Eleanor Polak Photos
Robinson and unicorn.
Brian Robinson, organizer of Open Mic Surgery, the poetry open mic running for almost a year at Never Ending Books, walked into the State Street spot carrying a giant unicorn-shaped piñata. “You don’t leave a dog in the car.… I’m not going to leave a unicorn in the car,” he explained. “It could get hot.”
The appearance of the unicorn was welcomed with applause from the poets gathered in the 810 State St. bookstore Tuesday night. Leaving the piñata perched on a stool next to the piano, Robinson invited the group to allow the presence of a mythical being to inspire their recitations. They could even, he suggested, freestyle some unicorn-themed poetry.
The unicorn’s presence lent a playful, celebratory air to an event that has already, in its run of nearly a year, built up a loyal community. Robinson described Open Mic Surgery as a “pentecostal open mic,” meaning that there is no list or formal order of participants. Anyone who shows up is invited and encouraged to share, either their own work or someone else’s. Readings are met with applause, along with appropriate bouts of laughter or thoughtful silences. Most importantly, they are met with nonjudgmental and unwavering support.
Robinson opened the evening by stepping up to the mic with a story. In between readers, he also offered anecdotes about his own life or the people he had met during various open mics throughout the years. His openness created a room full of friendly, smiling faces, eager to share their own personalities and tales along with their work. Robinson’s own opening poem, “Some Restrictions Apply,” outlined the limitations of poetry as well as its potential to elicit emotions and open lines of communication.
“Poems love you, and it’s all your fault, because you’re beautiful,” he read. The beauty of poems lay in their ability to foster connections between people, to make every person feel seen and heard. That was the power of an open mic, as Robinson explained it: it created a space where anyone could come to enjoy culture and company.
Jeff Smith.
The informal and nonjudgmental atmosphere is the reason that Jeff Smith has been coming to Open Mic Surgery since the beginning. He read two poems on Tuesday, “Besides Me” and “Memorial Day + 1,” and appreciated that Robinson encouraged participants to introduce themselves with an anecdote, rather than jumping straight in.
“For me, it’s easier to read a poem if I can break the ice first,” he said. There was certainly no ice left unshattered when he presented his rhyming, close-knit couplets: “So, I guess I know it / I’m a sort of existential poet. / I always write about what I think on life / because I think I’m always in some type of strife.” Smith returned to poetry after a break of 30 to 40 years, and it offers him an opportunity to share his thoughts on life with other people. The “comfortable atmosphere” of Open Mic Surgery encourages it.
Karen Ponzio.
Throughout the readings, the unicorn was regularly brought up as a source of amusement and inspiration. “It changes the context of whatever you might be saying, that there’s a unicorn,” Robinson pointed out.
Many of the participants referenced the piñata in their introductions, admiring it or suggesting possible names. Karen Ponzio, reporter for the Independent and long-time regular at Open Mic Surgery, was persuaded to freestyle a poem addressed to the unicorn, which was met with cheers.
“I was told that you were supposed to be full of candy and you’re not, and guess what? Sometimes I feel really empty too … but are we really empty, or are we just waiting to be filled? Are we filled with potential? Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe all of us are a unicorn piñata, waiting to be filled.”
She went on to read a Hanif Abdurraqib poem, “Glamor on the West Streets / Silver Over Everything,” written during the poet’s stay in New Haven. She also presented her own untitled poem.
Ponzio said Open Mic Surgery is an environment where her enthusiasm for poetry is welcomed and returned tenfold. She described days in which she felt down, and had to force herself to approach the microphone, only to have her effort instantly rewarded.
“I knew if I could read the poem and be surrounded by everyone I would feel better,” she said, “It’s nice to have that community.” And also, sometimes, a unicorn.
