My posts will pretty much be about the collection of silence till Tuesday. We started off with a hope for forty kids from PS 4 & The Poetry Club but it was maybe thirty or high twenties originally. I’m not used to being around that many kids but the energy was totally infectious in the Burroughs sense. It was their language, but ALL of it. The sounds, the unarticulated energy rocking the gathering. It was great to be around and to my friends who are parents I know this is both why you do it and not the experience you always have. But I was, am in awe. I love kids. I’m suddenly a fan. But I didn’t work with them writing the poem which I will include here. Apparently the day they wrote it was almost impossible but Christine managed to pull this out of them. And when it was revealed that school was out when the performance would occur on Tuesday suddenly only seven of them would be involved. Okay seven, that’s a nice number. By the time I got back from Boulder it was four. Okay four. Even, I guess. Then there were three. That’s the next day. There was an end of the year talent show at school. I went up and met Christine and saw the kids perform. Two. What happened to the other Leslie and Yancielle. The other Leslie didn’t come to school (and she was the extrovert) and Yancielle didn’t bring her permission slip. One of the original seven I learned had a parent who when she heard Buddhists were involved reneged on signing. She didn’t want her kid anywhere near them. That’s amazing. The two kids, Arturo and Leslie were extremely shy and looked scared. The silent performance seemed to have an interesting affect on the room but when they did it aloud they were not much louder than before. I did not manage to say a few words to them after which might have been a fatal blow. Who knows. The room was chaotic and we left. I was taking Christine’s lead. She said let’s go. So now we have their permissions and we hope their parents will bring them as promised. But will they WANT to come. I’m planning to ask them if they would like people standing with them or people reading with them. I’m trying to imagine how it will feel. Meanwhile my girlfriend says I should do what on this blog? I consider texting her. She meant I should break out of the mold, deprofessionalize. Stop proving to the world that this or that is a poetic act. I thought I was doing that all the time but maybe not.
If you are up at the Hispanic Society on Tuesday night at 7PM and then when the performance ends around 8:07 please look towards the lower central staircase. If you can, just head over there. You might see two children standing there, but maybe not. If you would like to you can intone this poem with them, or just us. You can sit on the ground, you can weave or be walking slow. You can do it Buddhist while I mean no disrespect to that kid’s parent or Buddhists themselves. Buddhists will definitely be involved. Maybe Buddhists would like to walk over and read this poem too. There’ll be a copy of it in the pamphlet you get when you walk in the door, but here it is:
Hall of Silence
By Class 401 and The Poetry Club at P.S.4
Silence in your house, it makes you
Sleepy
There’s no such thing as silence when it comes to nature
It’s beautiful to see nature all around you
I’ll fall asleep when I hear the sound of nature
Nature brings possibility
Resting
Colors, colors all around you
Silence makes me wonder
Things all around me
Beauty is a color that I won’t forget
Roads being empty, they are all alone
Ronaldo
Quiet screams the truth
Sometimes when cars pass you don’t really hear anything
Imagination, nature is beauty
Speechless
Quiet
Movement
You walk outside and see the bright yellow sun
You say you will have some fun in the sun
Nature is so beautiful it makes me so relaxed
When I walk through a hallway, there’s no silence near me
Green is the color of the grass on the
Ground
And the colors burst with joy
To play
Walk through the hall of silence
When I walk anywhere all I see is
Nature makes me think about animals flying all around me
Until I burst into a magical universe
Eileen Myles was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and was educated at the University of Massachusetts…
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