Who is Brigid Murnaghan?

A New York Institution and The Grande Dame of The Back Fence's World Famous Sunday afternoon poetry reading and open mic, "The Oldest Bar Poetry Reading in the Village", Brigid has given everybody who is anybody and many of us who are still nobody their first chance to read their poetry in public.

A renowned poet is her own right, she's hung out with the likes of Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac and introduced new comers like Pattie Mahon and Alice Harsmart to the NYC poetry scene.

Her publications include From the Drawer of Brigid Murnaghan: Volume One Diamond Hitch Press, Jamaica NY (1995) and her work appears in THE BEATS: Philosophy of the Beat Generation; Fable of the Final Hour; Visions of Cody; Spontaneous Requiem for the American Indian; Hor Fight at the Mission Corral; Buck is My Benison; Insanity Bit; 13 Nightmares; Beatilles; Peyote; Turnpike, Edited by Seymour Krim, Gold Medal Books, Greenwich, Connecticut (1960)

For more about Brigid, check out Miranda Bloodworth's article on Pace Press Online


©Roxanne Hoffman 2004
Brigid Inspiring Young Writers

HOME BASE:


The Back Fence

The Oldest Bar Poetry Reading in the Village
Every Sunday 3-5PM
@
THE BACK FENCE
155 Bleecker St.
NW Corner of Bleecker & Thompson Sts.
Greenwich Village, NYC
212-475-9221
www.thebackfenceonline.com

Do you read your poetry in your dark room thinking no one will listen to you? You’re frightened what people will think. They’ll think you’ve got guts to read. Every Sunday there is an open reading. Two features are selected. The features are from the open reading. Just think everyone had their first reading at the Fence. Come one and come all. The only restriction is you can’t be stoned!



©Fred McDarrah 1959
Brigid Murnaghan with daughter Annie at the Kettle of Fish, 114 MacDougal Street, 1959



©Roxanne Hoffman 2005
Brigid Seated at The Back Fence


©Roxanne Hoffman 2004
Brigid Lighting Candles

To Be a Poet

Did you hear the one about the Polish poet
who was in it for the money?
They claim we are a race apart.
It's as if we frighten them.
They won't understand.
At a poetry reading I suggested
that poets be paid
as they do musicians.
The look of downright horror
taht one would dare sugget it
straight in my face:
"We don't pay poets!"
One would think we'd take
to driving a cab.
Their cash register
was ringing -- for people came to hear.
Why do they think we can live on air!
Is it to punsish us?
Is it because some of us
hit too close to home?
Or some bad poetry teacher
is the second grade?
I've even though they think starving
makes us better poets.
Yeats was described
by the president of Ireland
as "your Sally Garden friend."
Willie who allowed Irealnd to stand tall.
They cam with the tale
Stallone is going to do the life
of Edgar Allen Poe.
My beloved darling,
what can they do to you?
On this earth you didn't find much peace.
Between the booze
amd the not understanding.
Now Rambo with four pages of dialogue:
"I want...to be loved...
as I...unh...loved my country."
having some jerk would couldn't
wipe his shoes
tell of his Baudelaire period.
Life is not an easy thing.
It would be worse
if there was only four pages of dialoge
to express human conditions
through the ages.

I, for one, am grateful for the poets
through time.
One has a feeling
what life was like.
If left to historians,
mankind would be in worse shape.
They pay historians well
to rewrite history
without feeling
without salt
and a bigger pack of
heartless, mindless liars.
Let's not forget boring.
Waking many a morning and saying
"What have I done right
to be able to do this?" But still would like
to earn an honest day's pay
for a honest day's work.
Now have I've added to legend
"poets are dreamers."

Copyright ©1995 Brigid Murnaghan 



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Brigid Murnaghan
175 Bleecker Street
New York, NY 10012





©Roxanne Hoffman 2004
Brigid Reading at The Back Fence


©Roxanne Hoffman 2004
Brigid's Niece Maureen Chops Limes at the Bar



©Roxanne Hoffman 2004
Jennifer at the Bar