Five poems by Jeff Rogers
A son of the Midwest, Jeff Rogers was born in Ohio, but he grew up in Michigan college towns: Kalamazoo, where his father taught at Western Michigan University, and East Lansing, where his mother practiced archaeology at Michigan State University. According to Rogers, his interest in writing and poetry began with a childhood ritual of his mom reading to him at bedtime, which he says “wove a spell of words over me that has never lifted.” In 1983, Rogers dropped out of college to drive across country to Los Angeles in a rust-fringed white Chevy Malibu. Since then, Rogers says that he has “adventured far in the many worlds and across the many landscapes of L.A. among the storied and the unknown.” In Los Angeles, Rogers has been a “working stiff,” a poet, a performer, and a blogger. Rogers grins while he claims to have invented the word “blogger” in 1985 as the nonsense curse word of a two-year-old girl in the poem “Blogger Old Potatoes.” However, he quickly adds “You won’t find that etymology in any dictionary.” Rogers has also written with, performed with, and directed the poetry chorus and theatre troupe known as Gray Pony. Continue reading
Devin Murphy is a performance poet, writer, and director who moved to LA from New York about two years ago.
Check out his original comedic webseries, Here Comes Godot, about artists behaving badly in the downtown NYC theatre scene, at HereComesGodot.com, or under the “Here Comes Godot” channel on YouTube.
You can also find some of Devin’s writing on the beta version of his website “Gone With It Productions,” soon to be updated and relaunched at GoneWithIt.weebly.com.
Here are three of his poems. Enjoy!
I was invited to read in this poetry and spoken word show. The theme is “Fearlessness,” and so I wrote this sonnet:
“Fearlessness” is the chosen theme, you say?
The word—alone—strikes fear in this arch heart.
I fear many things: traffic, tooth decay,
Bears, the acid skin of some men, just to start.
And, in the night, stiff straight, I lay awake,
Because it was chasing me. What was? It!
It was. But that’s when…I take It by the throat
And…I snuggle It close, damned hypocrite.
This is my life, and I am living it.
Day by day by day by day by day by…
It is mine. Mine. Fear: my bitch, my trinket.
When the audience is ready to play…
Fear-less-ness, you say? I want fear. I eat
It for breakfast, and for ev’ry meal and treat.
May 27, 2014