[Local events] Spare Room presents Evan Kennedy and Jen Coleman reading and book release, December 8

Endi Hartigan ebhartigan at q.com
Sun Nov 24 12:52:09 PST 2013

Spare Room presents 
Jen Coleman & Evan Kennedy 

Sunday, December 8, 7:30 pm 

IPRC, 1001 SE Division Street 

Please join us to hear the work of Evan Kennedy and Jen Coleman, and to celebrate the release of Jen's Psalms for Dogs and Sorcerers. 

Upcoming readings: Feb. 16 Marathon reading: Alice Notley's Descent of Alette & William Blake's America: A Prophecy 

Feb. 23: 

Stephanie Strickland & 
Alan Bernheimer 

Evan Kennedy is a poet and bicyclist who lives in San Francisco. He is the author of Terra Firmament (Krupskaya), Shoo-Ins to Ruin (Gold Wake Press), and Us Them Poems (BookThug). 

Jen Coleman , a Portland, OR resident by way of Minnesota, DC and New York, co-hosts readings with the Spare Room Collective and works for Oregon Environmental Council. She recently participated in the 13 Hats collaborative of artists and writers. Psalms for Dogs and Sorcerers (Trembling Pillow Press) is her first full-length volume of poetry. 

Cantico Del Sole 
(after Francis of Assisi) 

Francis called the fog God's creature 
from fear and amity. Fire could speak 
to me about how your kicks tried stamping 
it out but I still wouldn't know you 
from Francis or those dead to law. 
I am on a bicycle lowly yet manifold 
in dimness. Francis called the dirt God's 
creature from tears and fealty. Beer bust 
dances, the classics widely read, 
our confraternity edged by death decades 
ago in this town named after Francis, 
from whom I don't know you but harbor 
promise. Francis called the wind 
God's creature from slyness and solace. 
He sang through the state in the '80s, 
always an active river at his back. Fish could 
speak to me about how your eager bonhomie 
addressed the presence of their lives, but 
I still wouldn't know you from Francis, 
those dead to law, or even the black bloc. 
Francis called the moon God's creature 
though in shock and hunger. Facing ridicule 
and wonder, he sang through town 
and was mugged when mistaken 
for a troubadour. It's true that more poets 
could speak to me about how your sounded 
name soothes the sensations within 
my dominion, but I still wouldn't know you 
from Francis, those dead to law, the black 
bloc, or any of his other resemblances. 
Francis called the sun God's creature from 
love, and the promise that his likenesses 
would adopt this eponymous town. 

--Evan Kennedy 

A Matter That Is Possible But Does Not 
Naturally Occur in Our Environment: 

Gee, is that really a mountain lion, 

I say, spotting the four-faced passenger 
on the Downtown 4 train 

with wheels within wheels 
shrieking along a curve 
under Spring street. 

Is that a mountain lion? Gee! 
I say it a few times. 

And because language passes for truth 
and order is disordered 
the mountain lion 
gives a long yowl. 

A yowl with no audible answer. 
A yowl: a model for words 
at the very limit. 
A yowl that demands physical integrity 
even as some part of myself escapes 
cohesion and falls to pieces. 

--Jen Coleman 
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