Відео

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Gen x being cringe af

Thank you, KR. Keep at it!

I also used to own the VHS version. My old roommate and I used to have watch parties with it in Madison. We had half the pieces memorized. THANK YOU for your archive!!

i watch this at least every month

I never forgot this little film that i caught on TV in the early 90s? Late 80s? Was it PBS or Public Access? I have thought of it (and on it) many many times over the years. Thank you so much for your show and for posting this.

...Wait, is the "John Leguizamo" in this episode the same "Jon Leguizamo" from the Mario movie? Not the RECENT Mario movie, mind you, but a near-disastrous 1993 Mario movie in which Bowser was "President Koopa" for some reason, the princess was "Daisy" (and not the actual Princess Daisy, who was still six years away from becoming relevant...), and Goombas were incredibly creepy humans with tiny heads. D: Apparently, he was offered a chance to be in the newer Mario movie, but turned it down.

Interesting.

I can watch this over and over again, and love it more each time. Great, raw, powerful. Thanks.

Allen's sense of humor is delightful! While Tai Chi-ing, his fleeting random thoughts or "monkey mind" chatters away, and he records and recites it in poetry...so true to life and relatable. Enjoyed this video, and enjoy hearing Allen's voice reading his poetry.

he is so beautiful. inside and out!

Great doc thanks for the research and for sharing your experiences with the world.

👏 👏. On point!

One of my favorite poets. Sad to hear about his passing a few years ago. Still hoping that Carcanet will publish his Collected Poems eventually.

2:19 There’s an F word on the show! This show is a PBS Kids show keep that in mind.

Both gorgeous and fucking hilarious

Love it’s creepy 1980s aesthetics

Amazing vid thanks

<3

one of my favorite videos of all time!

Just returning to her reading of this poem, anything of June Jordan live. I've watched these countless times over many years here on You'Tube...Why isn't there more! ? If I wanted to hear Bukowski, I could watch films of him reading live ad-nauseum! Why can't I find more June, more Audrey Lorde...!!!? There must be more out there. I love this poem for its cutting defiance...Just because it's legal, doesn't make it right! Guess I'm glad to have anything of hers to see all these years later.

So beautiful and mystical.

Watching support hi new friend see u around

Thank you for surfacing this. It's incredibly special

thank you, Bob for uploading this!

Third comment

I love this.

Thanks to Diane for making such a relevant piece even til these days 30 years later. Its crazy to me, I'm 20 years old and i saw this piece at moma November 2021, I immediately fell in love with it. Feel so connected to Diane's comprehension and expresion of New York. 🥰

Watched this video again for about the seventh time--I used to own a VHS tape of it. I'm so glad to have a chance to watch it again. Blows me away every time.

Brief Bio: I’m Al Fogel born in 1945 and at an early age began writing poems. In 1962 I was introduced to a neighbor who just returned from Avatar Meher Baba’s “ East west” gathering and handed me a book titled “The Everything and the Nothing” that included brief but powerful passages by Meher Baba that touched me deeply and i became a “ Baba Lover” I continued writing poems and in 2010 while on Jane Reichhold’s AHA website workshopping poems I befriended a Chinese man who helped me perfect my Senryu and Haibun. Subsequently I am now considered one of the nations leading authorities on Tanka , Senryu, and Haibun. Here are some examples of each of my specialties senryu ~ dentist chair the hygienist removes my Bluetooth ~ Internet argument all his words in CAPS hers in EMOTICONS ~ after the divorce he spends more time at the dollar store ~ damsel in distress clarke kent still searching for a phone booth ~ cauliflower ears once a contender now boxing vegetables ~ under the influence - moonshine ~ Audubon sale all variety of seeds. . . early birds welcome ~ Buddhist fortune cookie the unfolded paper reads “ better luck next birth!” ~ sudden downpour. . . the adults run for shelter ~ sidewalk cafe the birds and people tweeting ~ busy crosswalk the seeing eye dog leads the way ~ **senryu is usually humorous, but it can also be serious. For example, the following two of mine are horrific and heartbreaking ( dealing with the Holocaust): ~ cattle cars between the slats human eyes ~ stutthof - the stench of burnt hair from the chimneys ~ Tanka ( I already posted the Jackson Pollock one about painting his face but here’s another Tanka ~ Here is another Tanka: thrift store purchase inside the leather jacket a tarnished half-heart ~ Haibuns The Mathematics of Retribution “Karma is i fathomable,” I inform her It’s late and our conversation turns heavy “ Seems simple to me, “my girlfriend responds. “If I murder you, then it’s reasonable that I will be murdered in this or another life to balance the ledger.” “ Not necessarily so” I’m quick to rejoin. “What if you murdered me in this life because I murdered you in a prior life karmic debts and dues are now equalized.” “But what if I get caught and I go to jail for life. Where’s the equal payback in that?” “As I said, karma is unfathomable.” We continue discussing reincarnation and then add the possibilities of “group karma” to the mix Finally, at about midnight, we fall asleep Stutthof - the stench of burnt hair from the chimneys ~~ Mama There were days when I pretended to be too sick to go to school - - just for mamas loving embrace -her arms the heat of home Even with the onset of dementia, her cheerfulness was so contagious it was a joy being around her despite the illness. She made everyone laugh with her spontaneous unpredictable behavior. nursing home bumper wheelchair her favorite pastime Once a week I would whisk her away from the assisted-living facility and we would spend several hours together -grabbing a meal or frequenting some of her favorite second-hand stores where she loved to shop and donate clothes. When we drove to her favorite thrift in November, her dementia worsened. thrift store the dress mama donated she wants to buy On a cold December morn mama passed. The funeral was simple. There was a light drizzle as the family gathered at the gravesite. One by one, with eyes full of rain, we said our last goodbyes. autumn twilight - oh mama tuck me under hug me one more time ~ ‘Round Midnight It was a huge ballroom on the top floor of a building on Broadway --an important midtown crossroads in the heart of the Great White Way. My uncle still talks with reverence about how -in his heyday -he would travel by rail to the corner of Lenox and walk inside to the beat of jungle music. Who knew what to expect? One night you might be listening with rapt attention to Theloneous Monk and Dizzy Gillespie the godfathers of bebop in their signature beret caps, or the Nicholas Brothers flashing their wild acrobatic spins and splits, or enchanted by the sweet taste of Brown Sugar -with Bojangles out front. And when the Bird was in flight, even the moon was not high enough. But in 1940 the ballroom closed its doors to make way for a commercial housing development and another kind of night. new Harlem the a-train replaced by the bullet ~ Atlantic City New Jersey I had just graduated from high school I remember stopping for saltwater taffy -as evening journeyed slowly into night. Nearing curfew, we sat on a protruded sandy enclave--holding hands, looking out at the ocean, not saying much. In the distance the lights from an ocean liner flickered as the night kept coming on in... first “french kiss” under the boardwalk “over the moon!” ~~ All love, Al

hope you don’t mind me sharing the following poem, one of my all time favorite meta poetic poems by a poet named “Howard Dull” titled “Suibhne Gheilt” that I recently chanced upon. When I read it, I became speechless. And most of my poetry friends consider this as one of their all time favorites. It was published in a 1970s anthology titled “ Open Poetry” and proves that once Poetry hits you in your heart, , you could be the worst nefarious scoundrel with kings and Empires at your command but you will be transformed and never again return to your previous Self. ~~ Suibhne Gheilt 1 He has haunted me now for over a year that madman Suibhne Gheilt who in the middle of a battle looked up and saw something that made him leap up and fly over swords and trees - a poet gifted above all others - 11 How could a proud loud mouth who yelled KILL KILL KILL as he plowed done the enemy - heads rolling off of his sword - be so lifted up ( or fly up as those below saw it - wings beating) be so suddenly gifted with poetry and nest so high in Ireland’s tall trees? Is there a point where all paths cross? And why am I so drawn to him that all my questions seem shot in his direction? “And they ran into the woods and threw their lances and shot their arrows up through the branches” What parallels could I ever hope to find - my refusal to fight ( weaseling out on psychiatric grounds)? my leaving my country behind? my poetry? “and my wife wept on the path below. . . Oh memory is sweet but sweeter is the sorrel in the pool in the path below” I fly down every night to eat 111 Sweeney like the rest of us would have been better off if he had never anything to do with women. But the point of it lies hidden in a pool of milk in a pile of shit for you to see when a milkmaid smiles Sweeney like the rest of us flies down and when she pours the milk into the hole her heel made in the cowdung Sweeney like the rest of us kneels down and drinks and dies on the horn the cowherd hid in it. So before you have anything to do with women remember Sweeney the bird of Ireland lying on his back in the middle of that path in the moonlight. 1V And on my way home this morning ( my wife waiting) my shadow racing up the path ahead of me I saw something ( a black stone?) thrown at the back of its head ducked and spun around so fast I almost fell down - it was a bird flying up into a tree V No good could come out of this war out of what burns in the heart of our highly disciplined John Q. Killer as a whole village bursts into one flame - the villagers streaming like tears towards the forest cover his helicopter’s blades blow the leaves off and and the flame towards. . . as we sit in front of our bubbles watching our president ( whose bubbletalk no one can escape and he is a little bit mad -calling the reporters in for an interview while he’s sitting on the bubble having a bubble movement) and first lady climb into their big bubble bed an Lucy, born of their own bubbles, crawls in between - “ Mah daddy has so many troubles turning the world into a bubble and sick of crossfire - the cries of the women and children flying over his head - he stumbled down to the riverbank and found, the wreckage twisted around the tree behind, his skull. . . Noises, there are noises, noises that can of themselves drive a man mad -NOISES! But last night the Stockhausen penetrated from the four sides of the auditorium, stripping each layer of feeling and thought until all that was left was something the size of a nut - so tiny, so hard, so impenetrable it was alone in the middle of an infinite space. . . -Howard Dull ~~ ps: Howard Dull was such an obscure poet that he never published a book and ( to my knowledge) never published another poem. But OMG, this was so brilliant that in my opinion it should be read and studied at the college level. All love in isolation from Miami Beach, Florida, Al

Enjoyed your poems and unique word choices that enhanced the poem and kept me engaged throughout. I’m a poet specializing in Japanese forms: haiku, tanka, haibun, kyoka, senryu. I hope you don’t mind me sharing a tanka and my haiku, a tribute poem to Bashō’s frog with commentary by the late AHA founder and poet Jane Reichhold who considered my Basho haiku among her top 10 haiku of all time. What an honor. Here’s the Bashō poem and commentary: Bashō’s frog four hundred years of ripples At first the idea of picking only 10 of my favorite haiku seemed a rather daunting task. How could I review all the haiku I have read in my life and decide that there were only 10 that were outstanding? Then realized I was already getting a steady stream of excellent haiku day by day through the AHA forum. The puns and write-offs based on Basho's most famous haiku are so numerous I would have said that nothing new could be said with this method, but here Al Fogel proved me wrong. Perhaps part of my delight in this haiku lies in the fact that I agree with him. Here he is saying one thing about realism-ripples are on a pond after a frog jumps in, but because it refers back to Basho and his famous haiku, he is also saying something about the haiku and authors who have followed him. We, and our work, are just ripples while Basho holds the honor of inventing the idea of the sound of a frog leaping is the sound of water As haiku spreads around the world, making ripples in more and larger ponds, its ripples are wider-including us all. But his last word reminds us all that we are ripples and our lives ephemeral. It will be the frogs that will remain. ~~ And my tanka: returning home from a Jackson Pollock exhibition I smear my face with paint and morph into art ~~ -All love in isolation from Miami Beach, Florida, Al

1995

second comment!!!!!

first comment

My father, Chuck, used to love this poem, before he sadly passed from AIDS.

sneed

#anniversary30th ★☆☆☆ we did not get cable tv in my part of Brooklyn until April of 1991, but this special broadcast again in the summer on the old WNYC-TV public station. I endear it sort of like the 'Style Wars' of spoken word. similar to that film, everyone I showed it to wanted seconds, and a few even ran off to put pen to paper; practicing their stage voice afterwards. thanks for preserving this, Bob.

This woman was beautiful I’m so many ways - and left a beautiful legacy. Thank you, June Jordan. Rest In Peace. Love you,

I hope one day you release what happened next. Thanks for the great footage.

June Jordan. When you can make Financial Planning “amusing” I rest my case. I love your voice and hearing you chuckle when you talk. You are missed more than you’ll ever know. Thank you...

I never made it. lol

Dear Bob, I'm editing a concert video for a UK music festival which includes Gambian music from the Griot tradition. We'd love to be able to use some of your footage to illustrate the performance - is that something you'd be happy fo us to do? If so, do you have any higher-resolution film we could use? Many thanks for your fantastic film making and story-telling!

Amani & King Vision Ultra sent me here

First PR poet/rappers?

Crazy how stuff like this is needed now more than ever.

Perfect! ¡Mil gracias, Bob Holman!

Monsieur toubabou djeli 👍🏼

This hunters ( the donsos) and their style of music can be found only in Mali. They are amazing.

It IS everything. Wonderful!