“Because I could not stop for death,” read one sign for the New York Poetry Festival chalked into the pavement on Governor’s Island on Saturday, “I KEPT WALKING.”
If you kept walking, you’d run into the festival, sponsored by the Poetry Society of New York, as it stretched across the lawn at Colonels’ Row, fenced with white banners and food trucks. In front of three small stages bearing the names, “Chumley’s,” “The Algonquin” and “The White Horse,” around 20 attendees sat cross-legged or mermaid-style on blankets.
Those who were not inclined to pay the $5 entrance fee leaned against the fence as a bizarre medley of voices echoed through the space, either floating into ears of passersby or slammed their senses with the extra oomph of the amps.
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