Lately, I’ve been meeting slam poets who have never participated in a poetry slam. Let me be clear. I’m not talking about spoken word artists working outside of the slam movement; these are self-proclaimed slam poets with no interest in participating in poetry slams. They’ve never attended one and have no intention of doing so.
“In the end, all we have are the words we share.”
Twelve years ago in my CEGEP English class, my teacher attempted to teach thirty very apathetic eighteen year-olds about the twentieth century literary currents that lead to Postmodernism by handing out package of poems by various writers: Tristan Tzara, William Carlos Williams, Frank O’Hara, and at the back, a recent poem, “a car wash the size of a peach” by Jonathan Goldstein.