The Mayor of Baltimore and Anthem
At a party in a forgotten American city, a coterie of friends and strangers gather to celebrate a modest electoral victory. Oblique poetry alternates with the syncopated clatter of small talk. A broken-hearted refrain of disappointment underscores, and a tiny aria of self-revelation hangs in the empty space after the guests depart. Then comes ANTHEM, companion piece to THE MAYOR OF BALTIMORE, the strangely empathetic and gentle monologue of a transient manufacturer of erotic blindfolds. Like a bird’s nest built from bottle caps and scrap plastic, Kristen Kosmas’s writing invents its poetry from the blunt, the found, the discarded, creating a plane of ordinary life that’s tilted, almost singing.
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