Poets in Review: Tim Davis and Brenda Coultas

By Jordan Davis


Not the opening reading (that was Tom Raworth and Ann Lauterbach) but the
second, Tim Davis and Brenda Coultas at the shiny hospitable cafe at Here,
145 Avenue of the Americas, great glass windows looking out at the happy
stragglers, looking in at one attentive group. Any fear that the vibe
might get trampled in a not-for-profit zone is quelched by couches and a
staff that not only acquiesces but acts apologetic when ambient
irritations must be removed. Now on the other hand, the food is maybe only
above decent, and the sense of being _at sea_ (unless you count the
bateau-moucheness of the new digs) is just gone. And the beer is too much.

Brenda Coultas is too much. After a fine introduction by Rob Fitterman she
read work from her first (totally great)  collection, _Early Films_, and
she read some new work which takes her early themes of meat, sex, animals,
body parts, depravity and tenderness to a new pleasant intensity. She has
a light touch. It represents Indiana.  (Random comparison to Andy Levy?)
There is something waldmanische (naturally, she danced and wrote at
Naropa) about Coultas's work, but enough names. Tim Davis got up after a
decent break during which host R Fitterman, D Rountree, B Andrews, K
Davies, D Kovac, M Harb, R Smith, J Mac Low, D Gardner, M Highfill, J-A
Wasserman, A Davies, S Rodefer, and many others milled. Rob gave a good
and very friendly introduction. Tim got up, and read poems from his lunch
poem series (resumed after a several-month hiatus), letters from artists
to artists (e.g. Antonin Artaud to Jasper Johns -- "jam a roman candle up
yr ass!" -- or Sally Mann to The Author (TD) -- "play the image card"),
new poems, poems on the subject of a community of poets (which poems were
written directly after readings and then dedicated to those poets namely
Rod Smith, Brian Kim Stefans, Lisa Jarnot), and poems from his second
chapbook, _My Life in Politics, A History of N=A=R=R=A=T=I=V=E Film_. Tim
is transforming his post-Andrews superchunky vocabulary into a device to
generate plausible news, as if Hopkins quit the church and got a gig with
Reuters, or ArtForum. But where Hopkins would stick around the same three
sounds, Tim _plays the changes_, modulating from one cluster of phonemes
to another, another. Too much too.

--(hours pass)--

Party at Tim's! Got there after waking from a splendid nap to Xena Warrior
Princess's remake of Groundhog Day, then a beefalo dinner, angel hair and
artichoke paste. Up the stairs and champagne! and he's moved the futon so
the coats go into the front room, only a little music, mainly the same
crowd from the reading (nice crowd), I had a nice conversation with
my wife and Barbara Henning and then I want to say his name is Shim, he
brought out his musical saw and someone else got their guitar, Tim found
his banjo, there was a harmonica player and Drew Gardner, thwarted in his
search for bongo improvised on a ceramic pasta pot. Lee Ann showed up and
they did a happy birthday number of Amazing Grace.

Jordan Davis