April is National Poetry Month! It’s been a while since I last attempted a poetry challenge. This year, I’ll be writing a poem a day. Each piece will be part of a broader series I am currently working on, called suck myself out the heart i give it back. But first: a tiny poetry book To kick off #NPM16, I’d like to introduce Epiphonia: … Continue reading It’s That Time Of Year, Again: National Poetry Month 2016
Found out my friend Ryan passed away last year. We met at the Canoga Park Art Walk a few years back…I typed him a poem, he showed me his drawings. Young guy. Potential. We stayed in touch, hanging out and talking, reflecting. The last time we talked, he told me he was focusing on recovery. Addiction uses our mind/body as a feasting ground. How to … Continue reading Typewriter Poem: “With Ink” (New Typewriter Poetry)
Often we see books as signs of civilization. I take in their tree trunk roots and inked spines and think only of the sky: (books belong in the wild) Continue reading Old Habits Die Hard: Replacing Free Poetry with Free Books
“Couple #1” is the first in a series of poems called “The Couple Series.” It was conceived when–following a breakup and other intense life stuff–I somewhat impulsively decided to fly to Hawaii and backpack through the islands. Continue reading Etsy Typewriter Poetry Poem Available for Purchase: “Couple #1”
Winter finally hits Los Angeles–
Here’s a poem from 2011 to inject some sunlight back into the sky. “Spring” was created in 2011 thanks to a Typewriter Poetry prompt. Natalie, the woman who asked for the poem, wanted something focused on Japan, lost love, new love, and nostalgia–all tied in with blossoming sakura. You can read the original post here.
Today is also my brother’s birthday–happy birthday!
Events have an allure which public spaces lack. In both instances, you are a spectacle; yet there is a distinct difference in how people react to and approach you. Public spaces offer a nonchalant curiosity, but events open people up rather immediately. Everyone’s behavior is influenced by the fantastic, not-so-everyday surroundings and atmosphere.
…plus, there’s alcohol.
The day after rendezvousing at Rittenhouse Square in Philly, I felt sluggish, weary, cold, and uninspired. It took me a large portion of the morning to tap into my unknown energy reserve, then heave my typewriter over to the Princeton’s farmers market.
Sometimes all it takes is connecting with the right person to help you chart a course away from negativity and alienation. It wasn’t until Mona heard the dings and clacks of my typewriter that my outlook was, thankfully, altered.
It starts and it ends like this. Recall the moment. Insert something mundane, play with contrast until vibrant. What is forgotten is just as important as what’s remembered—and there it is. There, among quiet Hare Krishnas who are waiting for scavengers like us to take flight with our tupperware full of free leftover vegetarian food—there we are, still firmly planted and caught up in conversation, the night a time without stars only lights a bright porch beaming down on us from the second story staircase—there is where a poetry we often name neurosis gives everything a terrifying idyllic trim and your words, a felt glow, strike me like deja vu, words grasping at the mind’s edges like kindling flame, a series of click click BOOM—
This was the year music
was revealed to me. I don’t
know if it’s possible
to live off Free Poetry.
I can’t quit LA.