Sean Hill, Dawn Lundy Martin, Carl Phillips, and Nadia Nurhussein
Dawn Lundy Martin
Sean Hill
Nadia Nurhussein
Carl Phillips
Sean Hill and Bakar Wilson
Simone White and
Shelagh Patterson
Evie Shockley
Mendi Obadike1) Cave Canem Poets on the New Haven Green: Rhapsody in the rain
. . . I passed by a group of children, completely engrossed in storytelling. They were perched on colorful jumbo-sized alphabet blocks, swinging their free-hanging legs as they clapped their hands with delight. With the sound of their laughter still ringing in my ear, I made my way toward The Big Tent, where a captive audience (this time, made up of adults) listened to a reading by four African American poets. The event, called Cave Canem on the Green, marks my first exposure to Spoken Word. Prior to this experience, I had never known that the art of poetry could extend to its performance. Throughout the reading, the poets' passionate voices showered over me like the rain pounding down on the tent-top. Spoken Word, I learned, speaks to a deeper sense of cultural and spiritual community. With topics ranging from Valentine's Day at an elementary school to the funky sexy music of James Brown, from the death of a parent to the death of our country's soldiers, Cave Canem covered a melange of human, particularly African American, experience. I felt as if I were listening to a conversation about a powerful history, a collective story that I was privileged enough to catch a glimpse of. These poets, especially Patricia Smith and Tyehimba Jesss, spoke so naturally and fluidly that they gave the impression of coming upon a spontaneous revelation, one that the audience was lucky to have witnessed.
The entire poetry reading felt organic, and I'm glad to have shared in the experience. At one point, Patricia Smith pronounced over the roar of the rain, "God, if there's a You...Stop the relentless season, show us your face." And with that, the storm seemed to resurge with new force. The four poets at Cave Canem spoke to and from something that I could not grasp completely, but its stirring beauty could be felt and appreciated by all.
Past Cave Canem faculty member Tim Seibles and three New York City-based poets -- Aracelis Girmay, Marcus Jackson, and JoAnne McFarland -- read their response to the A Philosophy of Time Travel exhibit, a sculptural installation by five artists who have created a “crash site” simulating the effect of a giant steel pyramid dropped on the museum’s roof.
Kalia Brooks, Studio Museum Program Coordinator (host)
Tim Seibles, Aracelis Girmay, Marcus Jackson, and JoAnne McFarland
Tim Seibles
Aracelis Girmay
Marcus Jackson
JoAnne McFarland
Lita Hooper and Aracelis Girmay
Tim Seibles, Marcus Jackson, and A. Van Jordan
Alison Meyers, Cave Canem Executive Director, and attendeesBRANCUSI’S TIME MACHINE
by Aracelis Girmay
Brancusi, what is it that you wanted here
flying into Harlem in your gold-chain suit?
Did you think you’d go unnoticed?
& is this your camouflage?
Did you hear we’d all be dragons here? Or trees?
Gold chain. Gold snake. Gold corn-row through the roof.
One woman points to the sky & says:
God.
Another woman puts her hand over her eyes.
Henry’s ghost runs up from the belly of the station
& says: I knew, I knew!
Where have I heard this story before?
Is this the ship you come in now, to fill your bags
with Artifacts? Books & sidewalks of the straight-backed
glorious, the paintings & the ink & the sun outside.
Will you take them back with you
to 1930? & on them, sign your name?
Harlem, by Brancusi. Garvey, by Brancusi.
Or have you come, Brancusi, for a visit?
Innocent & wondering enough.
Because you heard the people here
were wonderful. & you love spring.
& you want your hair braided. Oh,
Ms. Zora Neale. & the Schomburg’s gonna
open. & you heard Bjork would be singing
at the Apollo. Did you just want to
come down, Brancusi, come down
& get swallowed up by the sound
of a woman singing over the rush & rain
of her shower? Did you just want to
come down, Brancusi, cross over,
into space, space, outer space,
& black & pitch & oyster
mouth above the pearls,
under your breath did you sing
space, space, outer space?
Tell me, did you think Harlem was that place?
(c) Aracelis Girmay, 2007
Kelly Norman Ellis, Nikky Finney, Naomi 
Frank X Walker & Stephanie Pruitt
Cave Canem Salon
Raina Leon 
Remica L. Bingham reads from Conversion.
Stephanie Pruitt reads from Life on Lay-a-Way
Lita Hooper & Shia Shabazz
Antoinette Brim & Randall Horton
Dante Micheaux
Shia Shabazz & Amanda Johnston
Tara Betts & Raina Leon
Remica L. Bingham
Poets enjoying Gladys Knight & Ron Winan's Chicken & Waffles
Posted by Amanda Johnston
