Went to a reading at Rapp Saloon in Santa Monica last night. It's just around the corner from Tanner's, where I'll be reading tonight, but it's surprisingly hard to find. It's one room in a youth hostel, and the front door to the room is locked -- you have to avoid …
Went to "Mia" at Tanner's in Santa Monica last night. Fairly decent reading -- it was a mixed bag, with some earnest but really bad poetry, and some really rockin' stuff. Standout was the feature, Jelena Andjelkovic, who did a really solid 20 minutes. Nice hosts (Charlotte and Michelle) who did …
There are no great performances without great audiences. A great performance is a collaboration between the speaker and the listener. Performers should view the attention, silence, and appreciation of the audience as valuable gifts that should not be squandered.
Only perform works that you like. It doesn't have to be …
Walking down Winston St. one night, Moses with the limp and the smoker's
cough saved my ass. Started walking next to me and introduced me to this
six-four big motherfucker. Moses leaned over and whispered that the guy
was gonna jack me, and Moses escorted me, we all three walked …
From the grip of fingers on a steering wheel;
the line of a closed mouth;
the precise angle of eyelashes —
I can divine sorrow — anger — love — rage;
all the varied flavors of silence.
I have been trained in this since birth;
a disciple of a stern faith.
I can express …
I am not my scars.
Not the sum of my tears.
Not the boy I was or the man you are.
Yet years later,
ripples hit the shore
and I know this will always be part of me.
The rage dances with shame,
and the shame dances with guilt,
and …
I dance in waves of Limited Liability Companies
visions of stock options swirling in my head as I
work for frenzied hucksters
with smiling faces and fuck-you eyes.
Polished liars who think "Glengarry Glen Ross" is a comedy
and quote lines from it as often as "South Park."
Here it …
I:
Rain falls with a knife’s intensity
and unity of purpose.
I am wet.
I stand in the middle of this barren world.
This ocean of mud.
I feel the rain on my cheeks
and see it on my glasses
as I look up at the sky,
and feel …
I go to Tacos México at midnight — the one on Broadway past Ninth where the Latino gangbangers don’t have much patience for the homeless black vets who ask them for handouts and the for-rent girls from the dance-hall down the block come by after a hard night of dry …
You sat next to me on the bus
like a panther on the hunt;
licking your lips at my taste:
musty and stale like money
but it was sweet to you.
Your tastes were familiar;
but different
than the women
I had known.
Spicy with citrus tang
like the ceviché …