No longer relegated to bookstores and libraries, literary readings are assuming a bigger place in the city's night life. Not since the Beat Generation have bars been so central to literary culture, and this time the venues and offerings are more diverse. Poetry clubs, old and new, pack in crowds for slam competitions. Intimate lounges and neighborhood pubs supplement live music shows with readings and open mikes. Publications like The Village Voice, TimeOut New York, and The L Magazine have separate readings listings. Having attended readings all over downtown for a few years, even I was surprised at how many venues I could visit in a single week.
The Bowery Poetry Club was founded in 2002 by Bob Holman, who previously organized slam nights at the Nuyorican Poets Café on the Lower East Side. The performance space is in the back, through the Bowery's organic cafe. A DJ booth looms over the bar area, and eclectic artwork hangs on the exposed brick walls. Next to the stage sits a Lite-Brite portrait of Walt Whitman. Cocktails bear names like Leaves of Grasshopper and the Allen "Gin"sberg.
The Bowery stands out from other poetry venues because of the number of events on its calendar. Besides slams, there are book launch parties, staged readings, and fringe theater with ninja puppets performing Shakespeare. This evening's show was pure well-rehearsed poetry, with teams coming from as far as Baltimore and Columbus, Ohio. The diverse groups recited rhythmic, emotional, and often angry monologues on race, gender, politics, and poverty. Speaking of the 2004 Asian Tsunami, Carlos Gomez from Columbus exclaimed, "How does a Thai villager prove his family has lived in this plot of land for five generations when he has never needed a deed to come home?"
A teacher from Columbus dedicated a poem to his Latino students, who draw themselves in art class with light skin and blond hair. "Look for other colored pencils," he said. "Smile when you look at yourself in the mirror." There were few performers for whom the crowd didn't stomp or holler.
