Monday, August 26, 2019

9/2/19 NO PE, BAPC Picnic.

Noon. Open mic sign up. Potluck. BAPC for more info.

Monday, August 19, 2019

Jerry Ratch Features 8/26

8/26/19 Jerry Ratch hosted by Gary 

Jerry Ratch published 18 books of poetry, and 7 books of prose including the novel: Wild Dreams of Reality, and the Memoir: A Body Divided, the story of a one-armed boy growing up in a two-fisted world. His work can be purchased through the author’s website: . and as kindle books on 

The Fly on Our Pickle

I think I know that fly
That fly followed us from our apartment
On W. 11th St
When I opened the door he flew right in
And when we left, he flew right out again

Followed us on the subway to Times Square
Took the Shuttle apparently
Followed us all the way through the tunnels
Up the escalator and into Grand Central Station

Then down to Juniors in the food court below
Where he joined us for lunch
The best Chicken Caesar Salad on the planet
So famous, even the flies know about it
We asked the waitress for an additional chair
But he took a seat on our pickle instead

“Oh, don’t worry,” we told her
“We know him. He normally lives
“Down in the Village”

The waitress eyed us suspiciously
“East Village or West?” she asked

“Come on!” we said.
“As if that really matters!”

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Laura Schulkind features Monday 8/19/19

8/19/19 Laura Schulkind hosted by Bruce

By day, Laura Schulkind is a school law attorney, privileged to represent public schools, community colleges, and creative educational institutions throughout California. And, as unlikely as it may seem, lawyers (good ones at least) are by nature frustrated poets. They believe in the power of language, and think people’s stories are worth telling. However, they are constrained to tell the stories of others; their own require another outlet. Laura finds hers in poetry.

Laura’s new collection, The Log Arc of Grief(Finishing Line Press), tells stories of grief—inspired and impelled by the loss of her parents, Herb and Rima. But just as they were her models for friendship, loyalty, and resilience, these poems move beyond her own grief to consider how we understand and support those we love in their grief, and ultimately how we all not merely carry on, but live.
Early reviews include:

Laura Schulkind's work radiates intelligence, compassion and a nuanced understanding of what it means to be a daughter, a mother and a friend. She's a fearless truth-teller, shining the light of her poetic language on details we well might have missed otherwise--the small, miraculous moments of discovery, heartbreak and redemption. Barbara Quick (Vivaldi's Virgins)

Laura Schulkind’s new book, The Long Arc of Grief addresses the sorrow of loss … But also present in these well-crafted and touching poems is great affection and devotion, and a wonderful generosity of spirit which lift the poems and the reader up.  Rafaella Del Bourgo (I Am Not Kissing You, and Inexplicable Business: Poems Domestic and Wild.)

Laura’s chapbook, Lost in Tall Grass (Finishing Line Press), was released in May 2014. Her work has also appeared, or is forth coming, in numerous journals including Caveat Lector, The Dos Passos Review, The MacGuffin, Minetta Review, Reed Magazine, and Reunion—The Dallas Review. 
Her published work, and more musings on why “lawyer/poet” is not an oxymoron can be found on her website:

Monday, August 5, 2019

8/12/19 Lori Lynne Armstrong features

8/12/19 Lori Lynne Armstrong hosted by Jim

Lori Lynne Armstrong has been a scientist, a counselor, a mental health patient, and a painkiller addict. Her poetry spans these and many other realms with a style sometimes psychological, sometimes irreverent, but always searingly authentic. Her passions include promoting creative treatment options for the mental health and substance abuse recovery communities and promoting poetry availability for all communities. Her work appears in Poetry Expressed, The Abrams Claghorn exhibit "Have You Heard Us Yet?" and her first chapbook, Queen of Cups. She writes about her life and ongoing projects at
She is not what centuries of men expected to find, when they looked, if they looked, beyond softness, curve, survival smile
lines and planes, unrepentant, edged boundaries mark where she begins and ends. Colors of bruised plums, old blood, rich and dark
spots and patterns tell a story in a language no one but her can read— why these markings? why here? why this slanting angle, not one degree more, not one less, what does it mean, the men
wonder as they stand, lamps uplifted, and she does not speak to tell them, nothing, everything, I am not your puzzle to solve

these opaque walls will never lighten to clear quartz crystal  (never again)