the present,  I taste
from your tongue
and feel the incisor cut
living from the dead.


Mouse

 

The tail protrudes from the wheel well

of my Toyota. I think it is a twig

until I see its utter pinkness,

glimpse of matted fur dark with blood.

 

I’ve been unconsciously spinning away life.

I’m afraid of that small corpse,

can’t stand its weightlessness.

And I wonder what to do with it. 

Bury it in the backyard

or let it soften under leaves?  What

about the cat?  I can’t bear

thin bones snapping.



I pretend I’m not a part

of this drama. 

I was only doing thirty.



Harsh, vital world. 

Lives catch under wheels.

I must stop my rushing,

these continuous murders.

Lisa C. Taylor


Lisa C. Taylor
teaches creative writing at EASTCONN Arts at the Capitol Theater (ACT), an arts magnet high school in Willimantic, Conn.    She is also a writer-in-residence for EASTCONN and coordinates the Connecticut State Department of Education  interdistrict grant Imagination Connections where she helps 300 second graders write storybooks or books of poetry with a partner class.  This grant is managed by EASTCONN.  

 Lisa received her B.A. in English and M.A. in Counseling from University of Conn.  She also holds an MFA in Creative Writing from the Stonecoast Writing Program (www.usm.maine.edu/stonecoastmfa) in Portland, Maine.  Talking to Trees, published by Finishing Line Press (www.finishinglinepress.com) , a poetry publisher in Georgetown, Kentucky, is Lisa’s third collection of poetry.  Her work has been widely published in journals, anthologies and literary magazines, most recently Birmingham Review, Pine Island Journal of New England Poetry, The Healing Muse, and Red Rock Review, and she has had poetry nominated for the Pushcart Prize.  She has participated in readings all over New England including Hartford’s First Night, Willimantic’s Third Thursday streetfest and numerous cafes and bookstores.   For more information about her writing, go to her web site www.lisactaylor.com.  An Audio Book CD of this collection is available at readings and through her web site.

About Talking to Trees, the poet and non-fiction writer, Baron Wormser has written:

At the core of Lisa C. Taylor’s poetry resides an honesty of awe, a bittersweet awareness of how little we know and how much we care.  Her poems often seem like parables.  Through adroit, haunting images, she traces our fraught, and at times dire intersections.  A poet of both depth and gravity, she never averts her gaze yet her tone remains tender—a heartfelt sagesse.”

            New York poet and translator Laure-Anne Bosselaar writes:  Whether recalling the ‘thistle and crash’ of her youth or capturing the ‘sweet heat of time and alchemy’, Lisa C. Taylor’s poems shift between internal and external landscapes with remarkable fluidity.”

            Annie Finch, poet, and writer and the director of the Stonecoast MFA writes: “Lisa C. Taylor’s poems are marked by their arresting combination of fertile, funky natural imagery with courageous and searching emotional honesty.  As she writes, ‘in the eventual darkness/this will be what matters.’” 

            Lisa’s poetry deals with the contemporary world and issues of grief, love, and life transitions.  Lisa says, “Like dance, poetry for me can be about the smallest movements.  A mouse caught in a hubcap, two estranged lovers standing in front of a church with their children, an old woman praying, the first snow—these moments can be captured and preserved as a necessary part of our humanity.  I strive to give a voice to those who cannot or will not speak for themselves—both old and young.”  







September 21, 2007
Stephen Campiglio

Stephen Campiglio is a full descendant from the Italian region of Abruzzo, from where his four grandparents emigrated as young men and women. He grew up in the Merrimack River Valley of northeastern MA. After earning his B.A. in English from Worcester State College, he led a transient life for several years, living in Boston, San Francisco, Missoula, MT (with one year in the University’s MFA program), and Portland, OR. He later became a bookseller and manager for Borders Book Shop in Framingham, MA, where he founded and coordinated the store’s monthly poetry reading series. After earning an M.A. in Education from Assumption College, he taught English at Holy Name High School in Worcester before becoming the education manager for Junior Achievement of Central Massachusetts. He now works in the Continuing Education Division at Manchester Community College in CT, where he serves as program associate and catalog editor for the Credit-Free Program. He also founded and coordinates the Mishi-maya-gat Spoken Word & Music Series at the College. His work has appeared in Anthology of New England Writers, Ekphrasis, Natural Bridge, 96 Inc, Osiris, The Peralta Press, Sahara, and The Worcester Review, among others, and he will be the featured poet in the summer ’08 issue of Italian Americana.

THE HISTORICAL SOCIETY’S HOUSED IN A TRANSPORTED
DENTIST
BUILDING
AND IT’S ALWAYS CLOSED


There is no history there anymore.
The town bulldozed the oldest country store
in the country for a grass lot.
 
Groveland—land of groves,
was once renowned for its Eastern Pine
and also for its Pines Speedway.
 
When I was youngster I remember
on certain Saturday nights in summer
being able to hear the race cars from a mile away
 
and how the laps of my restless thought
were driven to sleep.
The conditional erasures in my life
 
are like that grove of Eastern Pines
which was cleared into a ghost grove
for the Speedway,
 
whose phantom track now provides
a horseshoe for municipal traffic
and the park where I played ball with my son today.

AJ Juarez

My mother told a story about a wise man from her village, who said.“ I am from where things go well.” Aesthetically, I am from Worcester.  Specifically, I am from Castle Street. It was on that street that  I found my voice as an artist, a poet, and a musician.

          Folks I met in  Wormtown, like Michel Duncan Merle, Esther Heggie, Jean Lozoraitis, Jonathan Blake, Dave Nader, Michael Lukaszeviczs, Alex Ford (may he rest in peace), Sid Buxton, Stephen Campiglio, Susan Lozoraotis, Jay Rouleau, Marcela Uribe,  Creed Dew, Chris Gilbert, Brian, Chuck, and Chipper Mijka, and Sheri and Brian Jyringi, helped shaped, and continue to inform, how I see color, write, play my flutes, and sing.

          Many of those folks have scattered, literally, to the four winds. Yet, I know that the electric importance of our time in Worcester, remains with us all. Our time together is a kind of tribute to this city and its culture of possibilities that allowed us to explore and to take chances. In my time in Worcester Castle Street, we started The Ghost Shadows (an alternative rock band) and Noh Place Artist Coop. We became members of Grove Street Gallery and WAG , ran A Jazz series, created the usual tour of Worcester, and became politically active and so much more. In my experience,   Worcester’s artistic, social, and cultural life tends towards possibilities and not restrictions.  May this culture of possibilities continues to thrive in Worcester.

                   On a personal note, I  am the  son of two exceptional  Native people,  Pabla and Marcelino Juarez (Of the Zuni and Yaqui tribes). In my family unit, we place a high value on the power of one's mind and the chaos of possibilities. Their legacy of exploring the chaos of possibilities is my greatest asset. My parents’ guiding example has shaped, and continues to shape, my life.

           My family is an ancient family, and we can retell the stories of ancestors long dead, dating back to the days before we (Natives) discovered Cristofo Colombo while he was looking for a passage to India. This knowledge has been my shield against the evil forces that look down on other living beings and those who fear possibilities. In those possibilities, I am of Zuni, Yaqui, I am of Worcester, and of Belchertown, where I live Donna my wife and my sons Elijah, Robbie, Pablo and Ian

          I keep memories of the generations; therefore, I know that I belong in the family of world nations (the two legged, the winged ones, the water beings, etc.). They are all my relations.  As a member of the human family, I walk in the freedom of native people exemplified by  the words of the Chicano poet Alurista:

   'Scars of history on my face, and the veins of my 
      
     body that ache,

           vomita sangre  y llora libertad.
 
           [it vomits blood and cries liberty]

            I do not ask for freedom.

            I am freedom ! 

In the spirit of exchange,

A.J.

ellis6065@charter.net or call me @ 413 204-4426

AJ Juarez



(For my mother)
GIFTS
 
The earth was tough and dry,
Now it is ready to give life.
Hard corners of my soul are made tender by helping mother give away her gifts.
 
While planting the corn, the squash, and the beans,
I heard the high pitched voices of my ancestor's,
sing the song of
expected harvest. Ayy Toto sawi=sewa yuege was sime 



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Emmanuel d'Alzon Library, First Floor
Assumption College
500 Salisbury Street
Worcester, MA  01609
508-767-7272

Page last updated: August 21, 2008