I was the first to arrive at the venue Saturday night for the reading. The venue is a nurturing writing space for women in East Oakland, where my friend A_____ volunteers. If you hadn't been to the place before nor had the facebook invite, there's no way even the next door neighbors would know anything …
A Poetry Reading @ Poetry Express
The restaurant was quiet and church-like. The wait staff and cooks outnumbered the guests. I walked towards the back and found a banquet room where a half dozen people sat quietly eating. They sat at one of the two long banquet tables in a kind of solemn thanksgiving. The woman hosting who'd emailed me sometime …
The Security Guard
At least three times a week, I leave work and walk two blocks over to the library. I go to write and if writing doesn't happen, I hang out with and gently molest the books and dvd's. Three good poems came out of my library visits the last few weeks. Like some expectant fisherman, I …
The Empty Room
On the way to the hospital, I walk past Mosswood Park and was compelled to visit the amphitheater. Speckled key lights of sun were spilled randomly along the ground. When was the last time I was here: the late 90's men's group meeting? I was quite fond of those Sundays when a bunch of male …
Intersectionalities or This Morning In Missed Connections
I stood at the bus stop, the sky freshly blushing with day. I stood alone and traffic was light to non-existent. At the bus stop and to my left, there's an apartment building with a small parking lot marked by a wood fence. While standing there, I could see just over the fence and briefly …
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How Do You Write Poems?
SPOILER: I don't. They write me. I woke up in time to catch CBS Sunday Morning and the moment it was over, I clicked off the television, already annoyed by the Sunday morning crew newscast, and started getting myself dressed and my stuff together. Four notebooks, some print outs of articles and Other People's Poetry …
How Do You Want To Be Paid
I stood on the train platform feeling desperately sad, anxious and lonesome. It was nearing 10pm and from where I stood, it would be a full 90 minute commute back to my door thanks to getting to my last connecting bus stop five minutes early. I'd felt like I wasted my time and evening. In …
The Spook By The Door (Who Wouldn’t Sit Still)
If you use a Yoruba chant to open a public event, welcoming the ancestors to join and be welcome in the proceedings, how do you close the ceremony and tell the ancestors, spirits-- thanks for coming! shows over now, yawl can go back to the far reaches of heaven or wherever... I ask because a …
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The Best Hamburger I’ve Ever Had In My Life
The only time this week I could do it was last night. So after work I jumped on MUNI and rode out to Bayview Hunters Point. I felt sleepy; an unusual feeling this time of day, but since the new year I've been out every other night or so. Last week I did two poetry …
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We (don’t) Need To Talk About Kevin
By mid-day Sunday, Taqueria San Jose was packed. The gorgeous restaurant feels air lifted from Mexico and is bigger than you're currently imagining, with an outdoor fountain on the rarely used and kind of small brick patio. I ordered lunch and armed myself with chips and salsa. As I hit the door to leave, right …
The Dirty Rat 