This Friday, Sep. 5, Flock of Moons Brewing Company presents “Luna & Poesia,” the venue’s monthly night of cold beer and luminary poetry and music inspired by the artists’ experiences in the Duke City and beyond. The poetry round features performances by City of Albuquerque Poet Laureate Damian Flores, Trier Ward and Victory, and celebrates the recent success of local verse storyteller Don McIver, who will present his new book Here: Poems and Stories. As the sun goes down and these local stars begin to shine, let your ears drift to the music of Burning Moonlight, who will be demoing a new song during the showcase. The ways in which this event features interconnected themes, shared experiences and overlapping art forms is definitely a mouthful — McIver and Richard Malcolm (guitar/vocals, Burning Moonlight) were neighbors at one point — but McIver is pretty good with words. He’s happy to share his thoughts and introduce us to a couple of his local muses, but since he’s also an author, we’ll let the pages of his book do some of the talking.
“It’s not a negative portrayal, but it’s not a positive portrayal either. It’s just kind of what life is like in Albuquerque from my perspective,” McIver says. “I live right by University and Central, so even though the university is right here, it’s still kind of a rough-and-tumble part of town, and there are all sorts of weird things that have happened. So, the book was kind of framed around that. And then I added a few other what I would call urban experiences. The cover is based on a photograph of a jetty jack where somebody had graffitied ‘I love it here.’”
McIver says the “here” in his book’s title largely refers to a city where, despite its grittiness, he wouldn’t live anywhere else. McIver has been here since 1991, which has given him plenty of material for a book. He says, although the people who live here are amazing, we probably have outsized problems. But the best part about poetry is that it gives artists permission to make their own judgements about what’s going on around them. And it gives readers that same permission. It’s a political act that says, “You don’t have to take the answers they’re feeding you.”
“The United States’ government — or any sort of government — has a strategy of suppressing voices. And then there’s this new strategy: ‘Don’t suppress it, just drown it out.’” he says. “So, people don’t know where they can turn to find somebody who really reflects what they’re saying. Somebody who really has not been bought and sold and monetized and all that. And poetry, of course, itself, is really hard to monetize.”
McIver has been known to say sarcastically from time to time, “I got into poetry for the money,” but events like Friday’s gathering of poets and lyricists are a way to recognize and celebrate the fact that our weird art community with one degree — or one housing unit — of separation does have its share of success stories. Artists in Burque are making some scratch writing poetry and playing music. And more importantly, people are listening to what they have to say, even if the references are targeted at, or at least, inspired by, the locals.
McIver says that the poetry community might be in a “silo period” right now. Even if we’re in a state of ebb rather than the flowing apex of the early 2000s — Albuquerque hosted (and won) the National Poetry Slam in 2005 — it’s impossible to ignore the fact that poetry-themed events are popping up around town more and more these days. McIver describes the scene as “smaller and a little bit more fragmented.” But that fragmentation isn’t necessarily a bad thing, because cool bars like Flock of Moons are putting the pieces together in ways that bridge time gaps and reunite neighbors through mutual projects. When it comes down to it, things aren’t always pretty in Burque, especially these days, and it’s nice to let things be beautiful in their own way, like Marilyn Monroe getting arrested on Central wearing brown loafers (see McIver’s poem below for clarification). So, head on over to Flock of Moons, soak your brain in some poetry, and douse your anxiety with a couple of pints. And since we’re all a bunch starving artists, it doesn’t hurt that admission is free.
“Obviously, it’s a book release, and I want people to come and buy the book, and I want people to hear me read,” says McIver. “But I also wanted people who I haven’t talked to recently to come hang out and get a beer. Get a chance to say, ‘Hey, this is the town we live in, and this is Don, one of the poets that has been doing things for a long time,’ because the book is great and there’s a lot of good stuff in it. I’m not pretending that I’m Gabrielle Garcia Marquez or Salman Rushdie. I’m just Don McIver, some Joe Schmo poet from Albuquerque, New Mexico.”
The Day I Wore a Dress
(I almost want to start this poem by repeating the title,
but merely typing the above, I know that, now, I don’t have to).
Language has a way of creating,
so here I am…trying to tell you I wore
light brown loafers,
red knee high socks,
a brown rayon dress with white polka dots,
a simple, yet elegant necklace,
a pair of light blue sun glasses,
and a scarf.
Marilyn Monroe incognito.
Luna & Poesia/Don McIver Book Release Party
Sep. 5, 7 p.m.
Flock of Moons Brewing Company
111 Harvard Dr. SE