Janet Kuypers performed this poem for the Chicago show "The Soul of Soles: A Foot Fantasia". This is a video of the first night performance on October 16, 2007.
Janet Kuypers performed the two poems "The Carpet Factory, The Shoes" and "Yeah" (with music from the HA!Man of South Africa, A.K.A. Francois LeRoux on the cello along with prerecorded music — learn about the HA!Man at http://www.hamanworld.com/, and Peter Bartels with the trumpet) at a multi-arts musical poetry performance called "The Soul of Soles: A Foot Fantasia". The events took place at the Peter Jones Gallery (1806 W. Cuyler, 2nd Floor, Chicago, IL 60645) at 8:00 p.m. on Tuesday October 16th and Wednesday October 17th.
Featuring the musical genius of Francois LeRoux and Peter C. Bartels with video shot by Francois LeRoux (aka the Ha!Man of South Africa) and Cathleen Schandelmeier, this event featureed the amazing artistry of Donna Pecore, Tekki Lomnicki, Janet Kuypers, and Ed Roberson.
You can also check out a chapbook of material from all of the performers, or a Janet Kuypers chapbook of show poetry (plus additional dance-related writings) collected for this show.
For more information on this writing and other writings from Janet Kuypers, go to http://www.janetkuypers.com for more information and details.
Below are the poems that were performed in this show (and one of them is in this video):
the carpet factory,
the shoes
i heard a story today
about a little boy
one of many who was enslaved
by his country
in child labor
in this case
he was working
for a carpet factory
he managed to escape
he told his story
to the world
he was a hero at ten
put the people from the factory
held a grudge
and today i heard
that the little boy
was shot and killed
on the street
he was twelve
and people complains to me
when i buy shoes
that are made in china
now i have to think
did somebody
have to die for these
will somebody have to die
for these
—
Yeah
Yeah. He can really move.
See him on a dance floor.
He swings hips like no other
white boy. Yeah.
But he refused to slow dance.
He was cool. Just ask him.
But he couldn't slow down.
Yeah. He knew how to dance.
He barely moved. But he moved.
And he looked so damn sexy.
He knew what to do.
But he smoked. And hated
the world. Yeah. And
no one could ever get close to him.
Yeah. He could hold his own
when the lights flashed and
the beat quickened.
But he didn't know when to stop.
Enough is enough, I said. Yeah.
But he didn't know when the
dance was over. And he crashed.
Yeah. On a Saturday night
he would hit the dance scene.
he was the best looking thing
on the floor.
His moves were almost awkward.
Do the California Twist.
Yeah. But he couldn't accept
the idea of a new step.
Yeah. He wasn't the best dancer.
He swayed back and forth.
And he snapped his fingers.
He danced like a child. Yeah.
But he had fun. No worries.
He danced in a group -
no partner, but many friends.
Yeah. He liked to party.
Mister cool. He'd dance to be
shocking. Yeah. Caught your eye.
Hunk-of-burning love.
Always laughing. Always joking.
And just when you got used to him,
he'd dance with someone else.
Yeah. He had a bad knee. He
limped. Old war wound, I suppose.
But he liked to move. Yeah.
As much as he liked to get wasted.
Or steal the show. Or flirt.
And it was a party mask he had
to wear. Too heavy.
Yeah. He was a klutz.
Didn't like to dance. But he
loved music. And when he liked
a song, he never wanted it to end.
Yeah. And he never wanted to hear
a new song. But the songs he loved
wouldn't play for him anymore.
Songs don't last forever.
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