Sunday night we went to the Green Mill for Emily Rose’s promotion of her new poetry book Mouthy. Her presentation was preceded by the weekly poetry slam.
The Green Mill is over 100 years old and has an edgy history. Al Capone was said to have his special booth there and there are tunnels beneath the bar supposedly connecting to the Aragon Ballroom for easy getaways during raids in Prohibition. Now it is a premier jazz club with that old gritty ambiance watched over by Stella (actually a statue of Ceres, perhaps as old as the World’s Columbian Exposition). Marc Smith supposedly created the very first poetry slam there in 1986 and now the slam itself is pervasive across the world.
Emily’s poetry is poignant and funny, sensual and bold, lonely and loud, terribly honest and absolutely fearless. She leads you into the secret and magical places of and between desire and dissatisfaction, release and control. She performs her words with an enthusiastic panache which hovers over a quiet despair. Her book Mouthy is published by Thought Crime Press. Buy it. Read it.