hey New York...

The Bowery Poetry Club presents a rare East Coast reading by Larry Kearney.

Saturday, January 12th, at three pm.


Five—Robert Creeley: "This is a primal geography wherein all the terms of the so-called world gain articulation and a place. And his propositions will haunt you, or bless you, forever."

Stephanie Young: "All the mysteries are here—chiropractic effects on the air, cards falling in and out of place, a fire poking holes in itself to burn hotter. Larry Kearney's poems say there's nothing that can't come in here if it's required. Then the wind and a ball and the sound of a light moving through the room."

Kevin Killian: "His ear is uncanny, tuned with perfect fidelity to culture high and low, to all the temptations of language and heaven. His curiosity about form and metric have turned his work into a palace of music. Some people say, 'We don't have to a poet to match William Carlos Williams,' but I don't break a sweat, as long as Larry Kearney's alive and writing.”

David Meltzer: “Kearney is one of those unsung cats who has been producing intelligent thoughtful snarly deeply musical poetry, deeply felt wryly wrought astute poetry of the first rank, for decades for a select few—you're in for a rare treat.”