Part of drafting a poem is reading it aloud. Until its been read, it remains unfinished. * Midway through reading a poem I liked, I realized it was too long. I felt different about it as it was coming out of my mouth. Wrong room perhaps? Different kind of listeners? This morning I took that …
Gorgeous Ceremonies
I feared I would be late to the lounge for the 7pm reading, but as usual I was compulsively early. I sat at the end of the bar, not recognizing the friendly couple next to me until they spoke, we all but arriving together, and me knowing them from a reading in my neighborhood a …
Museum Piece
Months before it opened, I was asked to participate in a poetry reading as part of a museum exhibit. When I finally went to the gallery, Generation to Generation at the Contemporary Jewish Museum, it was as reporter with a notebook slipped in my pocket. It wasn't until walking through the gallery and being present …
First Poetry Reading of The New Year
The Lyft driver pulled up and I jumped into the more inviting front seat for a change, asking first if he minded. He didn't. A vibrant youngster in a backwards baseball cap, his car smelling like chocolate cookies vaped, not baked. He immediately asked where I was going-- to a poetry reading at a bookstore …
My Name is James… I Am A Poet
How many years ago was it when my friend told me: You know, poetry readings are like AA Meetings... Turns out he found as much value in one as the other. The two rooms were companions and shook hands in his mind. I am not a member of The Program, but I attended one with …
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 …
This Is About Time
At the last minute, she sent me a text cancelling her previously offered ride to the gallery. But I was still able to get a timely bus and train to Berkeley. Too timely, in fact. I arrived exactly on time and didn't want to be exactly on time. These readings NEVER start on time. And …
Who Gave You Permission
The reading finished before 9:30. I left the bookstore and crossed the street. At the bus stop on the bench was a woman, whom I know, who bought a book off me but an hour before, whose house I've visited, and whose name I could not recall. Even now, thinking of that night last week, …
The Reading I Went To Last Night
was staged at a hotel near Lake Merritt. I was not featured but was still motivated to leave the house since two of the features were people I knew and liked. The bus let me off a few blocks away and I happily strolled through a tree-lined neighborhood I always liked with its dense collection …
(Public) Apology or ‘…The Heart Has Got To Open In A Fundamental Way’
My heart felt like a closed fist urgently knocking against my sternum. That's not a metaphor or bad opening line; its a description. My chest felt knotted and angry. I was angry. There's a plethora of reasons why. But I'm writing this because of the moment I felt it stop and open. Earlier this week …
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The Dirty Rat 