PEZESTRIANS
CURIOSITY
We’re told poetry has to be unreachable to be good. Obscure, academic. But poetry is simply the language of being human, of having a heart that feels things and a mind that thinks things. And doesn’t that language belongs to all seven-point-something-billion of us?
IDEA
A friend and I decided to make poetry extracurricular. Not an assignment, a riddle, an IQ test. Just a place you could take your shoes off.
We created a poetry group that met weekly at my apartment, and we called it PEZESTRIANS. Pedestrian poets, with a little extra zest.
Exercising our demons.
The poetry-related taglines practically wrote themselves.
Take me to where you come alive.
After a few months, we were hooked on spreading the poetry goodness. So we handcrafted (and machine-sewed) chapbooks of poems we workshopped as a group, then distributed them in the Little Free Libraries around the city.
Pictured here is our first chapbook, Take Me to Where You Come Alive.
Practice makes… better.
To keep our workshops fresh, we included exercises like erasure poems, imitations of famous poets, and even a group-favorite emoji poem exercise.
Opening up the mic…
Eventually, we started hosting an outdoor open mic at the brewery, Monday Night Garage, which became so popular that they made it a monthly staple.
Monday Night Open Mics are a place for the larger creative community of Atlanta, not just poets. Every event featured poets, comedians, musicians and even, once, someone who competes in pun-rapping competitions (can you say ‘dream job’?!).
A full-on retreat.
unhinged & unashamed,
you arrive as the antidote
to the pernicious persuasions that surround me
and now look at you.
you.are stepping into your own shoes
after hours spent wearing mine
and telling me
I know how your feet blister.
walk with me.
Last summer, we held our first retreat, the highlight of which was crafting a single poem for each group member from lines we’d all dropped into a cup. Here is an excerpt from the poem about our group member, Jayna:
