
In January, my girlfriend Donna handed me a book by a guy called Patrick Rosal. “You should read this guy,” she said. “He’s really good.” So I read this guy, and she was right – he’s really good. He’s from New Jersey, which immediately endeared him to me, and his poetry borders on the performance side, with emphasis on sound and rhythm – but his language is so concrete and tangible that the poems work on the page as well as in that sacred space between the poet’s mouth and the audience’s ears. I have been living with his poems since January, carrying their language with me for months now.
So I was thrilled to discover that he was reading at the Barron Arts Center in Woodbridge, NJ. Being a South Jersey girl who is more comfortable in Philly than in North Jersey, I approached the idea of the reading with some trepidation. Driving up the turnpike past exit 9 is something I haven’t done in a long time – but for Patrick Rosal, I decided, it was worth it. And I was not disappointed. (Continued)