I have several upcoming events I am hosting or featuring in the next few months. Join me for one or more!
Monday, January 9th from 7-9:30 pm at Fox Coffee House 437 W. Willow St. in Long Beach RSVP on Facebook
Friday, January 13th from 6-9 pm at MADE by Millworks 240 Pine Ave. in Long Beach RSVP on Facebook
Saturday, January 28th from 2-5 pm at MADE by Millworks 240 Pine Ave. in Long Beach RSVP on Facebook
Friday, February 3rd from 7-9 pm at Half-Off Books 6708 Greenleaf Ave in Whittier RSVP on Facebook
Thursday, February 16th from 7-10 at WeLabs 235 E Broadway, Fl 8th in Long Beach RSVP on Facebook
Saturday, March 4th from 3-5 pm at Santa Catalina Branch Library 999 E Washington Blvd in Pasadena RSVP on Facebook
A little delayed on announcing this time, but I am again honored to be sharing pages in another Spectrum anthology, What’s Your Heaven? My poem written a couple years ago, “Comfort of Cars at Night”, found its home here. Poets I am thrilled to be included with are Lynn Bronstein, Don Kingfisher Campbell, Beverly Collins, Mark Fisher, Wyatt Underwood, and more! Get your own copy at Spectrum Publishing.
Here I am reading a few poems for the event I did a couple months back, Long Beach Underground. It’s less than ten minutes to play. Really, you can listen without watching too. Thanks to Sanjin Obi Malesevic for putting it together!
A poem I wrote in October 2014, “What I Mean When I Say We Can Talk Without Poetry“, is included in this lovely collection by Whiskey Fish Review. Some of my favorite poets/friends/people are included: JL Martindale, Kevin Ridgeway, Thomas R. Thomas, and Larry Raymond Duncan. Edited by Zack Nelson-Lopiccolo. You can view the whole issue online here!
Of all the things I love about Long Beach, community is my favorite. Fox Coffee House has been host to many community events, such as two weekly open mics, various special book releases, and two monthly poetry readings, 2nd Mondays Poetry Party and The Definitive Soapbox. Some poets have been gathering under the banner of Long Beach Renaissance with the goal of furthering poetry in our community. We are attacking this goal on multiple fronts, gathering leaders, exchanging hosts as features, and even having parties together! On Friday, December 16th, G. Murray Thomas and I will be featuring for The Definitive Soapbox. It starts at 7 pm with an open reading list and lots of good vibes!
Fox Coffee House 437 W. Willow St., Long Beach, CA 90806
Write about important things
things that move me
things that crush me
Write about hurricanes
the earthquakes of my soul
It’s the grit beneath
it’s the cartilage in
I am driven to expose it
to pull it out
hold it up
to the light
I am only the messenger
of all the beauty
underneath the common face
beauty in the unheard voice
I hear it
I draw the letters
to form the words
to give it name
First published in Hedgerow: A Journal of Small Poems.
A poem I wrote for my niece to welcome her into womanhood.
Because I know he is home-seeking and hungry.
Because I see the fragility of eight legs holding tight to porcelain.
Because I once needed to be scooped up from drowning
showers to sunlit window panes.Because when I was nine, I had to break into our motel room on
a Friday night after church.Because my mom forgot to pick me up, but I knew she was just
sleeping inside.Because I didn’t have a key and I was sure she’d be right back.
Because the windows were slats of louvered glass, I could pull
them apart and lay them gently on the asphalt driveway.Because I was small, could slide between three removed slats, and
land on a mattressed floor.Because I’d rather sleep alone in a tiny motel room with navy-blue
carpeted halls leading to the tenants’ communal bathroom.
Because calling my father
was not an alternative.Because I knew my mother would come home soon even after I fell
asleep under a curtain of blankets.Because I knew if I was quiet I could be safe enough.
Because I couldn’t have driven myself home from church or climbed
up the window alone.Because someone had to scoop me up to push me through it.
First published in Gutters & Alleyways: Perspective on Poverty and Struggle.
Seas of us stretch like solar
systems. On all sides
she threads charcoal death.
Space between stars is space
between islands circled in gray.
Here, even air sinks heavy
into broken-hearted eyes.
I swim from the island of highways
and high-rises to the island
of roadless hills. Neighbored only
by sea nymphs and forever sky.
Dead wind whips like anger,
like sunrise, like avalanche.
If you stand at her edge, you must stare
right into her eyes and clench your fists.
Stand at the highest point turning
from the sea of gray to the sea of green
to the sea of gray to the sea of green
to the sea of
the universe of stars.
First published in San Pedro River Review