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Moe Clark

Moe Clark’s dynamic poetic style is unique as it thrives off the energy that surrounds and abounds the body, voice, and soul. Picking up sounds from the everyday, she enjoys studying the intricate glue that connects meaning to words. With a background in voice, visual arts, and performance, Moe brings a unique vibe to the stage of spoken word poetry. She’s performed in various festivals and events over the past four years, including the 2005, and 2007 Calgary International Spoken Word Festival, Liberate the Voice Day, and 2006 & 2007 International Women’s Day. She released her first full-length spoken word CD, circle of she at the 2008 Calgary International spoken Word Festival.


Children speaking in tongues
spouting off intricate letters to friends
laughter jubilant and glowing
foreign tastes glow on the tip of a spoon
squeals cast sharp shadows on trees
cement pavement cracked with slang phrases
children muse outside my window
and I feel like a child in the midst of understanding
but still not quite understood.


Dark chocolate bar with red pepper
in my carry home sack from a Friday night jam
little note nestled inside it’s wrapper
folded twice on graph paper
little letter crosses the overlapping page
crisp letters mark the gratitude of one poet to the next
“thank you for sharing your beautiful piece”
and I am humbled by the sweet offering
this stranger has so freely felt.


So many faces both transparent and masked
sitting and bouncing on metro ride
in unified motion of Montreal commute
striped shirt snakes over black woman’s breasts
flowered cap outlines his burnt red face
they wiggle their toes through broken sandals
catching subtle wind as doors swallow more bodies
and I watch my purse quiver in expectation
not wanting to check metro map again for my stop.


Coconut flakes from plastic pop top container
drizzled delicately over chopped fresh fruit
sitting in flowered earthenware bowl
smooth and silky, overlapped with yogurt
and crests of sweet honey
all lining up on the metal teaspoon
waiting to be shoveled into my anticipation
I smile as it enters between lips, settles on tongue
surrendering to the potency of fruit salad.




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