A Collection of Poems and Stories
By Su Polo
is available at St. Marks Books
|Su Polo is a multitalented artist. A native New Yorker, her writing conveys unusual insights and surprises found in life's everyday events and encounters.
She is a singer/songwriter, photographer, painter and sculptor, computer graphic artist and designed this website.
|or by contacting email@example.com
or send $7.00 ($5 + $2 pstg & pkg) per copy to :
P.O. Box 1434,
Madison Square Station,
Thank you for your support!
|Read a review of this book in the
frigatezine.com online magazine http://www.frigatezine.com/review/poetry/rpy03bon.html#turning
|Come to Saturn Series Poetry Reading — celebrating our 14th year!
Every Monday Nite at 7:00pm to 9:30pm, Sign-up at 7.
Open Mic plus 1 feature. $3.00 Donation $8 drink Min.
@Nightingale 213 East 13th Street, at 2nd Avenue.
Take #6,N,R to Union Sq. Then a short walk East. or L to 1st ave, walk West
|Visit this site
for the current events in the NYC poetry world.
|Back to main page . . .|
|Sour Cherries ©1998 Su Polo
There is a wonderful sense of fear growing in me. Fear of the unknown, fear of finding out, fear of finding love. I ate some sour cherries yesterday. The fear of the first tart taste biting my tongue was overruled by the satisfaction of the sweet cherry flavor filling my mouth and causing a smile and thoughts of wanting more. Have another - there's more. Sour cherries - try one. Doesn't everybody try one.
YOU BRING THE SUN
|Safety Pin ©1998 Su Polo (written at Broome St. Bar)
I found a pin in the street thank you. Yes, I picked it up. A safety pin. Safety; now there's a word that has many meanings. Especially recently. Safety is at issue. Yet, sometimes, what you don't want is safety. Sometimes you just need to take your chances; to go out on a limb; leap of faith; go where no one has gone before. Yet, not to be confused with a pin tossed in a game of hopscotch.
This quiet pin rests on the table before me, silver steel with its coiled, spring hinged, needle tipped shaft, tense and temporarily sheathed in its machined holster head; a tiny but artful device with about as many uses as its name has meanings. Laying on the brown wood bar table. The shiny perfection perched with all its possibilities on the muddy patinaed surface. Scratched and bruised with years of use by passing plates and forks and knives. Carved into with some relative to sharpness, to shape a rough heart around the name JOEY. Some lover's whisper, carved to keep safe.