Poets. Poetry insiders. Poetry buffs. You don’t always notice them, but they are out there, crossing the street, buying coffee, traveling incognito.

They resist and occupy. This week continues to be a nail-biter for the radical librarians in Zuccotti Park, as the Occupy Wall Street reckons with Mayor Bloomberg and the NYPD. But the movement’s poetry arm celebrated a major success as it released its much-anticipated anthology.

They don’t always keep it real. Witness the sexual infidelities of William Carlos Williams.

They break it down like an organic compound. We speak poet/chemist Mala Radhakrishna, natch.

They go downtown. And, at least in Public Access Poetry’s case, they collect respect plus a check.

They’ve got techniques dripping out their butt cheeks (quoth Biggie Smalls) Ask Dorothea Lasky, or read her thoughts on her kinship with the late Christopher Wallace, a/k/a The Notorious B.I.G, a/k/a The Black Frank Wright, a/k/a Biggie. It’ll make your mouthpiece obese like Della Reese.

They fix leaky pipes. And if they find themselves doing a bid, they write blunt, humorous verse about the minor points of Mafia life.

They break horses. And, austerity be danged, they’re meeting again in Nevada to rep Cowboy Poetry.

They write like white guys. And sometimes they write thinkpieces as engaging as this one, from Jaswinder Bolina.

They’ve got jokes. Comedian Denis Leary is a decent poet, and late-night giggler/impressionist Jimmy Fallon clearly digs The Doors.

They produce. Like cult-rocker and well-documented poetry lover Brian Eno.

They read, they write, they relocate, they repeat. But it looks like the travels of our friends at the Read/Write Library (f/k/a Chicago Underground Library) are over for now - it recently warmed its new digs in Humboldt Park, and the NYT stopped in for cheese cubes.

They’re awesome dipped in awesomesauce. That’s Brian Spears describing T.R. Hummer. And we could say the same of you. Enjoy your Thanksgiving as you will.

Originally Published: November 18th, 2011