Shots in the Night: The Poetry Show!

http://www.kkfi.org/program-episodes/shots-night-poetry-show

This is an unusual Shots in the Night show. Tonight’s show is about our city, its people, its feelings, and its life, described through poetry by local artists.  If you think you don’t like poetry, you are in for a pleasant surprise, because many of these poems are more like storytelling.

Featuring: Gregory Cenac, Linda Kay Davis, Patrick Dobson, Sharon Eiker, Kathy Hughes, Silvia Kofler, Will Leatham, Michelle Pond, Jeanette Powers, Jason Preu, Larry Welling, and Brandon Whitehead.

Poems read by Rosena Baumli and Jason Preu.

Shots in the Night: The Poetry Show!

2017 Kansas City Poetry Throwdown

Videos of every reading here, in reverse order:

https://www.facebook.com/pg/KCPoetryThrowdown/videos/

I may have some thoughts to put out later, but likely anything I’d write would be a variation of WOW! so I’ll probably just get back to the regularly scheduled programming here soon.

To all those that made it out, thanks for making the event fantastic.

To those that couldn’t make it: try harder next year!

2017 Kansas City Poetry Throwdown

Friday Lyrics Mash: The Wind Beneath My Broken Wings

Take these broken wings
Take these broken wings
’cause you are the wind beneath my wings
’cause you are the wind beneath my wings
’cause you are the wind beneath my wings
’cause you are the wind beneath my wings
Oh, the wind beneath my wings
You, you, you, you are the wind beneath my wings
So take these broken wings
Oh, you, you, you, the wind beneath my wings
Oh, you, you, you, the wind beneath my wings
Thank God for you, the wind beneath my wings
So take these broken wings
Take these broken wings

Friday Lyrics Mash: The Wind Beneath My Broken Wings

The World’s Most Frizzled Toothbrush

The man stands
in front of his bathroom window,
holding the world’s most frizzled toothbrush;
toothbrush with bristles
like an electrocuted tribble.

He keeps
one grey eye
on the house
across the street
and that one window
with a light
that never goes out,
that never casts
any shadow
across drawn, pale,
yellow curtains.

He keeps
his other grey eye
on his toothbrush’s gnarled reflection,
frayed bristles
lighting up
like a fiber-optic tree
with every car
that drives by.

The bristles shift
in color
from ripe banana
to blank paper
to open wound
to healing scar.

He considers
walking
across the street,
knocking
on the door,
inquiring
about that never-darkened room.

He considers
replacing
that grizzled toothbrush;
considers
upgrading
to a plaque-annihilating model.

The man
turns off
his bathroom light
and purposefully
brushes his teeth
bathed in headlights
of passing cars.

He spits
into a dark hole,

gazes
across the street,

waits
for shadow.

The World’s Most Frizzled Toothbrush