When I was twenty-one, I moved to Manhattan, not knowing a soul, not knowing what had drawn me here—apart from the fact that it was the hub for book publishing and the place to be a writer. I came from a small town where people warned me not to go above 90th street or take the subway after seven at night. I promptly did both and fell instantly in love.
Back then, I was writing poetry. I applied to a workshop with Cynthia Zarin at the 92nd Street Y, and was elated when my work was accepted—and that I would be the youngest student in there. Until the first workshop, where my first submission was eviscerated by the instructor. I never went back (which I’ve always regretted), though I’ve taken many workshops since. First rule of being a writer: Be willing and able to accept rejection. Or else, as one of my instructors at the City College graduate writing program said years later, “Go be an accountant.”
During that first year in New York, when I wasn’t writing or avoiding writing, I swerved through the streets in a daze, dumbstruck by the people, the skyscrapers, the bookstores on almost every corner. My favorite phrase was Have I mentioned how much I love New York City?
Leave it to a Belarusian poet to capture the city’s pulse, the city one sees from the sidewalks looking up.
New York
by Valzhyna Mort
new york, madame,
is a monument to a city
it is
TA-DA
a gigantic pike
whose scales
bristled up stunned
and what used to be just smoke
found a fire that gave it birth
champagne foam
melted into metal
glass rivers
flowing upwards
and things you won’t tell to a priest
you reveal to a cabdriver
even time is sold out
when to the public’s “wow” and “shhh”
out of a black top hat
a tailed magician
is pulling new york
out of the ears of skyscrapers
And check out this short video Poets & Writers did on Valzhyna Mort. You’ll get to see pierogies being made.
*I didn’t know poets had agents too. Except now they’re apparently billed as literary speakers.
4 comments
Comments feed for this article
March 17, 2010 at 6:37 pm
Tracy
Great post and poem. Would love to see one of yours!
March 17, 2010 at 7:12 pm
Chani
Mmmm. This post just made me stop in my strut, tilt my head up skyways, and do a little twirl for all the glory that this town is. I tell you – I am from NY and have never, not never, not once, ever gotten all the desk-thumping conviction about how NY is the greatest town on earth. But this post, seeing things through your eyes, and maybe loving you as I do — the sparkles flashed everywhere. Thank yOU!
March 17, 2010 at 8:48 pm
Chris
Nice oasis in the Internet desert–or dessert, if you’ve just eaten.
Personally, I have come to embrace Procrastination. I love it there. It’s where I can wallow and be myself. When I procrastinate, it means I’m getting stuff done. Maybe not the big, self-actualizing stuff, but let’s just say there’s never a pileup of dishes in the sink.
And notice the ‘pro-‘. Most good, positive things have the ‘pro-‘ prefix. Professional. Propagate. Propane. Proletariat. Procrastination.
If I weren’t a citizen of PN already, I’d be going for the Green Card!
March 18, 2010 at 3:51 am
frameshiftcoaching
I agree with Tracy. Let’s see one of your NYC poems!