Day 37: New Orleans
The VESTIGES Project
****
Five from New Orleans:
1) Café Du Monde, which is, no matter how full of tourists, the best place in America to read the paper and eat breakfast while listening to Dixieland Jazz, especially after a long drive through the night from Tuscaloosa in the bumpiest bunk known to poetry watching the sun rise over FEMA trailers.
2) Jan Gilbert and Kevin McCaffery, two amazingly hospitable and warm New Orleaneans who lead us through some of the ghostly neighborhoods of the city, to the 17th Street Canal, the 9th Ward, and East New Orleans on back through to downtown and the French Quarter, showing us what happened to the city last year when disaster stuck and every incompetent blowhard in the country displayed his or her complete ineptitude in the face of adversity.
3) The Mississippi River, still as mythic a thing as we have in this country, and a thing in another life I would love to travel up and down with a boat full of poets, reading at every place ever mentioned by Mark Twain.
4) The Long Black Line.
5) Dave Brinks and Megan Brown, two remarkable poets who, along with the bus&;s own Tonya Foster, gave awesome readings at the Contemporary Arts Center.
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Dave Brinks in New Orleans [0:43m]: Play Now | Play in Popup
1 Comment(s)
Comment by Scott on 10.13.2006 10:14 am
I am out of the country and quite sorry to miss your tour.
But I can still gift your bus with a sonnet: Soul is an imagination that we do not choose to feel. Sweetie, if you were listening with your mouth, then I was seeing with my ears. Can we ever have imagination without vision? I could not see for the smoke. I could see nothing but smoke. The construction workers had cussed so much. Now knowing my motivation, forgive me. I was busy building a bridge.
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October 12th, 2006
Day 36: Tuscaloosa, AL Day 38: Houston
Dave Brinks in New Orleans [0:43m]: Play Now | Play in Popup
1 Comment(s)
Comment by Scott on 10.13.2006 10:14 am
I am out of the country and quite sorry to miss your tour.
But I can still gift your bus with a sonnet: Soul is an imagination that we do not choose to feel. Sweetie, if you were listening with your mouth, then I was seeing with my ears. Can we ever have imagination without vision? I could not see for the smoke. I could see nothing but smoke. The construction workers had cussed so much. Now knowing my motivation, forgive me. I was busy building a bridge.
Comments RSS
TrackBack Identifier URI
Leave a comment
Name (required)
Mail (will not be published) (required)
Website
October 12th, 2006
Day 36: Tuscaloosa, AL Day 38: Houston
