A lil break from what I’m currently working on and time to switch it up a bit by responding to a writing prompt from novelist Luis Alberto Urrea: What do your hands remember? Let them tell it–what do they remember?
Here it is…
Ghazal for Hands That Have Never Known Work
[Poem was here.]
Thinking back on early influences, I have to cite Jeffrey McDaniel’s work as one of the first times page really met stage for me with his combination of unique reading style and image heavy poetry that always found a way to tell a moral without ever sounding preachy.
Since I’m trying to find that same balance in my own manuscript, I return to one of my favorite poems from McDaniel, “The Foxhole Manifesto,” and its haunting epigraph: There are no atheists in foxholes. – old Christian proverb.
Here is my riff on that old Christian proverb and how I think it fits into my version of City.
The Manhole Manifesto
[Poem was here.]
The reading at Abobe Books last night has definitely breathed new life into my poetics. I’ve revised older work, shared new work, read work from other poets and came back to the bedrock of my work–sharing my story with new audiences.
First off, Daphne Gottlieb shared some amazing new work where she embodied the voice of carnival workers, a clear extension of her poetic manifesto of finding the voice of society’s “others.” Instead of staying in the safe space of revisiting voices she has personified before, Gottlieb brought the audience into a world many have visited (the land of carny and festival lore) but few have actually taken the time to explore. Gottlieb let us explore that world with poetry that channeled persona and emotion in clear and direct tones while still elevating the music of common speech.
Charlie Jane Anders came through fresh from the chaos of Wonder Con and went right into a new story filled with time travel, cancer babies, sumo robots, rocket-propelled grenades and an assassination attempt on one of the US’s most beloved Presidents. Yeah, seriously, and you know what–she pulled it all off with crisp dialogue, kinetic language and a reading style that made the audience believe every word was truth than the Bible. With her focus on reporting for IO9 and curating some of SF’s best literary venues, you shouldn’t miss a chance to her Miss Charlie Jane when she reads her work.
As for me, I was psyched to find out earlier in the week that I would be getting twenty minutes to read, a big leap from the seven or ten minutes I’ve been getting lately. Not that I’m complaining, any chance to read is a good chance to work on your orality but twenty minutes gives me a chance to share a couple of arcs of work, recite poems from other writers, and sneak some banter in which is exactly what I did. My reading wasn’t perfect, my voice choked on a few spots and I swore a little too much in my banter but overall, I had a good time and my recitation skills continue to improve with better articulation, varied pacing and more persona. I still need to work on my keeping my breathing under control and staying true to the clock (I came in just under the mark).
SET LIST
• I’m Jus Askin
• Urban Relación
• The Story of How Pigeon Came to Live in City
• One Question, Several Answers
• Mami’s Ghazal
• M/mediation I Dominance by Ruth Ellen Kocher
• The Lady of Guadalupe’s Dream and Jade Ruin by J. Michael Martinez
• Heaven Below
• Psalm for Public Housing
• Ash Wednesday
• Good Friday
Many thanks to everyone at Eleven Eleven and Adobe Books for making this happen. Now I have to hustle to get more readings so I can keep this momentum going.
I’m still on the Holy Week kick and doing more research on the origins and rituals behind this current feast. Since I already have an “Ash Wednesday” poem, I figured I might as well go all the way and see how much more stuff I can include. Same rules apply as before; keep it City, keep it vibrant, keep it ritual, keep it song.
Once I found out exactly what Holy Saturday was about–anticipation-I thought about waiting on a corner for some late ass bus. Not a bad idea but I already have a poem in the collection where my speaker is speaking to God while waiting for the #4 to come in to the station. Oh well, good idea already done. The poem I came up with is more a combo of Catholic practice and urban vernacular which gives me something fun to play with. Though, come to think of it, somewhere down the road I should switch it up and see what to do when Catholic vernacular clashes with urban practice.
Here goes today’s poem:
Sabbatum Sanctum
[Poem was here.]
One of Anywhere Avenue’s recurring themes is the presence of God in City. As a recovering Catholic, the ceremony of the Church will always be in my head and is one of my initial introductions to poetry as an active communal act. Thinking about it for a hard second, I would even say that it would be my first exposure to performance poetry–the costumes of the clergy, the ringing of bells on the lifting of the Sacrament, the raining of Holy Water, the scent of Holy Smoke and the music that seemed more alive in the Spanish Saturday Night Mass as opposed to the more understated Sunday Morning Mass.
Yes, there is much poetry and art in the rituals of my youth and, to this day, I can participate in just about any Catholic ceremony with an equal amount of snark and distrust alongside a familiarity with the tomes of the Mass.
Here is today’s poem: equal parts prayer and irreverence towards the glorious City.
Good Friday
[Poem was here.]
