writing, writing, writing

i attended a poetry read by Jessica Care-Moore who is like a young Sonja Sanchez and I fell in love with her work. Her words are real and beautiful and she weeded and watered some things that have been resting in a quiet corner of my heart for a while.  I pray after tonight that they blossom.

She spoke of many things, de-segregated education, a woman’s right to choose, politics of being black anywhere, racism, chasing dreams and personal leaps of faith, aka making a living as a poet. Of course these last two subject are the drum beat in my head. As I drove away i was thinking, i could go home immediately and just write, and write and write and write for 3 or 4 days.

then i think about how much ACT work wouldn’t get done and I pack that crazy notion and send her off to bed. but what if, just for a moment, i stayed in the moment and actually planned how to do this…

anyway, Ms. Moore  spoke of her personal leap of faith that landed her in Detroit, Michigan after her husband went cookoo for cocoa puffs and she didn’t want her young son around that . She picked as residence an overpriced luxury apartment for 6 months rather than stay with her family. Hum, family well, well, well. Nursing the bruised and battered diva i imagine.

then she came to herself and settled in another neighborhood, and got down to the business of writing and publishing. Yes, this sistah is a publisher too, having published 9 (?) different books. so then i’m thinking, what if i go home, take the phone off the hook, close the blinds, get in my most comfortable room and comfortable clothes and comfortable shoes, and go to town with writing, writing, writing.

funny even as i type the word “writing” i like the feel of it at the tips of my fingers. in the last 27 minutes, since i’ve been at the computer, i’ve removed my shoes and my bra. what’s next?

Then on the way home i began to cry because i realized that the reason i cannot be with my best friend is because she thinks what i do is a joke; and that hurts real, real bad, way down deep.

but i’m glad i have this blog and my journal so i can write about this stuff, else i would go crazy. and i’m glad i’ve given myself leave from conventional typographical rules like capitalizing the first word in a new sentence or always using correct punctuation or capitalizing proper nouns. after all, who deemed them “proper” in the first place? anyway, here’s my submission for April 15, 2010:

i mean no disrespect, Mr. Evans
i do not intend to dis you
here in front of your peers
people who worship the
ground you spit upon
willing to wipe the throne
you shit upon
3 minutes ago
but my poems have worth
and value too
they may not be black art poems
no, they’re more like
just-found-out-i-am-black poems
how-come-no-body-loves-me poems
courage-for-one-more-day poems
hold-fast-to-your-dreams poems

and you need to look me in the
eye of my storm ’cause
if it’s calm in the middle there’s
a fury outside
a hurricane of words and expressions
moving east south east
at about 85 miles an hour

you need to stop and listen
to what i have to say
so my i can be capitalized
like everyone elses
i’m afraid it has become about
you and who you are, Mr. Evans
you have outgrown your
britches, as Lovie Jane would say
if she were here
if only she were here
if only
she were here
a lot of the shit that’s been going on
would come to a grinding halt
and she would say to all of you
this here’s my granddaughter
listen to her voice
what she got to say is gonna
save your
life

P.S. As for capitalizing proper nouns, spellcheck found every single one of them!

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