A recent surge of vocal expression has unexpectedly created a community among local poets, and not just those on the Utah Slam Team. They have formed friendships and an understanding, despite their varied backgrounds and beliefs.
They may not agree with each other's writing, but they respect it. They understand that poetry hurts, and to stand up in front of others makes one vulnerable.
"I've seen people become very close friends very quickly through poetry, by things getting talked about in poems," said Brian Frandsen, a local poet who has attended readings for more than a year. "Whether people mean to or not, the act of getting up and reading one's poem in public, the act of even committing one's stuff to paper, is putting a stake through the ideas of safety and security."
But when people abandon those ideas, Frandsen said, they enjoy this life a lot more. By observing his own vulnerability, as well as other's, and by spending time with these poets, Frandsen said he's become a better person and a better poet.
That's where the PUSH philosophy comes in.
It all started in October 2003, on the porch of a home in Sugarhouse, dubbed by the tenants "1746." Ethan William Higbee and Lewis (who goes by his last name only), both local poets and roommates at the time, commented one night about how many talented writers were raising the bar and inspiring others through their readings each week. "(Someone will) write a poem that blows every other poem out of the water, and it's every week, and it's someone else," Higbee said.
This idea that these poets were pushing each other to greater heights became the basis for the PUSH philosophy. At first, Higbee, Lewis and a few others called this idea "Pushers, not Leaders."
"Rather than leading people to poetry, (they were) just pushing them with their own poetry," Higbee said. "Not to stand above, but to push them further and further on in their own writing."
After some discussion, the title was shortened, and PUSH was born. It's a concept that each poet can employ to continue progressing, where they push each other just as much as they push themselves, Higbee said. "Every once in a while there's a group of artists that can work together and have it be beneficial. Most times, artists get hung up on opinions."
Instead of arguing the creative merits or direction of one another's work, they encourage and help foster an environment of progress, Higbee said. "None of us are even near our climax in our writing. All of us have a thousand steps to take."
Zoe Dimitri, a member of the Utah Slam Team, considers PUSH as an effort against running into a three-month lull, which he sees happening with a lot of poets. Many will come into the scene for about three months, and they'll push to a certain level, then they can't take it anymore. When they can't see themselves rising to the next level, they drop off the scene, only to show up again three months later.
"What we're trying to do is make that continuation," Dimitri said, "where it's continually evolving, perhaps not too fast, but just one step at a time."
So far, it's working.
"(PUSH) is about seeing something that possibly can make a difference on the large scale. It's already made a difference in our lives," Lewis said. "We say 'push' a hundred times every day, but its about getting together and doing what's true to ourselves. We don't have to accept each other, but all of us have to have understanding, and that's how any art should be."
"It's been amazing for me to be surrounded by so many other people who are willing to accept," said Schuyler Spears, another member of the Utah Slam Team. "Even without understanding, (my poetry) can be accepted. And it has been, in astronomical amounts, and that's pushed my poetry through the roof. I've never even fathomed some of the things that go down now, from all of us, and it's just ridiculous. It's mind-boggling, every single time we get together. Somebody always — somebody just brings people out of their chairs. Every time."
"Or brings a tear down," Higbee added.
Not only has it worked, but it has snowballed into something more than just a philosophy. Higbee, Lewis and other key players have expanded the idea into possible literary projects and business ventures. A PUSH anthology book, featuring work from eight key PUSH participants, is in the planning stages, which may be ready for publication by January 2005.
Frandsen is preparing to launch PUSH Publications, a publishing house for local poets. Already a handful of poets are working with him to publish their work.
And although readings and the poetry scene have been alive in the Salt Lake Valley for years, many of the poets say that it has only just begun, especially with the PUSH philosophy helping.
"What's going on in Salt Lake right now, with this PUSH group, is unbelievable, and it will be big. It'll be huge. It's gonna make City Lights look like a McDonald's," Lewis said, referring to the San Francisco's City Lights bookstore, which started publishing beat poetry in 1955 and later grew as it served as a meeting place for artists, poets and intellectuals for half a century.
And in a way, the ideals of that beat generation still exist in the roots of Salt Lake City's poetry scene and PUSH. Many of these poets read and are inspired by such beat poets as Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg and William Burroughs, in addition to such other favorites as e.e. cummings, William Shakespeare, Ernest Hemingway and George Orwell.
It's apparent the way they write and express emotions, the way they defy society's expectations and question authority owes something to avant-garde ideas and Bohemian lifestyles. But they believe the way they interact sets them apart from the beatniks of the 1950s.
"PUSH is the greatest thing that has come about since the '40s, '50s and '60s," Lewis said. "I have speculations that there are a few people in Salt Lake right now who are going to be bigger than Whitman, Kerouac or Ginsberg. The feeling is really present, and there's no way it can't happen."
E-mail: ltaylor@desnews.com