Hybrids Across America

            The poetry reading at Prairie Lights on April 27, 2009 brought in a huge crowd. The seats were packed, and the aisles were filled with people sitting wherever they could find space. The presentation was supposed to start at 7:00, but at 7:10 they came in to say that it would be postponed until 7:30, but the crowd – a mix of young hipster students to older poetry enthusiasts – never ceased to give off their excited vibes.

            There were three poets who read, Cole Swensen, James Galvin, and Mark Levine. Cole Swensen introduced the book by reading an introduction to the idea behind their anthology, American Hybrid. She spoke so clearly, and with such ease that I could not help but feel relaxed. After her introduction, she read a poem called “Insatiability,” which had a beautiful rhythm that kept the poem moving smoothly the entire time; there was no clear pattern or style that I could find, which was a consistent feature of all of the poems read. American Hybrid is a book of poems written in a mixture of stylistic patterns and forms, which gave the reading itself a lot of uniqueness. Swensen continued to awe us throughout the rest of her performance, whether she was reading a poem or wrapping up the night.

            James Galvin’s presentation of his selected poems was wonderful. He seemed so comfortable in front of the huge audience that I, personally, was amazed at the immediately intimate feeling in the room. One poem that he read was titled “Nature Averts Her Eyes,” and I really enjoyed listening to it, although I am not positive that I completely understood it. It sounded a lot like a stream of consciousness from the perspective of “the fool.” Another poem he read was written in the form of a list; each number on the list was different, and each was just as confusing as the next one. My favorite, number 2, was a repetitive mess of sentences, but each repeat had some part of a word taken out, until it was completely incomprehensible on the last cycle.

            Mark Levine presented his selections in such a way that he seemed to be relating to each person in the room individually. He appeared a bit nervous when he first got up to the microphone, but after some time he just seemed to be carefully considering his words before he said them. He introduced his first poem as an assignment that was completed after dropping acid; this unique introduction to a poem gave an interesting, and quite clear point of view to listen to the poem from. The rest of the poems he read were not his own, but they covered a large range of subjects and styles; from the personification of nature to a repetitive motion, the selections that he read were presented beautifully and, again with so much ease that it felt like he was talking only to me.

            Cole Swensen closed the reading just as she opened it. She read her own selection of poems from the anthology, and the way she presented these poems really emphasized her own, unique voice; she paused a little bit between words, letting the meaning of each word sink in before she rushed on to the next one. One poem that she read, “Yawn,” consisted of metaphors for a yawn, from a snake’s gigantic jaw to the ownership – or lack thereof – of a yawn.

            This poetry reading was more than the cliché gathering of hip writers in a book store. The comfort of the readers, as well as the listeners, made sure not to intimidate anyone out of enjoying the poetry of American Hybrid.

-Suzi O'Hare

American Hybrid of Images and Emotions

As soon as I finished climbing the stairs to the second floor of Prairie Lights Monday night of April 27th, I knew that it would be a challenge to find a place to sit. People were trailing back behind the seats, standing in single file lines. I worked my way up front slowly but surely, and I created a seat on the floor in front of the seats. The room was not loud, but there was an excited murmur emitting from the crowd. I saw a small woman dressed all in black embrace a smartly dressed man, and from their body language I could tell they were writers. They shared a glance between them that was knowing; as if because they both had to communicate with words to everyone else, they found ways to go beneath the words with each other. Shortly after this exchange, the woman approached the podium.

The woman, Cole Swensen, was the co-editor of the book American Hybrid which was the subject of the reading. She read a short opening paragraph, which she revealed was something she wished she had put in the book but had thought of it too late, about the experimental nature of poetry. She also introduced the two other speakers for the event; James Galvin and Mark Levine. She said that the unifying theme of the evening was to be the work of writers who were somehow connected with the University of Iowa or Iowa City; either because they taught there, went to school there, had held readings there, or were going to teach there.

James Galvin was next up to the podium. He was a soft-spoken man, and tended to let his statements and jokes sort of trail off for the audience to take or leave. He began his portion of the reading with an explanation of how the rivers in his native state of Wyoming sometimes run underground, then flow back out again. He then led into his first poem by joking, “This doesn’t have anything to do with that; I just wanted you to know.” His poem was indeed about the river, and his low gravelly voice seemed the perfect match for the vivid scenery described in the poem. Galvin then read a piece titled “Nature Averts Her Eyes,” which described an earthquake and several small incidents occurring during the earthquake. One recurring incident was of a woman peeling an orange, which had strong resonance throughout the piece. The speaker described the woman’s fingers as kinds of beauty, and talked about the glowing of the fingertips that touched the orange. Galvin also read pieces from the book by other poets, one of which, Robert Hass, had a poem which stood out. The poem by Hass had the audible effect of a cell phone with poor reception when read aloud, and the repetition of the lines punctuated the effect.

Mark Levine, the third reader, announced to the audience upon arriving at the podium that he would begin with one of his poems, read some work by others, and then end with his poem in order to create his own hybrid; the crowd chuckled appreciatively. He started with his piece “Chimney Song,” which had a lot of simple rhymes, creating a kind of schoolyard song effect. He read several poems by other authors, but the one that most stood out was “Variations on the Dream of the Rude” by Susan Stuart. This poem had repetition of Christian imagery and themes, such as the tree which becomes the cross which is like a man. One particular line, “from the man, a God took form,” stood out in that it reversed the usual beliefs of religious peoples.

At the end of Mark’s reading, Cole took the podium once more, reading the last selected pieces and thanking the owners of Prairie Lights. It seemed that only about ten minutes had gone by since she was last standing there, yet an hour had somehow slipped away. The poetry had a trancelike effect that was only broken when the audience’s applause concluded the event. As I descended the stairs of Prairie Lights and walked out into the night, I felt somewhat bewildered about the state of mind I was left with. It wasn’t so much of an intense intellectual experience, as an enchanting emotional and imaginative experience.

Laura Jackson