Category Archives: Uncategorized

For many political poets it all begins on 9/11 but for me the date 9/9/01 is a more important personal date since that was the day I read Jimmy Santiago Baca’s A Place to Stand. I already knew Baca’s poetic work and was a huge fan of the film he scripted, Blood In Blood Out: Bound by Honor, but reading his autobiography definitely changed my definition of poetic struggle as it was my first exposure to a poet who had to wrestle with the word in a non-academic setting. In the end, it gave me hope that I could become a poet myself through a combination of rigorous reading (of everything I could find- poetry collections, anthologies, essays, speech technique, dramatic monologue, memorization techniques, literary biography, graphic novels, performance texts, et al.), attending community poetry workshops, and hitting every reading/open mic I could find.

I’ve wanted to thank Mr Baca for that inspiration for a long time but the opportunity never materialized since he doesn’t do many open poetry events in NYC or the Bay Area. Trust me, I’ve tried.

That was rectified today with a visit to the Alameda Juvenile Center alongside Central Coast Poet Garland Thompson and Jimmy Santiago Baca for an opportunity to read poetry and talk to the youth inside.

While this has been in the works for a while I haven’t blogged about it for a few reasons
a) it wasn’t an open to the public event
b) a million things can go wrong when you visit an incarceration center and there is no such thing as a “confirmed visit”
c) I don’t like to blog about things that might happen and prefer to just let em play out

We read for two different groups of young males. One was in an open recreation room setting with about 60+ in the room. All the guys, part of the maximum-security unit, were respectful and in genuine awe of Jimmy as he spoke to them about his past experiences, current projects and future endeavors. It was amazing to see Jimmy reach these kids with the same stories he was sharing with me just a few minutes ago. No need to exaggerate or change his tone, all he did was talk his truth and every ear in the place was open to his message.

I was only slated to be an observer and hear Jimmy read his work to the population who deserve it the most. This, by itself, would have been more than enough for me. So it was an amazing honor to have Jimmy ask me to read some poems with him. Yeah, having Jimmy Santiago Baca intro me as a fellow poeta to the guys was beyond surreal.

Good thing that Garland (who I knew back from the NYC days) was hanging with me, waiting by the sidelines, and also sharing his work with the guys.

We then visited another group of guys in their own unit. Just like the previous group, they were fascinated by Jimmy’s stories and enraptured by his presence. We didn’t have as much time with them as the other group but did have a chance for a longer Q&A session. While they were asking their questions, I was scanning the room for signs of hardened criminals, true hard-cases, but all I could see was young men with bright faces looking for some real guidance and straight truth. During the Q&A, one asked about our writing processes and I got to tell them about my quest for publication and how I’m making it happen poem by poem, chapbook by chapbook, and showed em copies of Anywhere Avenue and (the just completed) Palimpsest which prompted him to ask me for a copy of a chapbook. This led to a bunch of the guys asking for one and before I knew it I had handed out like 18 copies.

I was thanked later on by one of the literacy volunteers, who also asked and got a chapbook, for coming in and sharing with the guys. She then told me that this was also a max-security group of younger men, some already tried as adults. I thought again about the look on their faces when Jimmy was speaking, how much light was in them as they were given copies of Jimmy’s poems, novels, and essays. It’s hard to imagine that as the face of America’s prison industrial complex but that could be their reality, if left alone. I’m glad that someone like Jimmy can bring them words of hope so that their struggle for survival become a road to some kind of acceptance. I know it sounds so cliché and altruistic but the alternative is to imagine all these lives thrown into the gears of a cruel machine that will teach them only to inflict and receive violence.

One visit isn’t enough to change that grim outlook, but it’s a start, and if I have the chance, I’ll go back again and share more poetry.

This may all sound very heavy, which it is, but it’s also full of a lot of hope and reward. Not the kind of reward where someone walks up to you and tells you that your poetry just changed their life, or that they want you to feature at a big gig, or give you an automatic book contract. No, this is about community building and if you think about the rate of return then you’ll get depressed. If you think that poetry is your ticket to some magic big time, then you’ll be let down. If you think that the audience will applaud your craft, then you’ll be seriously let down. But if you can step outside of your self and let the poems speak for themselves, if you can trust that even in the darkest places there are eyes looking for beauty and ears wanting music, if you can ignore your self-doubt and fight to make the poem alive, and expect absolutely nothing back, then you will understand what I call beautiful.

Who Understands Me But Me
By Jimmy Santiago Baca

They turn the water off, so I live without water,
they build walls higher, so I live without treetops,
they paint the windows black, so I live without sunshine,
they lock my cage, so I live without going anywhere,
they take each last tear I have, I live without tears,
they take my heart and rip it open, I live without heart,
they take my life and crush it, so I live without a future,
they say I am beastly and fiendish, so I have no friends,
they stop up each hope, so I have no passage out of hell,
they give me pain, so I live with pain,
they give me hate, so I live with my hate,
they have changed me, and I am not the same man,
they give me no shower, so I live with my smell,
they separate me from my brothers, so I live without brothers,
who understands me when I say this is beautiful?
who understands me when I say I have found other freedoms?

I cannot fly or make something appear in my hand,
I cannot make the heavens open or the earth tremble,
I can live with myself, and I am amazed at myself, my love, my beauty,
I am taken by my failures, astounded by my fears,
I am stubborn and childish,
in the midst of this wreckage of life they incurred,
I practice being myself,
and I have found parts of myself never dreamed of by me,
they were goaded out from under rocks in my heart
when the walls were built higher,
when the water was turned off and the windows painted black.
I followed these signs
like an old tracker and followed the tracks deep into myself
followed the blood-spotted path,
deeper into dangerous regions, and found so many parts of myself,
who taught me water is not everything,
and gave me new eyes to see through walls,
and when they spoke, sunlight came out of their mouths,
and I was laughing at me with them,
we laughed like children and made pacts to always be loyal,
who understands me when I say this is beautiful?

I’m feeling all kinds of extra snarky these days and I’m liking it. The last few weeks have been heavy for me with a self-imposed reticence based on the perception that I’m lacking in prestige (etymology: from Latin praestigiae, plural, conjuror’s tricks, from praestringere to graze, blunt, constrict, from prae- + stringere to bind tight).

It’s more like I’m caught in the middle of my publication journey with some great acceptances in journals I really respect and some heavy rejections from journals I also really respect. This is what happens when you don’t submit to every call that goes out there and you actually care what happens to your work. At least, that’s what happens to me.

This in-between place is pretty familiar for me, I was in a similar spot a few years back as I had the prestige of being the louderARTS Slam Master (through a lot of hard work, natural math ability, and attending more slams than just about anybody I knew) but always found myself losing in arguments because I had never actually won any slams as a poet. Yeah, that little drive down memory lane was a very indulgent peek into my past, but it’s my blog and I’ll reminisce if I want to.

Meanwhile, back in West Oakland, I’m getting more proactive about carving out a place of my own in poetry world and making some personal power moves. One of them is to be more vocal here on the blog and call out some whackness when I see/read it. I’ll also try to balance that with even more critical writing and catch up on some thoughts from past readings that are still on my mind. But poetry is taking a bit of a back seat to electoral politics so let’s praise and bash some things.

FLY: Jeff Chang captures the turn of the historical page on the Vibe blog.

The election of the first biracial African American president in the history of the U.S. set off ecstatic celebrations all across the country. Twitter’s server stopped for a few minutes, overloaded by messages. In Oakland, Berkeley, and Seattle, people poured into the streets and instant block parties sprung up as if it was the Bronx in the summer of ’77. Crowds marched cheering to the White House. They filled Times Square as if it was New Year’s Eve. They came 1 million strong into Grant Park to hear Obama deliver his victory speech, the very place where the Democratic Party collapsed in police riots 40 years ago.

WHACK: Ralph Nader, not just a loser, but a racist as well. Just goes to show you don’t have to be a Republican to be an asshole.

In a radio interview, Ralph Nader asks whether Barack Obama will be “Uncle Sam . .. or Uncle Tom,” and then defends the comment on Fox News.

FLY: Derek Walcott pens some verse for the President-Elect

Forty Acres: a poem for Barack Obama

STILL FLY: Alice Walker writes Obama a letter.

I would further advise you not to take on other people’s enemies. Most damage that others do to us is out of fear, humiliation and pain. Those feelings occur in all of us, not just in those of us who profess a certain religious or racial devotion. We must learn actually not to have enemies, but only confused adversaries who are ourselves in disguise.

HELLA WHACK: Ban of gay marriage passes in California.

This morning, it was clear that voters had approved Proposition 8, which would amend the California Constitution to ban same-sex marriage. Even as thousands in San Francisco’s Castro district poured into the streets to dance, chant and wave flags after Barack Obama’s victory, the epicenter of the nation’s gay rights movement was awash in a mix of emotions.

GETTIN FLY: SF takes the fight for equality back to the courts.

A day after California voters approved a state constitutional ban on same-sex marriage, the incendiary issue returned to the state Supreme Court, where gay and lesbian couples and the city of San Francisco filed lawsuits Wednesday seeking to overturn Proposition 8.

WHACK: Palin must be ready to run in 2012 cuz she’s taking the road every high-level Republican takes: Blame someone else for your shortcomings.

Sarah Palin doesn’t think she is to blame for the Republican party’s election defeat on Tuesday, saying that voters were swayed by a “woeful” economic situation.

SUPA DUPA FLY: I came across this during Guy’s live blogging of Election Day and it’s been giving me hope ever since. You should read the whole thing:

I have a confession to make.

I did not vote for Barack Obama today.

I’ve openly supported Obama since March. But I didn’t vote for him today.

People, don’t be whack, stay fly.

It’s a new day and I am hoping that what I experienced last night was not an isolated burst of Oakland pride. What I’m reading on different blogs and news reports; the images from Harlem, Kenya, Atlanta, and mighty Chicago; and the festivities I participated in when the news networks put up the words “Barack Hussein Obama: President-Elect;” all this says that the collective unconscious of America has been affected in the most beautiful way possible.

Is it possible that the ideals of the Civil Rights Movement reached their fruition? That the conviction and grass-roots organizational power of the Black Panther and Young Lords Parties has defeated the Grand Ole Political Machine? Maybe. Maybe this goes farther back to the New Deal, to Suffrage, to the Civil War, maybe this is the Constitution (the one Obama relates to) gaining a new foothold in the minds of the Americans who recite it out of practice but don’t live it in practice.

If that is the case, then much more has to be done. The election of this new President is a herald of hope and an end to the malaise of the last eight years but that hope can’t be held in front of our faces to block out the blight around us, that hope has to be left to the side of the road as a marker for those who don’t know hope. For those who life and trudge through this American life, that every second is dedicated to survival, and where hope drains precious scant resources and doesn’t make anything plausible happen.

The issues that have driven me as a political poet still exist in this new America. The constant uprooting of hard-working families from the slums of the inner-city, to the slums of the suburbs, to the slums of pre-fab communities, and then back to the inner-city is still happening around us through the mortgage crisis which has been bank rolled with their savings and their dreams for a real home. The education system is still a mess that favors the economically and culturally Anglo-centric advantaged. The prison system is still this country’s ghost economy: taking advantage of young men in need of guidance and education and giving them the rule of the overseer and the law of immediate survival as their bread and water, converting them into cogs for a machine that once produced roads and license plates and is now is doing that and making your cheaper rubber products and cultivating organic food for mass sale. The other great ghost economy of the undocumented laborers in our country remains an open issue, which I interpret as a still open wound.

The end of the wars abroad doesn’t mean the wars here at home will end. But I get the feeling that more many poets it will be the end of their political outcry. But if all they’ve ever had is a war that they’ve never lived then they should not fear the death of their political poetry because, in the futile end, they never ever really lived that.

[yes, many people will still deny the power of orature and claim that the emotional delivery of words is an just an act of self-indulgent spectacle and to them i will always say, “good for you, enjoy your text dead on the page.” i say this after barb and i celebrated the ascension of a new president, a president who is a man of letters and of eloquence. he is of such eloquence that the celebration we attended—full of live music, great food, and much alcohol—cleared out the minute we all learned that management couldn’t amplify the tv speakers over the house sound system. so, just like that, the standing room only crowd that just a few minutes ago was chanting “nah, nah, nah, hey, goodbye” to the closed captioned john mccain concession speech up and walked out when they realized they would not be able to hear the victory speech of barack hussein obama.

it took a minute to get to another, even more packed, local restaurant (the renowned E&J’s) to find a spot to see obama address the sea of people waiting in chicago’s grant park to hear the words of the man they believe will bring the change that they have waited for. and the crowd at E&J’s were also waiting for those words, wildly cheering the image of obama on tv and then shushing anyone who was talking so that they could hear the speech, experience with their ears what they already knew–that a simple three word phrase can electrify and mobilize. that what someone else may dub “branding” can become a mantra. as barack repeated his litany of “yes we can” so did all of grant park, and E&J’s, and everywhere that it all starts with a phrase uttered.

the age of the illiterate presidency is dead, long live the eloquent presidency.]

Remarks of President-Elect Barack Obama-as prepared for delivery
Election Night
Tuesday, November 4th, 2008
Chicago, Illinois

If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.

It’s the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen; by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the very first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different; that their voice could be that difference.

It’s the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Latino, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled – Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been a collection of Red States and Blue States: we are, and always will be, the United States of America.

It’s the answer that led those who have been told for so long by so many to be cynical, and fearful, and doubtful of what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day.

It’s been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, in this election, at this defining moment, change has come to America.

I just received a very gracious call from Senator McCain. He fought long and hard in this campaign, and he’s fought even longer and harder for the country he loves. He has endured sacrifices for America that most of us cannot begin to imagine, and we are better off for the service rendered by this brave and selfless leader. I congratulate him and Governor Palin for all they have achieved, and I look forward to working with them to renew this nation’s promise in the months ahead.

I want to thank my partner in this journey, a man who campaigned from his heart and spoke for the men and women he grew up with on the streets of Scranton and rode with on that train home to Delaware, the Vice President-elect of the United States, Joe Biden.

I would not be standing here tonight without the unyielding support of my best friend for the last sixteen years, the rock of our family and the love of my life, our nation’s next First Lady, Michelle Obama. Sasha and Malia, I love you both so much, and you have earned the new puppy that’s coming with us to the White House. And while she’s no longer with us, I know my grandmother is watching, along with the family that made me who I am. I miss them tonight, and know that my debt to them is beyond measure.

To my campaign manager David Plouffe, my chief strategist David Axelrod, and the best campaign team ever assembled in the history of politics – you made this happen, and I am forever grateful for what you’ve sacrificed to get it done.

But above all, I will never forget who this victory truly belongs to – it belongs to you.

I was never the likeliest candidate for this office. We didn’t start with much money or many endorsements. Our campaign was not hatched in the halls of Washington – it began in the backyards of Des Moines and the living rooms of Concord and the front porches of Charleston.

It was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give five dollars and ten dollars and twenty dollars to this cause. It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation’s apathy; who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep; from the not-so-young people who braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on the doors of perfect strangers; from the millions of Americans who volunteered, and organized, and proved that more than two centuries later, a government of the people, by the people and for the people has not perished from this Earth. This is your victory.

I know you didn’t do this just to win an election and I know you didn’t do it for me. You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime – two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century. Even as we stand here tonight, we know there are brave Americans waking up in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan to risk their lives for us. There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after their children fall asleep and wonder how they’ll make the mortgage, or pay their doctor’s bills, or save enough for college. There is new energy to harness and new jobs to be created; new schools to build and threats to meet and alliances to repair.

The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America – I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you – we as a people will get there.

There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won’t agree with every decision or policy I make as President, and we know that government can’t solve every problem. But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And above all, I will ask you join in the work of remaking this nation the only way it’s been done in America for two-hundred and twenty-one years – block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.

What began twenty-one months ago in the depths of winter must not end on this autumn night. This victory alone is not the change we seek – it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you.

So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other. Let us remember that if this financial crisis taught us anything, it’s that we cannot have a thriving Wall Street while Main Street suffers – in this country, we rise or fall as one nation; as one people.

Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long. Let us remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House – a party founded on the values of self-reliance, individual liberty, and national unity. Those are values we all share, and while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress. As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, “We are not enemies, but friends…though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection.” And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn – I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your President too.

And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of our world – our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand. To those who would tear this world down – we will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security – we support you. And to all those who have wondered if America’s beacon still burns as bright – tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from our the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope.

For that is the true genius of America – that America can change. Our union can be perfected. And what we have already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that’s on my mind tonight is about a woman who cast her ballot in Atlanta. She’s a lot like the millions of others who stood in line to make their voice heard in this election except for one thing – Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old.

She was born just a generation past slavery; a time when there were no cars on the road or planes in the sky; when someone like her couldn’t vote for two reasons – because she was a woman and because of the color of her skin.

And tonight, I think about all that she’s seen throughout her century in America – the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can’t, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can.

At a time when women’s voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can.

When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs and a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can.

When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can.

She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that “We Shall Overcome.” Yes we can.

A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination. And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change. Yes we can.

America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves – if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?

This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time – to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth – that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can’t, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:

Yes We Can. Thank you, God bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America.

What One Word Describes Your Current State of Mind?

Enter the word that best describes your current mood. You can submit a response every hour. The NYTimes.com interactive page will update with the most popular choices from NYTimes.com readers.