Dare to Escape

by Jennifer Pemberton

February eleventh’s readings of Dennis Held and Claire Davis may not have been anything like the Beatnik poetry readings my father remembers attending in college, but the overwhelming feeling of escape was certainly there. Something in the rhythm of their words surged through my soul even without accompanying drums. I suppose that this is the essence of poetry. Whether or not the subject matter was pertinent to my life was irrelevant; poetry can be striking whether its content is interesting, appealing, or neither.

The courtroom was only a void waiting for a legal proceeding to take place before the artists entered, bringing with them the ambiance that belonged in a corner coffee shop rather than a court of law. And though I had never seen either writer before that Wednesday night, somehow I knew that it had to be them when they entered the room. Something in Mr. Held’s bowtie and suspenders leaked his secret identity of "the poet."

After her semi-informal introduction, Claire opened with a poem inspired by her lover. Though I cannot recall a single line from the selection nor its title, I do remember pondering how wonderful it would be if I had so lovely and moving a poem written from my inspiration. For the sake of and in the spirit of the approaching St. Valentine’s Day, she spent the remainder of her time sharing the love story ("unlikely love story" is the phrase I believe she used in its introduction) of a corpulent man nicknamed Pinky and an iron-hearted woman ironically named Rose. It was a beautifully descriptive short story more specifically an exploration of the human heart than just plain love. Her presentation of the piece had all the feeling necessary to convey her powerful narrative about human emotion. She sang outloud the songs that Pinky sang on the pages, bringing to life more fully the characters she introduced to her audience.

Where Claire’s reading reached out and tampered with the heart, Dennis’s work meddled in the mind. He opened with a clever poetic depiction of himself, but then proceeded directly to the thought-provoking and somewhat wistful following selections. These poems left me in an overly pensive trance, thus proving their power. He read many works about his family and childhood and life experiences. He commented often on humanity and life. The most striking of these to me was a reflection on a cadaver lab he attended with a friend. It was so poignantly descriptive I was afraid to visualize his words, but I did--everything down to the "grey corduroy" muscles. It was a compelling and charming piece even in its morbidity: a fine verbalization of the horror in the first encounter with the inhuman bodies of scientific research. Dennis had a way of softening the blows of his borderline disturbing work with his curious wit. He ended with his more humorous and perhaps less weighty selections which the audience seemed to receive appreciatively.

Listening to Claire and Dennis read their work sent me to the realm of words and imagination, inspiring me to use the feelings and ideas they envoked to write my own work. I’m sure not everyone in attendance left the courtroom with the intention of writing as a result, but I am sure, however, that everyone left with some thought they had never thought or some feeling they had never felt. There were no doubt individuals who didn’t particularly care for the artists’ work, but I hope that every audience member appreciated the talent of Claire and Dennis. It isn’t necessary for all literature to be agreeable to be admired for its aesthetic value. I think it would be worthwhile for anyone to attend a reading for this reason. I would recommend Claire Davis’s work because of her witty and imaginative use of words and creative images. For Dennis Held’s poetry, it would be much more insightful to hear the poet reading his work than to simply read it because of the personality he incorporates into what he is reading. I don’t think that I would have enjoyed his poems nearly as much had I experienced them as words on paper. His character brought those words to life. Because poetry and fiction are forms of art, they are subject to the criticism and taste of their audiences. By no means will all selections from both fields appeal to any one individual, but that should never keep one from daring to experience and appreciate them.