• U·to·pi·a: any visionary system of political or social perfection.

• ni·hil·ism: total and absolute destructiveness, esp. toward the world at large and including oneself [...].

Gotcha. Considering we were to be in the company of active members of a Utopian Nihilist movement, I figured it best to come armed with sufficient vocabulary. In celebration of the release of poet Milo Martin’s book, “Poems for the Utopian Nihilist”, an eclectic group of writers representing a vast expanse of the literary world took to the floor of Skylight Books, bringing equal parts light and darkness to all in attendance.

Martin opened up the evening with “Velocity” - the first poem in his collection - showcasing talent in molding strange beauty from figurative gutter debris, and therefore laying a suitable foundation for the readings to follow. Unfortunately, Chris Tannahill was unable to show, so at his suggestion Martin read his “Zero Gravity Fire, or the Slaughterhouse Waltz”, referred to as “the finest death poem of the 21st century”. Short story writer Mary Otis read a story from the opening pages of “Yes Yes Cherries” entitled “Unstruck”, a childhood interpretation of the adult world in which regret is referred to as “the useless emotion”, and where “‘fix me’ always led to marriage”.

Following throughout were Jerry the Priest (performance poet and author of “Full Metal Cough Drop”) , Hannah Wehr (the Petulant Poetess), Brad Listi (author of “Attention. Deficit. Disorder.”), and Rich Ferguson (spoken word artist). Their respective pieces gave insight on blessings beyond denomination, the effectiveness in identifying self-truths, the endearing flaws of one’s blood-family, and the quality of life in all things raw and unaltered. Standalone accordionist Mrs. Hobbs lent her music to the line-up, most especially to Martin during one of his pieces towards the night’s close, a marriage of melodious phrase and melancholy recitation.

It wouldn’t have been possible to have thought of this as anything but an adult story time, of hardened world realities and of human pleasures living under the skin. One could possibly say that a camaraderie was forged, and that what could have easily been considered vulnerable in its exposure was just as emotionally charging. A subtle attack of the nihilist, indeed.

Photo by thepriady_2006

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