Poetry Jam

I went to a poetry jam one night this week. It wasn't my first jam session, but it was my first poetry reading since living here in Cleveland. When I lived in Seattle, poetry jam's were as common as coffee shops. There was one located on every corner and they were always piping hot.

The Literary Cafe is, and as far as I can tell has always been an artist hot spot in my humble neighborhood. The Lit. hosts monthly poetry jam sessions on the second Thursday of every month, and our very own, Steve Goldberg is spear-heading these events. It felt good being around other like minded people; writers tend to be a breed all to their own. Only other writers know exactly what I'm referring to. We're crazy and have weird things floating inside our brains. Nuff said.

Among all the new, hopefull poets in the room that night, there were two special poets at the jam, David Smith and T.M. Gottl. Both published writers; both equally fabulous. Without taking anything away from T.M. Gottl's poignant and powerful verse, David Smith's reading resonanted with me. He's from SoCal, and a few of his readings reminded me of the place I used to call home.

Ciao
NB

p.s. Speaking of poetry....does the word, jam connotate a sexual image...? The Rolling Stone's song, Some Girls: "Black girls just wanna get fucked all night, I just don't have that much jam." I'm cruising down Mission Blvd on my way to Mission Beach in my VW bug; jamming to the Stones right now. Okay, circa 1979.