Sunday Sermon with Bernadette Mayer Philip Good and Marie Warsh By Greta Jane Pedersen
Artfully scattered rose petals lead the way from the stoop, up the winding stairs and into the sunlit performance space on an idyllic May afternoon in the Page Poetry Parlor at 435 W 22nd st. An elegant parlor with sliding doors and wood floors, a chandelier hangs from the middle of 17 foot high ceiling. The historic room buzzes with poets and cheese, wine and fruit, all awaiting the sermon of Bernadette Mayer, Philip Good and Marie Warsh.
Bernadette Mayer, an avant-garde writer associated with the New York School of poets is known for her innovative use of language and experimentation with form. She walks between prose, poetry and stream of consciousness, and is often compared to Gertrude Stein and Dadaist writers. Mayer has produced several collections of poetry since 1982, Hibernation Collaboration is her latest offering in collaboration with her daughter, Marie Warsh and poet Philip Good published by Mademoiselle de la Staples Press.
The three poets take their seats in the center of the room and begin to tell their tale. Together they’ve written Hibernation Collaboration, a poetic conversation that takes place between the start of Hurricane Sandy and the Spring Equinox of 2013. The overall feeling of the work is jovial and hopeful. It’s clear that this collaboration gave the writers an imaginary oasis to build and find refuge in through their harrowing winter; a place where they could meet, eat oysters and make recipes for epiphanies in the fairgrounds. This work reflects the creative sparks that fly when we are faced with fear and unknowing.
Each page is composed of three stanzas and the three poets took turns reading their individual parts, enhancing the playful conversational feeling of the work. The book is hand stapled and adorned with watercolor cover and centerfold by Sophia Warsh, another daughter of Bernadette Mayer. The artwork is in keeping with the mood of the book and depicts rainbows, skunk cabbage and many things unknown.
- “It was 65 degrees in November & to the sound of gunshots
- from a lunatic hunter practicing for the season
- I sat in the poetry state forest in a sea of crackling
- brown leaves watching the Gubofi’s ex-girlfriend walking
- her scrappy yapping little white dog on a leash at old Joe’s
- The cold has returned so I give Rosemary a pine cone
- I am exhausted and we haven’t reached the solstice
- Bernadette tells me to stay inside
- So I sleep in the sunlight on the yellow couch
- And I make red sauce with meat
- Does one always do as Bernadette says?
- Taking her direction and being compliant?
- That’s as crazy as poets performing in a cheese shop
- But that’s exactly what they did on a sunny day
- A day that was slightly above staying indoors weather”
When they reached the line, “Does one always do what Bernadette says?” the whole room laughed and nodded, “yes, of course we do”. A room of devotees on a gorgeous afternoon basking in the warmth radiating from this fountain of creativity. A room so united in tone that the spontaneous chorus of Happy Birthday sung for Bernadette Mayer sounded rehearsed. At the end of the song she announced she would turn 69 this year, “I’ll be as old as a male poet” she said. We all liked the sound of that.