The Open Mic was scheduled for Wednesday night, off-beat from the typical Thursday Poetry Nights at the Paper Moon as advertised on social media. Joshua Gruft beamed with a smile as I entered the small bookstore off 4th Street in Downtown Troy on a cool November evening. He broke briefly from light banter with Eric Vale from Hellyeah Lit: the publisher of the newly released third issue of Paper Moon Magazine poetry collection.
“Thanksgiving Weekend is tricky,” Joshua Gruft, owner of the bookstore said as I idled by while my phone charged, taking notes and preparing interview questions, “typically we hold our events on Thursdays, but with the upcoming holidays, we had to move the date back to Wednesday,” I asked Eric, jocularly, if the name of the press had any connection with the Metal Band. He laughed,
“Unfortunately, the Press has nothing to do with Chad Gray or Tom Maxwell. We came up with the name because I say, ‘hell yeah,’ all the time—too often, some people complain—it’s a marked aspect of my personality that everyone seems to remember. Therefore, I named the press, Hellyeah Lit.” Window shoppers and several newly published poets, arriving early, trickled through the door at the evening hour. The clamoring of their comradery issued in, echoing through the small, narrow hallway. Wherever there’s an open mic at a café, bar, or in this case, a small indie bookstore, the poets all stick together in a tightly meshed microculture, preserving the little flecks of creativity and inspiration we have left.
Mandi Stevens, a writer who, having recovered from Gaming Journalism, entered with an aura of radiant positivity. “The poem I published for the Paper book isn’t the most representative of my work,” fae said, ““Microwaved Leftovers,” if you can’t tell by the title alone, was written in the spirit of not making sense. If I were to settle on a theme, I may have to go with the notion of being ‘cringe’ or ‘cringeworthy,’ which isn’t a real thing.”
“…our perception of how others perceive us doesn’t really matter
because you’ll always be someone’s yuck
and someone’s yum
and isn’t it better to be tasty?”
While whimsical at the surface, those elements of Mandi’s work focusing on perception itself grants us a window into the deeper themes of faer other works. “Most of my work delves into topics regarding gender, trans politics, and race politics. I was in a dark place for a very long time before I turned to poetry as a form of therapy. After having survived a suicide attempt some years back, I found myself turning to a positive form of expression to overcome the trauma and ideation.” Mandi is currently working on an untitled project collection in the works and foresees public release some time in the future without a specific date in mind.
Kinsey Rush, a follower of the store on Instagram, started writing poems as a freshman at SUNY Albany with a declared major in Urban Planning. As a senior, she mustered the courage to submit her work, a portrait poem titled, “Trinity United Methodist Church,” for publication.
“Most poems arrive to me spontaneously with no interconnecting theme between them,” she said, “however, most of them turn out to be quite political charged in one way or another. Whether they muse on women’s rights, a widespread disparity in social awareness, or a complete jumbling of reality amidst discerning fact from fiction, I find myself writing on topics of social injustice often—moreso now I think than in the past.”
“Bags surround him holding a myriad of trash
the prophet on his crucifix
a smile held firmly on his dirt-streaked face,”
Rush was inspired by a member of the homeless community outside the church lending its name to the poem’s title. “I was walking through downtown one afternoon and I saw him outside the Trinity. I wanted to convey the notion that the church as an institution fails to deliver its promises to the community in so many aspects of the daily lived experience. Catching this man out the corner of my eye, carrying recyclables, and in a poor, unhealthy condition stuck in my mind as the most immediate example I noticed.”
The small vintage shop gradually became jam-packed with audience members squeezing in as the hour drew closer to sign-up. A line extended from Paper Moon’s entrance with open-mic goers out to the sidewalk. There was a dynamic energy pulsing through the shop. What Joshua Gruft and Eric Vale managed to draw into that small, living room-sized venue was a diverse array of poetesses, poets, and artists from every background and subculture in the Upstate New York tri-city area. I’d only encountered such an active energy on the West Coast, at the 16th and Mission Subway stop readings in San Fransisco.
“Have you heard about
historic women
cutting their hair short
and tucking their blouses
and flannel shirts
into over-sized work jeans
doing jobs
‘no lady should be doing?’”
Em/met’s poem “All This *Gender*,” a protest poem, eschews the micro-aggressive jabs at transnormative culture, gender neutrality, and trans-individuals. He captivated their audience with divine gender expression, stepping up to the mic to read in the same manner they left it: with grace.
For anyone interested in the Paper Moon and the bookstore’s hosted events, all events are posted through the bookstore’s Instagram account: @paper_moon_troy. For more information about Hellyeah Lit., the publication’s featured readings and events, follow @hellyeahliterature on Instagram.
