PLU Open Mic featuring Nicholas Manning
VBIQUE POESIS EST
Hallowed be thyne sacred words uttered upon this stage. May they bring praise to language and bless Her with the power of false truths and blessed banalities. Let us anoint Her head with alcohol and fill Her angelic lungs with the vaporous righteousness of filterless nicotine frankincense. Let us revel in the beatific wonders of another sacrosanct Thursday worship service at PLU Open Mic. In your name we prey [sic]: hallelujah.
The high-priestess Kate Noakes, ritually the first reader, was Sent for sacrificial Meat, but it turned out to be a man. So she settled for a Rat the Size of a Chihuahua. Megan brought word of the holy Nuit Blanche and fireworks over the sacred river, The Seine. Bill, permanent Parisian missionary from New Jersey, inspired by the spirit of the late Morrison, I Wanted to be a Face in the Rain. Carole as poetically revealed that PLU is an oxymoron and then taught us some Google poetics with La Fourge and This, You. Lisa, still from Canada, recited the gospel of a Sex Poem with no Sex before Meatwolf and Vinegarpig struck back.
Remi sold some Belleville Park Pages and sang a sappy love song for the archbishop Wizard of Oz. Elliot, a virgin in denial, gave an ode to Walk, showing us “the road is altogether new”. Lauren, back from wherever she was, became my favorite poet of all time: CATS! Somewhere in Paris, my Cat and then reviewed the Year of October. Jenna, cheap as always, kept her story short. Finally, our guest spirit of the evening, Nicholas Manning, high-educator of the Sorbonne IV, instructed his disciples with all new materials: The Place itself is Outside Me, I’m not Your Friend Anymore and This is the Wrong Place for Skeletons, gemmed with great two-word combos like absent inertia, impatient arabesques and complex bullshit.
Homo Sentimentalis – Nicholas Manning from Nicholas Manning on Vimeo.
The Late Service
Paris’ cherub, Victor, hymned You’re a Sacrifice with his harp followed by Laala‘s guest appearance from Spoken Word London, was Walking on Water and asked Are you Bi(lingual)? Bill came back before going to bed, and so did Nicholas reading from his most recent sacred text, Homo Sentimentalis. Emma raised the spirit of Goethe back from the dead, enchanting in German his Prometheus. Tucker, who is immortalizing us this week with his divine photos, pronounced the holiest word of all: FUCK. Arin sang her very own heavenly Let it Be accapella followed by the prettiest name of the night, Sierra, a new believer (and therefore virgin) to Paris who combined Growth + Depression and celebrated the cathedral of this city’s Autumnal. Finally, Louisa gave the closing remarks through the words of Anne Carole‘s Freud, First Draft.
Nicholas Manning is Maître de conférences
(Associate Professor) in American Literature at the Sorbonne. He is the founding editor of The Continental Review
and the author of two poetic cycles: Novaless. Elements Towards a Metaphysic
, and Homo Sentimentalis. A Guide In Verse To Modern Emotional Intimacy.
His study of sincerity in 20th century poetics, entitled Rhétorique de la sincérité. La poésie moderne en quête d’un langage vrai
, is forthcoming from Honoré Champion, Paris.