ON ORAL WORD— BEAT TO “DEAF” JAM SLAM

Slams—once the bane of poetry, if the boon of grungy environs, has left the barrooms and stormed academia, as the first conference on hiphop and rap took place in Norfolk, Virginia at the turn of this century. Still—the Def Jam generation has yet to produce giants as impressive as Ginsberg, Kerouac and Kaufman, although it has been a joy to see the spoken word so enthusiastically refreshed. One of my favorite moments of being blasted out of my ears took place in the sweaty confines of a Pacifica radio booth when Austin Straus and I interviewed Jack Micheline (aka Harry Silver, November 6, 1929 – February 27, 1998), on our defunct Poetry Connexion program circa 1995. Feverish in his delivery, Jack forgot himself, sprung up from his chair and began to swing his arm as he sang his paean to Kerouac with the reverence of a Bau gong. The Naropa Institute, in the dedicated hands of Beat survivor Anne Waldman (the eye of the falcon, on fast speaking music) fosters the oral tradition as well as the written. In my playbook, the Tracie Morris “musical poet” experience ties with Ayisha Knight (until, empowerment records), a deaf poet who redefines the art. I laugh out loud whenever I “hear” Ralph LaCharity’s electrifying “Bob” poem, performed at the “post-Beat,” “pre-hiphop” Bisbee, Arizona poetry festival. Say what one may say about “the oral tradition,” connecting to another’s humanity via living forums is an unparalleled event, regardless of venue, place or time.