RIP Ry Frazier

The Bridgewater Poetry Slam, which later evolved into Poetrribe, met in a number of places in Brockton and Bridgewater, Massachusetts. The spoken word venue changed locations so much, it earned them the nickname "Pomads."

Poetribe was beautifully all-inclusive, mixing the quieter verse of David R. Surette and Victoria Bosch Murray, the more extroverted, playful poetry of Len Germinara, the stern voice of Frank Miller, and the booming voices of the more youthful attendees.

It was the perfect setting for me to hear young Ry Frazier for the first time.

Ry was pure energy, but you couldn't call it raw or unfocused. Ry performed as a slam poet would, but he was far from histrionic. His message wasn't made clear from the start. You had to catch hold of a word or phrase and hold on for dear life until the trip's end.

Ry was, to me, a whole new animal. Not easily categorized, if at all. I wanted to know more.

The side affects of not owning a car and constantly having your life change on a dime include not always being able to pursue your favorite open mic poets. I didn't see Ry years, not until Erin Feeney attempted to restart Poetribe in 2009. Fittingly, Ry was one of the poets asked to feature. The photo above is from this lovely reunion. The fact that I took no video is a regret and a mystery, given that I tried started to film every poet I could when I scored a digital camera in 2008. I wish I knew what happened.

We established contact again. Eventually, I invited him to submit to Stone Soup's Fresh Broth anthology. He was the best contributor to a Stone Soup project who never featured or even participated in the open mic during my tenure. Given my tendency to pursue hard-to-get poets, that list is longer than you think.

Ry's poem in Fresh Broth is titled, "First Poem Written Directly to My Mother, Right Before Mother’s Day." The beginning lines sum up everything I remember and liked about his work.

"Don't set out to become a cosmic
lesion upon your own damned life. Be more than you could have possibly expected."

Without you, I never would have known this.

I wish I could hear his voice reciting these lines more clearly. 

Len let us know on Tuesday that Ry Frazier had passed away from a heart attack. I dug up the Fresh Broth poem above and some other pieces I never got around to using. I'm gong to try and get permission to publish them somewhere. I'm also going to contribute to his funeral expenses. Mostly, I'm going to miss him and pay attention for more stories by those lucky enough to have known him better.