the bottom line is this-

job tres is a done deal and i will be teaching kids from the bronx river projects (one of the true homes of hip-hop, yo!) poetry through the writings of latino authors.

kids… martin espada. martin espada.. these are the kids.

it is going to be a hella dope challenge and all the people i have met so far are right there with me when it comes to my view points as progressive critiqued poetry being a valuable and indispensable means of passive social activism. (whew!)

the whole poetry as social activism deal is something that’s been with me for a while. from when people first started sharing how our poetry directly affects our audience and the consequences of what that could potentially do. i have seen a cascading waterfall of poems emanating from one performance or even a lecture of poetry. the responsibility of the mic is heavy and to limit your sights to just the next pay check or how quick you can pump out a chapbook is, in the sorta rican’s mind, a disservice to the art from that got you hear.

you know that- kids are starving in india- bit your mom used to guilt trip you with. well, poets have died for getting on the mic. garcia-lorca got blasted for writing magical realism. and i see muthafuckahs riffing about their ex’es dirty cooch for five minutes and get mad when people tell them times up on the mic. (rant, over)

the real symbolism was brought to me when the e.d. pointed outside to a friendly spray painted mural that just shows some kids holding hands preaching peace.

“in another place, that’s enough to get us all kicked out of here.” palabra

i was also at a theatre workshop over the weekend. the majority of it consisted of a group of exercises designed to subconsciously have us admit out co-dependence upon our communities. it wasn’t said but that’s what i got out of it. one of the early ones had us introduce our selves and what type of activist we are.

activist? sheet… i host a mic twice a month and read my musings on the first soapbox i can find… activist? but then all of it started to come together and instead of running from the label i wanted to see where it fit in.

“i am part of a community of writers that has chosen to dispel borders and language as definitions and look toward artistic choices as a root denominator”

incredible the shit that will come from my mouth when the clock is on.

there is an ancillary effect on this new career choice i have made. my classes are from 6-8 on monday nights meaning i don’t know if i will be coming back to bar13. it’s a 12 week gig but i think that i can make it a little more permanent, maybe. for now, this next monday will be my last one for a while… i mean, i can still make it for the features and for the slams but it’s always been about the open mic for me and if i miss that… then i may not have any good reason to show up.

i have been looking for time off from 13 for a lil bit. this last monday’s feature was a good time off and there were some other dates that i showed up more cuz the louder crew was dispatched to the four corners and were short staffed rather than actually really wanting to be there. for me, this can only be a good thing cuz more teaching equals more writing and more social work equals clearer purpose as to why i am on this dust ball. and some time to catch raw again will be good seeing that benoit is going to get the belt and all ;-)

doing your job

eliel, thanks for the space to do my thing on saturday. you put together an audience, open mic list and feature (jane- not me) that would have been the envy of a lot of readings in this city. for real!

for the uninitiated, jane lecroy is just plain bad ass. she featured for synonymus last year and her duet with tom abbs (which included a freestlyle) was one of the highlights of the series run. all done while she was seven months pregnant! that show was the jump off event for 2003, a week before the ‘5past13’ cd recording party so i used the show as an opportunity to give the musical rendition of “MotB” a live run through first. turns out a young lucero was in the audience and the rest, as the scholars say, is history.

if you can change one life with your poetry- then you’ve done your job. i’ve been lucky enough to affect a few lives. who knows to what end but thats what i’ve been told. friday at the nuyo open room, i read the ‘Sorta Rican” series and while the room was exactly what you would expect at 2:30 in the am after a 5 person slam, i still was able to hear one person in the house vibing on what i was saying. all the insider references were being anticipated and getting approval as i was saying them almost like if i was editing the poem myself out loud on stage. as i was braking out i see this one girl walking towards me with intent and i set it off- ‘another ecua?’

she was really loving the piece and the message- “it’s what i’ve always wanted to say” there is no bigger compliment than that so i gave her the copy of the poem and told her thanks. neruda said it’s all about giving voice to the voiceless- word!

at salon lucero, i read this other piece that talks about my old journeys wandering around this city at all hours just looking for another strip club and a good locker room tale. it’s not meant to be popular (pretty sure i will get hissed at one day when i mention the strip club but thats the way the ball bounces- g!)or even fully understood- it’s the indulgence that i ask for- in return for the hits, you gotta listen to my reflections. one of the “new” open micers tells me that there was this one piece that he was digging more than the rest and i’m thinking (i know you’ve been to the copa. too) but he talks to me about being lost and feeling your internal compass go to shit and how the piece really hit em. more good times and reason enough to keep going on with this life that kinda found me at the right time and not vice-versa.

really indulgent entry, today. makes me sound like my shit is manna from heaven which it aint. the blog.tribe knows more than the causal observer that i miss way more often that i hit and even those hits arent homeruns. i’ve made a career out of hitting where they aint and hustling to first base. to expand the analogy, if i was on a team- i’d probably be a catcher cuz i love hearing what no one else does and being privy to silent communication over yells and shout. i can also see myself covering home and waiting for a locomotive in a jersey coming to score, holding on the ball for dear life and trying my best to cover the base. i may not be real athletic but when you point to me a job and i agree to it, then ima do it.

determination isnt a substitute for success and tenacity isnt the same as being prolific, the odds say that i will fail more often than succeed but when i do get it right and jot down a good poem and hit it on the mic like i should- then you get some interesting rewards. like having a stranger that heard you recite just one time come back and be a friend and supporter and compose his own platform plea to be heard above the din of the city.

so i was in one of those moods today. this has been a great week for me poetically. i finally feel like if i have a diverse enough set of poems that i can write for the sake of writing and not write to try to prove something.

(flashback- last year after the bar13 semi-finals- a talk with two friends)

“we came here to tell ya sumthin”

uh huh

“your work this monday was cool but we think…”

yes?

“we think you should be more funny”

huh?

“you are trying to hard to be a p_o_e_t and its messin with your writing”

ok, i’ll gibe ya that but i do want to be a poet

“yeah but you are trying to sound like how you think people want you to sound instead of trying to be how you are”

what do you suggest

(in stereo)”be more funny”

“you are funny in real life- your writing should be funny”

that right there was one of the best talks i ever had in my poetic life. nothing like some straight up critique to get you rolling. even if it does take nine months for the sheet to sink in.

(end flashback)

something that i read for inspiration from time to time-



Young Poets by Nicanor Parra

Write as you will

In whatever style you like

Too much blood has run under the bridge

To go on believing

That only one road is right.

In poetry everything is permitted.

With only this condition of course,

You have to improve the blank page.

it was one of those days whre i wanted to rememer who i was- a newbie in the back who was either listening intently or writing furiously. i’m still a good listener and have been surprised as to how much goodness there is out there. not the same furious writer but i’ve been hanging with some folks who only pause from their journals long enough to catch a breath and enjoy the new landscpae before attacking the blank page like a young poet should and, let me say this, until the last poem is written- we are all young poets.