Will Kyle will be one of three featured readers at the •chance operations• reading on Monday, April 30, at Duff's, 392 N. Euclid.
The other featured readers are Christy Callahan and Dwight Bitikofer.
Doors open at 7:30 p.m.; admission is $3.
Not only does this reading mark the 2nd anniversary of •chance operations•, April is also National Poetry Month and Jazz Appreciation Month.
To help us celebrate, our musical guest will be Raven Wolf, who recently released his debut recording, Spiritual Jazz ...on South 9th Street.
We will also be giving away a free copy of the 100th Anniversary issue of Poetry to folks who will read a poem from the magazine at our open-mic.
Advance sign-up for the open-mic following the featured readers is encouraged. Click here to sign-up via e-mail.
Will Kyle, a native of St. Louis, earned his BA in English at the University of Iowa and is currently an MFA candidate in poetry at the University of Missouri-St. Louis. Will also performs as a singer/songwriter at open microphones around town. His poetry has been published or is forthcoming in Barbaric Yawp, Great Lakes Review, Earthwords, Big Muddy and elsewhere.
If You Want to be Miserable, Become a Vegan
The sky patters
the roof. You
finish, slip
your spotless
dish into the
sink and scrub
out the drawer
marked Meats.
A square soy
patty lingers
on my plate.
It jiggles
when I poke it.
I wish for
Jimmy Dean
and savor
my last pool
of yellow over
easy as it
ebbs toward
the toasted
whole wheat
with a half
moon missing.
In the garden,
a starling
at the feeder
bullies the thrushes.
The fence rattles
as the garbage
truck beeps
through
the alley
to collect
empty jerky
bags, Twinkie
wrappers,
and cans of Cool
Whip. I ought
to drive
to a bakery
that serves milk
on my way
to work.
I try to screw
the pooch
with the soy.
She sniffs
and withdraws,
leaving only
a screw you
fart behind.
You aim
your sponge
at the cheese
drawer. I mourn
Jarlsburg
and Velveeta.
You say
White Russians
are not part
of our future
routine. Ice
cream too.
What about
Frozen Yogurt?
When I go
for the paper,
a raindrop blows
in my eye.
Why not
a sputter of grease
spit from
crackling pan?
I sigh and rub
my face
as I will come
dinner: broiled
tofu, steamed
broccoli—no cheese.
-- Will Kyle
thanks for the "plug"- that kid was GREAT :)
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