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December 21st, 2009
10:51 am - Arizona and the Big Boat Ride Home
When we last spoke, I had just finished performing at Black Pearl Tempe & Phoenix while being wowed by a phenomenal 13 yr musician Alex Aiono. On Saturday, Edward, the beautiful Tamika (part of the Black Pearl Arizona team) and I ventured to Tuscon for the Ocotillo Slam. Great night, great poetry. Doc Luben was a great host and super entertaining throughout the night. I got my first extended look at Lindsey Miller who won the slam and was quite impressed. I now feel sorry that I was out of town when they came thru Columbus together. I'm sure it was a hell of a show. As for me, I think I did my best feature of the tour. I got to do 3 new poems that I wrote after the tour started two weeks ago and they felt right. Just right. Again, a great night.
Back in Phoenix on Sunday night for the Home Base Poetry night. For those familiar with Black Pearl when it was in Columbus (at the Brownstone), it was like that, on steroids. About 250 people, 90% black, filling up a hotel ballroom for nothing more than poetry. Very interesting evening. I did a 3 poem set and got a standing 'O', which felt like a good way to end the tour.
As for personal goals that I set out at the beginning of the tour, I did marginally well: Wrote 5 poems, which all feel like keepers.
I didn't finish the essays, but I did write the outlines and framing for two of them.
Did not eat any meat or dairy. And you know what, I feel pretty ok.
Did not get any running done, though I did work out...some. The weather really fucked with my ambition of running.
As an unforeseen accomplishment, I sold out of all my books, which I'm pretty proud of since I got 50 of them shipped to me on Monday while I was still in the Bay.
Overall, I had an amazing, amazing time and loved every locale I hit. I'll write a more decompressed wrap up of the trip when I get the chance. Right now, I'm just focused on getting home to my wife.
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December 19th, 2009
01:22 pm - Travelling Mercies: 2
f a mini tour is a pregnancy (which its not, don't kill me women, I just need a measurable time parallel), then my tryst through the Bay Area would've been the 2nd Trimester. Some kind of amazing, I'll tell you. I did almost as much spectating as I did featuring, but I had a great time. Features, I got to see: Buddy Wakefield in Oakland, Ainsley Burrows at the City Slam (for which I spotlit) and Chas Jackson at the Golden State Slam, all of which impressed, A LOT. In between, I also featured at San Jose for the wonderful Kat Dietrich and concluded my time there by featuring at Berkeley.
Yo...This shit was awesome.
So many of the Bay's finest we're in the house that night including a beat-boxing 9 year old that rocked the house before my teaser. As good as he was, he would not be the most impressive youngin I would see on this tour (in the business, we call that foreshadowing). The Berkeley Slam was hosted by Jamie DeWolf and my God, I never wanted to see a Tourettes show so badly. He was unreal, which you can imagine I'm sure. Funny, rude, engaging, just an unflinching energy that was awesome to see. My set went over extremely well. Even debuted a new piece about infidelity I was slightly nervous about. I definitely have to shout out the people I hung with most of the week: Ekabhumi, Kristina Robertson (who I saw every single show), Tatyana Brown, Jaime Britton & Stephen Meads (who probably did my favorite poem/performance of this tour so far). Thank you all for making me feel at home 2,000 plus miles away.
By Thursday, I was on my way to Arizona to do a few shoes and hang with my man, 50 Grand Ed Mabrey. Ed, did this up right, set up shows for me, treated me like a brother coming into town and we've had a great time thus far. On Thursday night, I got to be part of a benefit concert that included quite a few bands. Including my new favorite artists. I will now direct you to the Alex Aiono section of the blog.
Meet Alex Aiono
He's 13 years old. He's Samoan. He plays the ukulele. He's a good looking kid. He's all kinds of awesome.
Its not just the fact that he's an immensely talented pre-teenager, that sounds like a grown damn man and is charismatic as hell. He's super humble about it all. Which means he's just that good of a kid (shout out to his parents on that one) or he has no idea of the kind of attention/praise/love/female attention/accolades that will get thrown at him in the next 3-6 years. He's also got a great family as evidenced below
And for the John Legend fans, you'll appreciate this:
Ok, I'm done now.
So its Saturday and I'm headed to Tuscon tonight to do the Ocotillo Slam. Lindsey actually, extended their season and created this show since I was going to be in town...no pressure there. I guess I better not suck tonight. But I'm really looking forward to it. Sunday, I've doing an appearance at one more Open Mic, then headed home on Monday morning. Can't wait to see my wife. And I keep hearing about all this snow Bullshit happening back east. If my flights get fucked with even a little bit, its gonna be me, Mother Nature and a hate crime, trust me on that.
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December 11th, 2009
01:38 pm - Left Coast Travel: 1
Everything started with a marathon travel day. Truly some Planes, Trains & Automobiles shit, but I finally made my way to Vancouver on Sunday night. Had a bit of a miscue with my lodging situation, but it turned out well as Sean McGarragle took good care of me. The show was Monday night and pretty magic. Its uncanny how you accumulate friends and acquaintances over the years with no bearing of where they're geographically located, but you're reminded of such when they keep showing up at the venue. Big crowd, great energy. The audience and its response was very much a living entity and it was a joy sharing poems with them. Got some quality time with Ms. Spelt as we talked about EVERYTHING (which many people do with Ms. Spelt). His viewpoints on mythology in the classical and modern sense fascinated me and really framed a great conversation. The best moment of the night for me may have been when he covered Gabrielle's latest poem before the slam. Magical stuff.
Tuesday night, I made my way down to Seattle. Look, Daemond is one of those cats that you mention his name to anybody in the know and they light up with the immediate 'good guy' response. You get confirmation of such after about 3 1/2 minutes with the guy. He also trumps any feelings I have of missing Leah after a few days since Inti has been out of the country for weeks.
Let me pause here to say that its cold out west. Muthafuckin cold man. Not what one pictures when they travel that far west. It might have gotten cold back in Columbus during the time I've been away, but 40 degrees in San Fran wasn't part of the plan. You hear that Mother Nature?! I got some four and five letter words for you when I see you. I heard your kids ain't shit either.
Anyways.
The Seattle show was cool. Unfortunately, they had some venue issues a few days before my feature. This led to Daemond and crew having to find another venue at the drop of a dime just to field the show. Which they did. But of course, changing a venue on short notice will always lead to a dip in attendance and this was no exception. I did miss some of the usual stalwarts of the Seattle Poetry Slam not being there, but the crowd was super attentive and involved so I enjoyed it a ton. Oh and Mike McGee was there. And he was awesome. Of course he was.
Due to another venue/attendance situation, the Everrett, WA gig didn't work out, so Daemond and I both flew out of Seattle on Thursday morning (him to go see Gabrielle, me to The Bay). It turned out great because I got to Oakland in tact, got some rest and hit the town in time again to catch the Oakland Poetry Slam. Lots of great peeps in the house, lots of good poems thrown around capped off with Buddy's feature which was pretty damn special. I imagine he's gotta be road weary as hell, but he still brought his trademark energy last night and it was nice to see.
Next Gig: Sunday Co-Feature with Ainsley Burrows at The City Slam in San Francisco.
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December 7th, 2009
03:39 pm - Poem (Live from Vancouver)
So I'm one day away and two poems done. The first one I wrote yesterday is just not ready. The poem is finished, already thru one edit, but it took me so long to write it (the thought process anyway), that I want to hold on to it for a little while longer. In the mean time, here's another one.
San Diego circa 1989
After Roger Bonair-Agard’s Boundary
Depending upon your sensitivity
A night baseball game is a sunless heaven
You wait weeks for
The assembly line of cut off t-shirts
And backward over-sized logoed ball caps
Spread from the front gate like an octopus
You are a willing tentacle
Clutching your ticket like it
Is the last breath you will take
And this life has many more scars planned for you
Depending upon your luck
Your father can remember your birthday
Or that you bust your ass doing summer chores
Because you saw a black Franklin Outfielder’s Glove
That you swear you would never make another Error with
And that same leather has a foul ball
With its stitching written all over it
If you are born lucky
You live in Chicago or Detroit
Where you team doesn’t completely suck
And you are serenaded by Caray or Harwell
On your way to battlefield
But if you were as privileged as me
You can die knowing that the front seat
Of a Chevy Astro Van is the holiest respite
For a 10 year old slider that hasn’t learned his break yet
You can taste the San Diego night
And confirm its flavor was the same at sunrise
Your father has a grin that salutes like a foul pole
Because he knows
You cannot teach the gospel of baseball
Without having seen its divinities first
You want to ask him every question
Your curiosity peaks in on
As if he did not answer these same questions
When you watched the game live at home two nights before
But dreaming of fishes and swimming with them
Is a concept even naïve leadoff hitters like yourself
Can understand
When you make it to your seat
All your questions are hijacked by how green the grass is
Under the stadium lights
It looks sharp
And you are surprised that it does not draw blood
From the ankles of this huge men
Of pinstriped pants
Then, when you think you’ve got this figured out
When you can determine if the ball will go careening
Off of the wire cave behind the batter
Or escaping into the night by how he swings the bat
You watch Tony Gwynn go from first
To third base on a ground ball
Back when Tony and your father were still slim and agile
When you already knew what Tony was before the rest of the world did
That he was the best pure hitter of this generation
And you can’t get over the fluidity and quickness
At which he dismisses second base altogether
As if he never intended to be there
A goodwill gesture
A show of faith
And the lesson is taught
That you will never settle for a foothold
When you see the one ahead of it
Is open
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December 1st, 2009
November 20th, 2009
04:02 pm - So when the young delinquent rolls up on us at McDonalds...
...he asks Dasha for a dollar. Dasha's response?
Dasha: Um why aren't you at school?
Misguided Youth: I got suspended?
D: Why?
MY: Some dude tried to punk me
D: So what are you doing here?
MY: My mom isn't home and I got no food at home so I'm asking for money
D: If you're hungry, then I'll buy you something ok?
MY: Not from here, maybe from Checkers (another food chain) or I'll take a dollar for the gas station
D: So you're going to be choosy huh?
A lot more dialog ensued, but Dasha ended up buying him a value meal. When she went to give it to him, he didn't want to take the Coke with a dismissive, "Naw, I'm good." Of course, Dasha made him take the Coke and followed up with "you need some napkins too baby."
We clowned a lot after the fact, but it really is sad to see some 14 year old kid on the street hustling...even in designer jeans.
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November 15th, 2009
10:18 am - When Brothers Speak: Toronto, Day 2
Incredibly packed out. Like 400+ people. About 90% black attended, probably 92% women. This will be important for a future blog.
They were extremely receptive, engaging and I think just about everybody performed even better than they did the night before. I can't say all of us escaped with our souls still in tact, but that's another story as well. Headed to Ottawa this morning with the crew and I'm really looking forward to the show there. I keep hearing good things and that this point I don't expect too much different.
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November 14th, 2009
11:43 am - You don't know how bad the economy is...
...until you travel to another country. I remember when I first started coming to Toronto (for Carabana since 2003, in what Leah calls my debauchery days) the exchange rate was something like 1 CAD was equivalent to .74 cents USD. Right now? .98 cents. Almost a dollar to dollar equivalent. Obama, we're working on this right?
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10:53 am - When Brothers Speak, Night One
Last night was the opening night of the 11th When Brother's Speak Spoken Word Concert in Toronto.
And it was dope. Real dope. I gotta say, the vision that Dwayne Morgan has created of taking poetry out of the bars and into the concert hall is pretty special and one that many of us share. The crowd was pretty receptive (though they were probably a little tired by the time I closed out the show), but it was attended extremely well. So well in fact that it runs on two nights in Toronto because the venue he uses seats about 500 and this year they had about 700 pre sale tickets sold. Did I mention that these are $35 and $45 tickets. There's a shock value I associated with that number at first, but to be honest, as poets we all hoped that our craft would be valued that highly, so I'm at peace with it. Second show tonight, then we're off to Ottawa (I've never been) for Sunday's show.
This entry was originally conceived as my thoughts on the dynamic of predominantly black poetry shows, but I don't have the time today to give it the attention it deserves. More to come
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October 12th, 2009
01:57 pm - IWPS Wrap up
First and foremost (and I'm sure I'm being repetitive), this was the most tightly run Poetry Slam Event I've frequented (in which I've attended every one of them since IWPS 2005). The proximity of the venues, the attention to detail by the staff, I just can't give Ekabhumi and his crew enough credit. Doesn't mean it was perfect, but above any criticism I could honestly muster.
So a brief recap from the first night (I'll have more slam nerdery listed below): I had a total rank of "5" after day one and stood in 11th place overall going into day two. I pulled a total of a "3" on day two giving me a total rank of "8". This would be put in 5th place overall, the top 12 making Finals. Wow. You know, it was a goal of mine to make Finals, but I always envisioned myself sliding in somehow, not stomping into it. But all my poems went over really well in pre-lims and I made it in with a nice cushion. Even more special for me was the fact that Mr. Ed Mabrey made Finals too.
My history with Ed is well documented, so it felt 'right' for both of us to make Finals together. It took me a while to make an impression upon the poetry world without Ed's involvement (not his fault, just the natural way these things happen), so for us both to make the stage felt really good.
It was good having Ethan there representing Writing Wrongs too.
At first we both groaned when we found out we had BOTH of our Prelim bouts together. But it was a blessing for me to be able to see him perform all of his pieces at his first IWPS, even if we were competing against each other. I'm sure he would've like to place better, but in all honesty, it probably happened the way it should've. The first night was rough on him, but an eye opening moment, the second I saw more confidence and a better stage presence from him. A good overall experience for him and I look forward to seeing what it brings out of him.
Lastly, before the specifics of how I got to Finals, the Individual World Poetry Slam Champion Amy Everhart was pretty outstanding.
Many have said that this was the best Finals stage for IWPS. I dunno how true that is, but I was happy to be included. Many of the poets that made Finals I truly admired, so it was awesome to be amongst them. A great night overall.
Some fun facts:
As many have now figured out, Amy was the first woman ever to win IWPS.
But also, with Iyeoka finishing second, this was the first time since the first IWPS that two women made the final pairing.
In total (if my history is accurate), that still only brings the number of women to make the final four to 5 (Rachel McKibbens and Andrea Gibson twice, Celena Glenn and now Iyeoka and Amy).
Last item on gender would be that Finals was even split: 6 men and 6 women.
Another item: Denver is doing the damn thing. Including Ayinde Russell as the SAC, four poets from Denver graced the final stage. They did send 7, but still, that's a nice pull.
Another close to even split: Five vets (Khary Jackson, Tara Hardy, Original Woman, Ed, Alvin Lau, ) and 7 newbies to IWPS Finals (Amy, Iyeoka, Sierra DeMulder, Rudy Francisco, Kim Johnson, Theo Wilson & myself).
All in all I had a great time and this was easily one of the best poetic experiences I've had thus far.
Current Location: Home
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October 9th, 2009
02:24 pm - Day One @ IWPS
...was kind of badass. Fun stuff. Leah and I spent all day on a plane (our flight left at 6am EST), so to say we were fatigued by nights end was an understatement. First impressions, Berkeley is slightly awesome. Just north of stupendous. I love the environment, the community feel within the venues. I know the Bay Area has been touting how hard they've been working on IWPS and it shows, tremendously.
People have said it already, but I'll reiterate: women are running this IWPS. After day one, I think they are 4 of the top 5 and 7 of the top 12. The only qualifier I'll give is that more specifically, the western United States women are running IWPS. I'm pretty sure Iyeoka is the only woman east of the Mississippi in the top rankings (there's only 4 of us total with that regional differential in the top 12). Maybe that's a coincidence, maybe that's part of the growing discussion of just how regionally competitive the national events have gotten depending on where its held, but either way, they're bringing it and bringing it with fury.
Personally, I started off the day by doing the Masquerade Slam (hosted and created by Christian Drake). All persona poems and a really fun event. I did '21 Shots for Jesse Jackson from Huey P Newton'. I didn't realize they were scoring it (in the most loose and fun way possible) till I got there, but I ended up finishing 2nd in the slam to Sean Walker's amazing Tree persona piece. Great stuff.
I had a late bout and pulled the 1 spot in the rotation. Great. But I was lucky enough to 1) be in the late bout and 2) have this be the year that they switched the order of putting the 4 minute round first, then the 1 minute round. So, even though I was leading off, I could lead off with a stronger piece. I ended up with a 4 rank for my 4 minute, and a 1 for my 1 minute round giving me a total rank of 5. Puts me in 11th place heading into tonight. Ugh. I'd like more cushion. I would probably feel more comfortable knowing I had to climb to get in, cuz trying to hold serve ain't really my steez. Friday is always moving day at IWPS, things never end up the status quo, so I'm going to perform like I'm on the outside looking in.
Got a tough bout tonight, but I'm set up well (my reward for going first last night is going last in the first round today), so we'll see.
In the mean time, I'm cruising Berkeley with my wife, will stop in and see some workshops and the Poet CD showcase, then get myself ready to perform tonight.
Current Location: Berkeley
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August 19th, 2009
07:15 pm - IWPS moving forward
We had the IWPS finals at Writng Wrongs last night and it was a good show, even if it wasn't the complete show. There were 7 poets originally qualified for our Finals, one of which being reigning Writing Wrongs champ (and WOWPS champ as well) Barbara Fant. She got pretty ill after Nationals (tell me if you've heard this before), and was put out of commission for the Finals. Which sux, because I like seeing champs defend their crown (especially as far as comparing the growth of everyone else), but also because she's probably the most liked poet in my venue. So there was a noteable whole in the competition, but not necessarily in the show. In the end Ethan (or Skippy depending on how long ago you met him) did a spectacular job with all new work (the cocoon of a first Nationals at work again) and won by a comfortable margin.
Its been a good year for Ethan, he's been slamming since he was 18 (for Black Pearl Poetry at the time) and made a National Team for the first time this year. So him being the IWPS rep feels like a nice progression. Hopefully, he keeps a level head and grows as time goes on. I'm excited to see him in the bay to sit at the grown up table.
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August 17th, 2009
06:42 am - The Happenings (that don't suck like M. Night Shyalaman films)
I would do a more concentrated as less manic post, but so much is going on I'll just hit the main points:
The book release went extremely well last night. Kind of like a dream realized that I didn't know I had. Lots of people showed up, just about all that showed up bought a book, a very humbling moment. I'm proud of the book itself, the work I put into it, the physical appearance of it (credited to Mo Browne and my graphic artist Valerie Thompson of www.leapgraphics.com) is awesome. I hope people enjoy it as much as I did putting it together.
IWPS Grand Slam for our venue on Tuesday. Should be really interesting. I think any one of 3 different people could win it and win easily depending on how the night breaks. Crowd favorite? The up and comer? The most talented but sometimes distracted one? I don't really know. I know who I think will represent our venue best and will be easiest to coach/guide, but it remains to be seen how far that will go. Alas, everything reveals itself on Tuesday.
Speaking of which, I'm about 90% sure I made it in as a Storm Poet for IWPS myself. I think I got my registration in (and the venue registration as well) about 15 minutes after it went up. So we'll see. I know many venues set it so that their Grand Slam Champ from the NPS Slam off (that would've been me this year) gets the automatic IWPS slot, and I've been toggling going with that idea in the future. But I kind of like having a seperate competition, especially since I have such a new scene, the more slams with big stakes (with some time between them) the better to me. I think it feeds the competitive drive of the community and doesn't make anybody feel like they're out in the cold if they didn't win the team slam or even make the team. Plus, it puts less of an onus on people trying to crush each other on a team grand slam night, when normally people wouldn't care about winning it as much as just being part of something bigger. Yeah, I think I'll keep doing a seperate slam. Thoughts on that people?
And oh yeah, I get married in less than 3 weeks. How bout that. This should come as no surprise, but I'm very much ready to get this show on the road, so to speak. Wedding planning sucks huevos, which is bad coming from me since Leah has been doing the heavy lifting on this one. My groomsmen count has went down by two for different (but similar) reasons, which actually has turned out for the best. Outside of that, I can't really complain. Leah has kept her Bridezilla moments to a minimum, we're actually not over budget and no major obstacles have fell in front of us so far. Here's to smooth sailing the rest of the way
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August 9th, 2009
11:03 am - Knee Jerk Nats
So I had a damn good time at Nats this year. Not perfect, but how plausible is that? But pretty damn good. Missed my woman-friend a lot, but nothing too extreme. Just not used to going this long without relations...anyway.
Finals was pretty good for the most part. St Paul slaughtered...like all week. I don't have the slam nerdery at my fingertips, but I think they're only close bout was that first night. Besides that, they glided thru and it was much, much deserved. MIDWEST!
The rest of finals was up and down to me. San Fran & Nuyo seemed pretty tapped to me. I don't know in the case of San Fran, but I'm pretty sure the Nuyo wasn't tapped, it just seemed that way. I dunno, probably a conversation for another time. I was greatly impressed with ABQ. Just solid, solid work. I think ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) johnnylexicon did my favorite poem of the night...just completed fucked my head up. I remember kicking the cats next me and saying, "are you mutafuckas listening to this?!"
As is typically the case, there's no way I can remember all the unique things that happened throughout the week, but I do validate that NUPIC (National Underground Poetry Individual Championship) was a nice success and something I look forward to seeing at the next Nats (wherever that may be). It does have some 'flaws' (or they may just be some personal gripes of mine more accurately), but it still makes a nice and super entertaining event.
As for the Writing Wrongs Squad, ( I'm Proud of them )
I'm sure I have more, but the prain is overheated at the moment, pluse I've got some work to get done while I've still got some free Wi-Fi in the West Palm Beach Airport.
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June 28th, 2009
09:58 am - Fatigued of the Fatigue
With respects to my brother, jwbaz , he posted an entry stating the heckling any Michael Jackson poems would get at Nationals. I laughed, as I usually do at Baz. This didn't surprise me, what did was the cult like fashion everyone jumped on to display their two cents on it. The reality for me is this...I'm fatigued on all the displayed fatigue the 'poety elite' have on other people's poetry.
I seriously hope that all the time our community spends on talking about the poetry they don't want to hear, they spend twice as much time crafting good, original work that represents what they don't think is voiced enough. Do I go into a bout wanting to hear a slavery poem or zombie survival? Not necessarily, but if its a good poem, its a good fuckin poem. End of story.
My guess is that much of the bitterness comes from poets getting by poems with a retread topic they felt was inferior to their own good writing. I won't be the first to say, but I'll say it here...tough, write a better fuckin poem.
For me personally, I get more fatigued on a style or cadence of a performed poem, especially if the delivery is just not believable. I say this as a person who doesn't like 60% of the poetry they hear (I do host a Open Mic), but even popular or cliched topics shouldn't be shot out of the sky before they catch the jet stream just because you missed making a slam team to that same topic in 2004.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/classic/blah.gif) blah
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June 1st, 2009
09:02 am - Rustbelt Regional Poetry Slam in Toronto
To get it out of the way, lets hang a big, pink dress (in honor of Barbara Fant) on the elephant in the corner:
A lot of people decided to not come to Rustbelt this year.
Which is a shame...but understandable from some standpoints. ( That's what we call a tease peoples )
Current Location: Home Finally
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/classic/sad.gif) exhausted
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May 27th, 2009
09:56 am - Instead of
giving you a state of William address since its been eons since I lasted posted, just the highlights son
The Writing Wrongs Slam Team was assembled at the end of April
1. Wyk McGowan-newbie
2. Ethan Rivera - newbie
3. Mike "Spike" Cowell - 3rd Nationals
4. Barbara Fant - all world
5. Myself as player coach.
I'd say, the most diverse and well rounded team I've been on thus far. I like our chances.
Speaking of Writing Wrongs, its been how you say...awesome. No complaints...except for the local vultures but you know...that just means you're doing something right.
I can't keep my chapbook in stock, which is surprising to me. I've been happy with it sales.
I've transitioned into a full-time artist. Lost the corporate gig...have no desire to go back. So I created my own job. Projecting Murals LLC. A non-profit that links artists in the community and contracts them to do workshops, lectures and performances for High Schools, Correctional Facilities, summer programs, etc.
Wedding is still full steam ahead, September 5th in Cleveland, OH. I'm doing my best to give input when asked and stay out of the way the other 93% of the time. Its working out so far.
Currently, I'm sitting in the most artistic house in London, Ontario. The show was great last night. I'm chilling today, before me and Barb-Wire head off to Toronto tomorrow for Rustbelt so we can greet Baz as Detroit native. Fun times.
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April 6th, 2009
06:21 pm - Cross Posting from FB (4-6)
So I don't blitz you all with 7 poems at once or something
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#5
( #5 )
( #6 )
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April 3rd, 2009
02:35 pm - Poem a Day Week in Review (1-3)
Since I'm posting them on Facebook already, I'll group a weeks worth here every friday.
#1
I can tell the shape of her kiss The way it unfolds against my teeth The scrape is deliberate And teasing Wants to undress my grin Like laughter Or phonebooks ripped In half She wispers these yearnings in my ear Monsoon subtlety Searches out my body for locations Lacking in guilt or bone The rhombus in my breastplate That has forgotten its angles I take the blood of these kisses behind my ear The boatman welcomes me During the minutes Owned by moon slivers It is here I sleep the sleep Of firecrackers Where my cheeks are New England parchment Aged and curling at the corners Praying for her to mishandle the quill And clumsy the still-born thoughts all over These are shapeless And never stop Unfolding #2 La lluvia trae su nombre
By the time the first officer arrived
My right shoulder
Had settled under my chin
As if the joint was on a sliding track
To my sternum
My assailant lay dormant
A dent in his ribs
The size of ball/socket
And gravity
Suppressed Spanish
Crawling under his labored breath
An iconoclast staring at the heaven
He fell from
The railing from the ledge
Still dripping the bravado
He boasted before
My cursive hand wrote
Onomatopoeia
Against the devil side
Of his jaw
Perhaps
I could remember the peace-man’s face
If my eyes weren’t eight ball side pocketing
In my skull from the pain
His questions sounded like underwater
Gunshots aimed at my shadow
The tone changing
As he stared at the widest points
Of my body
Realizing it failed the symmetry
We are birthed with
His sympathy came in the form
Of my shoulder coin slot jackpotting
Into its origin
The crash of a reloaded shotgun
Coursing thru my right side
To this day
I only remember the fall in tildes
A twenty foot drop
With another man’s heartbeat
As my landing pad
I did not know his girlfriend long
Possibly shorter
Than the Lucifer vertical
We both enjoyed
I’m guessing she spoke native tongue
To him
When explaining the fit of her waist
Against my forearm
The punctuality of my gaze
To her hips
As they dug into the matrix
Of the bowling alley
The arcade her accent
Could play on the same quarter all day
She would speak torpedo
Into my deepest waters
The Spanish words spackling
Between the existence of a boyfriend
She misplaced my knowledge for
I suppose that pollen doesn’t always
Owe the wind an explanation
For carrying it away
It just hopes the sun will continue to shine
During its travel
My swift may have been overrated
Back then
Perhaps she is the reason
I cannot throw a fastball
Without her Saint Eurosia hair pendant
Rotating in my throat
Her fingernails harping my ribs
When I reach up to kitchen cabinets
Why I can never make it thru a Spanish course
Or feel the weight of her voice
On my collar when it rains
It is possible
She is more majestic in the ache of my shoulder
Than she is in real life
That she saw a skinny black teen
As more spaceship
Than anchor
Or oak tree
The stairs coughed dust under each betrayal of flight. His steps fault line split the plush into Burberry gashes not intended to heal. Each boot below sea level groans white flags into his treads. He reaches the Atlantic floor and pivots like a train derailed. Bloodhounds the basement, combing the wind for a virgin taste in his cheeks. A bottle rocket pin drop he can be proud of. A medusa glare ensnares the small table in the corner, an island seceded from idle hands. You have curled your legs under you like swept glass from a mother’s day vase, keep your arms under the rickety wooden umbrella as if heaven bore acid in its bosom. You feel the clockwork of the floorboards as he drags himself toward the table. A long necked glass woman in his palm, spewing spuds from her throat as he stammers. Puts her to his lips and spills her words down the front of his torn armor. You feel him pendulum toward you, gathering speed he does not control. He can smell future in your soap, upsets his stomach something terrible. He crosses the equator, wants to open your hemisphere. You smell your mother’s insides when he reaches for you. Tightens your venus fly trap around the screwdriver. His wing has less feathers than you remember. Marilyn Monroe’s the table cover. You ready the screwdriver between your fingers like a gear shift, imagine putting his neckline in Neutral. When officer Turner arrives, you’ll tell him you’re a good listener, that good girls know how to follow directions. It was just like you he told it would be, swing your arm down like pulling open a curtain. Just like pulling open a curtain.
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