|
George Wallace in NYC at Bowery Poetry Club on New Year's Day 2006 Who is George Wallace?A writer whose work has been translated into nearly a dozen foreign languages, Suffolk County's First Poet Laureate GEORGE WALLACE has engaged audiences internationally from Carnegie Hall to open air festivals, and from tiny coffeeshops and cafes to European palaces. His ninth, tenth and eleventh books were released in 2004, published in Italy, England and in New York, followed by the publication of two more in 2005. He has performed and taught at workshops across America and Europe, appears regularly at Manhattan venues, and on Long Island has for over fifteen years been a driving force in the poetry community, creating radio, television and public performance venues; editing magazine, newspaper and internet publications; and otherwise organizing the means and methods for poetry to happen. His own writing is described by John Hall of Citizen 32 as "Blakeian," by Dennis Pahl of CW Post as "bringing surrealism into the American context and making it work," and by Mario Petrucci of Oxford as possessing "something of Whitman." "My personal saint of contemporary mystical realism," writes Gareth Higgins of the Trinity College, Dublin. On paper and in performance, his poetry shimmers and leaps from jazzy Beat narrative to a dream-like Surrealism, with an unselfconscious and musical quality that has led noted American composer David Amram to call him "a spellbinding reader, using his musical training... to make the words sing." "I am reminded of e e cummings," says Mary de Rachewiltz, daughter of Ezra Pound, "the best I know." For full biographical details on George Wallace, including more samples of his work, visit www.poetrybay.com Contact Us We welcome comments on our webpages as well as invitations to read and to submit our poetry for publication.
WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING
the earth turned left the earth turned right the axis of the planet churned like butter while you were sleeping the soil grew silent the sea grew cautious the sky grew omnivorous cows and humans ran for their lives, blackwidow spiders climbed to the tops of trees bituminous coal fell like liquid diamonds from the mouths of furious strangers plants like dinosaurs shook the land, sheep like lizards shed their wool a man and a penguin and a quarter moon orbited the gates of heaven while you were sleeping rocks grew envious air turned poisonous god grew ravenous the blue impossible waves of oceans fought each other in the eyes of the innocent the wind blew bigger than the lies of presidents the rain blew hotter than tanks the sand blew wider than armored vehicles while you were sleeping sleep-engines rattled, spin-wheels moaned plates and saucers in the cupboard of familiar places shattered to pieces an automobile which had been hired to plunge off the edge of a movie cliff plunged off the edge of an actual cliff - it fell and fell deep into a rocky ravine there was a wedding party inside it and a flock of crows and julia roberts oh yeah, she was in it! and a cockroach and a pair of stockings and an ozone hole a pair of out of work actors on their way to las vegas nevada was in it too someone told them things were better in las vegas than they were in hollywood -- they heard it on the radio, so it must be true. they all burned up in the famous flames. George Wallace Suffolk County, New York Copyright ©2005 George Wallace |
THE OARSMAN he stole the cheese he ate the bait he pissed buttons he clipped his beard with a lobster claw he wasted a lot of kerosene in a hurricane he crapped as big as a portuguese man-o-war he tore a hole in a jellyfish he hid out in a caribbean cave he slept with the wife of a rum merchant when he kissed her it sounded like a harmonica when he was done with that, she farted out came his brat, it was loud as a cannonball he cleaned his teeth with the wing of a gull he slept in a barrel of hard pippins he had a nightmare, rats in papua-new guinea he snored like a garfish at midnight his underwear stunk like an otter his face resembled an octopus whenever he came home from sea nobody in the village would touch him George Wallace Suffolk County, New York Copyright ©2005 George Wallace
Copyright ©2005 George Wallace
|