How IC’s SPIT THAT! changed my entire perception of poetry
They host live spoken word poetry readings
I was sitting scholarly at a table in Lot 10 trying to scribble down notes and quotes as poets took the stage and left. It was all happening too fast, and I realized that by trying to be the stenographer of an event like this I was missing more than I was capturing. I decided to put down my pen and open my ears instead. I laid down a recorder on the table and let the words wash over me.
Spit That! is the only spoken word poetry club at Ithaca College
What I experienced was unexpectedly overwhelming. Alice was the first poet I heard after I dropped my pen and opened my ears (and eventually my heart). She started a poem, saying “Dear Ruby Bridges, I often find myself trapped in your story” and I felt this shockwave of unexplainable sorrow reverberate through my soul. These words were so profound I felt a strange sense of guilt for even hearing them. The only analogy I can draw from is the moment when in Judaism Moses catches a glimpse of the image of God and has to look away.
Connor took the stage and talked about his coming of age experiences at college and discovering his true sexuality. Casey spoke about heartbreak and the illusion of time, while also evoking images of transcendence. Erik managed to articulate seemingly incommunicable ideas with almost prophetic clarity. Nuria mixed song and prose with the poise and beauty of a goddess. In her poem about love she quickly swept through a liturgy of metaphors and images that nearly brought tears to my long dried up eyes, and as I began to reflect on my own feelings of isolation she vocalized it aloud, stating “loneliness that pushes the heart out of beings.”
This is when I recognized the true potential, and the true power of not only poetry but also “Spit That!” as a whole.
Some of the current members of Spit That!, a poetry club at Ithaca College.
When white light hits a prism all of the colors it contains separate and emerge from the other side. Somewhere in the middle of the readings I realized that each poet has their own color, their own voice. Each poet conveyed his or her personal absolute Truth.
Despite the diversity of voice or topic, their sentiments of sorrow or empowerment or betrayal or love or existential confusion all shine through the prism of “Spit That!” and collectively form an immaculate white light of the entire human experience. This was the beauty that gave me chills then and gives me chills now as I reflect upon the experience.