Back from the road & a special place in NM

Let's put it this way: On the long drive home from Ft. Worth to Flagstaff, I spent the night in a little place that likes to call itself LOGAN, NEW MEXICO. Let's get it straight: my fancy pants atlas said it was right off the freeway about 20 miles, and I couldn't let myself miss the opportunity for rockin' Logan paraphernalia and signage, such as:

The Logan Gun Club The Logan Senior Center Logan Liquors & Smokes Logan Association for Associated Buggery

Alright, so only the first two really existed. But I went into the quaintest antique shop on the quarter-mile strip, YESTERDAY'S TREASURE (big shout out to Martha, holla!) looking for Logan postcards. Martha, Owner-and-Operator, let me know that unfortunately there were NO LOGAN POSTCARDS. "Wait," she said, "I might have something..." We walk to the back of the store. "Oh no, I thought this cane said 'Logan' on it, but looks like it only says 'Ute Lake'." Lady, I didn't want no cane anyway. I let her know that the entire town was missing out on a unique tourist opportunity (Logans), bought a 6 pack of Corona, drank them alone and backfloated in aforementioned Ute Lake.

There has been a lot going on, but not much of it has made it to the website. I'll start posting more soon.

Thanks to all you crazy kids who made tour a knock-down, drag-out affair, les agradezco mucho. No names needed, you know who you are, now come to Flagtown and let me return the favor...

Apuntes de la ruta / notes from the road

Check out this post for some stories of pavement... click

I'll be updating with some dispatches from the road as comments on this post. Feel free to respond, homeslice.

June tour!

Borderstates, here I come. Complete with a second printing of Sun Said Shine, two new t-shirts, the 2005 NORAZ Grand Slam DVD, stickers, and endless verbos mal importados.

Sat. 5/28 Arcosanti Arizona State Spoken Word Festival

Wed. 6/1 Santa Fe Gary Mex Glazner's Radio program

Thurs. 6/2 Albuquerque 7pm

RB Winnings' Coffee Co. 211 Harvard SE

Sat. 6/4 Albuquerque Featured poet @ A Collage of Verse Sign-up @ 7 pm, Show @ 7:30pm

Annapurna Chai House 2201 Silver SE (Corner of Silver and Yale in the University area)

Sun. 6/5 El Paso / Ciudad Juarez? looking for a show... or street corner...

Mon. 6/6 Corpus Christi Featured poet & host of the Corpus Christi Grand Slam @ the Ballabajoomba Slam sign up at 7:30 p.m

Cassidy's Irish Pub 601 N. Water St. Corpus Christi, TX 78401 (361) 879-0534

Tues. 6/7 San Antonio Featured poet @ Puro Slam 10:30opm

Sam's Burger Joint 330 E. Grayson @ Broadway

Wed. 6/8 Austin Double feature with Jason Carney @ the Austin Poetry Slam Sign-up at 7:30 pm, slam at 8 pm.

Ego's Bar 510 South Congress Ave Austin, TX. 78704-1716 (512) 474-7091 Hosted by Mike Henry and Genevieve Van Cleve

Thurs. 6/9 Ft. Worth Featured poet @ the Ft. Worth Poetry Slam 8:30-10:30 pm

Black Dog Tavern 903 Throckmorton Street Fort Worth Hosted by Anthony Douglas and Michael Guinn

Fri. 6/10 Dallas Featured poet @ the Dallas Poety Slam 8:30 PM - 10:30 PM Hosted by Rock Baby and Militant X

Club Clearview 2803 Main Street in Deep Ellum Dallas, Texas 214.939.0077 $3.00 donation.

Sun. 6/12 Dallas NEW DATE ADDED! A show in north Dallas, more info to come...

Somos uno; we are one

The unthinkable becomes routine: thirty hours spent in the car this month in-between frontera / flagstaff. This time, the group is small and seasoned: Jewelynx Disasterpants and Esprring, blearry streaking there and back.

No sign of the Minutemen. The valley is much calmer, free of lawnchair commandos but still Green Streaking migra stripes on every other car. Every other car a portable prison. It’s the 30th of April. The octatillo are burning on the ends, someone spraypainted “NO ONE IS ILLEGAL” over a “closed borders” sign.

We are here to celebrate the end of April in all its connotations y la mañana llena de esperanzas.

But remember the wise words of Ahnold. The borders should be “sealed.” Wait no, chaulk that one up to “bad english,” he says. Sure, since he was also talking about the Minutemen doing a “terrific job.” More bad english. That article made the front page of the hometown Herald. Listen to this.

Naco Highway is a runway. It’s 2:30pm and there are 15 of us, 2:45 and there are 30, the statute of liberty is wearing a long dress, gray hair and yelling “vamos” from the revolving port-of-entry. We wait, the sun growing impatient with the back of our necks. Someone makes a comment about pachouli oil being aged 30 years in mesquite barrels. The songs start, the last parking lot on Amurican soil has a sign that reads “GAY 90s PARKING ONLY.” Esprring asks what it’s talking about. We turn around and “GAY 90s” is written in flowing script on the plaster of the building next to us. Later some children would be shouting “SOMOS UNO; WE ARE ONE” from a concrete stage.

It’s three. Ray and the ACLU volunteers ride in, the anti-calvery clad in bright yellow shirts and their own burnt skin. I’m passing out white crosses with names written across their arms. “DESCONOCIDA, 2003” Las Boinas Cafés de Aztlán, brown fists and los tres colores stoic in sway. Someone is yelling that we’ve agreed not to record the border crossing for Homeland Security Reasons™. Univision is recording our footsteps from a foot off the ground.

There’s a discussion of Liberation Theology™ going on somewhere behind me. They open a heavy automatic gate to let our procession through. The border wall here is painted in 10 foot tall children with names like “Francisco” and “Mike,” it looks like they were painted by 4 foot tall artists and have faded. Maybe in the last month.

They’re playing songs up front. Father Carney walks with us. Later he’ll remind me that it’s up to the youth from here on out.

Plaza Juárez is pólvera and european band stand, PA and piñatas. It takes so long for all of us to arrive, we’re a millipede shuffling our million feet.

The organizers hectic and smiling, MC and band and berets.

Celeste and I are next on the mic. We’re opening with her poem “The Border Line” that she first performed at the Binational Poetry Reading a few weeks back. I read it in English, she in Spanish with fuego. Lenguas y llamas. I asked for her permission to put my recording of “The Border Line” for all to see. She said yes. The sun has again sunk to look us in the eyes. I’m reading “La Viejita,” catching sight of M.E.Ch.A de NAU halfway through, we can’t stop now. They are cheering, I almost can’t finish.

The kids steal the show anyway. Kat from Derechos Humanos wrote a small obra de teatro, it’s great. “SOMOS UNO; WE ARE ONE.” Gritando in all kinds of throats.

Later, they’re breaking open piñatas with sheer excitement. The piñatas are giant M&M’s. Get it? Mm?

April ends at sundown and we begin to write the lines of the next chapter at dawn.

Five hours to Flagstaff.

Team NORAZ 2005 to make plans.

Why not turn the net the other way: The binational volleyball game

This time I'm stumbling at 6:15am, Suzy has a date with Sky Harbor airport at 10:00, Nick has one shortly after that. The airport gets around. I sleep in the back of the truck as Suzy throws it down the mountain toward Phoenix, the truck is still full of dust from yesterday's back roads, the campershell is leaking with today's storm. Red mud is seeping into the blankets. I sleep like someone forgotten. Then were there. Airports are chaos factories, I'm all bad breath and slam hangover, Suz is saying goodbye, I'm forgetting what I mean to say. She's gone into the teeming strangers. Bye Suz. See you soon.

Then Nick is driving, the Niflers are insisting that I wake up more quickly, Liz is laughing from the back seat and offering no help whatsoever. Nick is talking shit about Tempe, not stopping until we pull into some almost anonymous Mexican joint for breakfast. Vegetarian options? Beans. Liz and I opt to go to the natural café. Nick wishes he did.

Then another goodbye, one that will last even longer. Nick is off to Francia to fish with old men and lead the Nifler invasion of France. I refuse to explain.

It rained last night. Southern Arizona and Northern Mexico were all slick looking and gazing at each other with shy eyes, as if they were about to go to some Spanglish prom. All barbwire and high heels.

"I want to stop and talk to some Minutemen," I tell Liz just before it's too late. We stop at a lawnchair-commando post off of 92.

He looks like you'd expect, binoculars and sunflower seed-spittle. He is from Oregon. Came down for a few days to "help out." Is looking for men in the hills. Hasn't seen any. Knows all of the soundbytes by heart. He asks what I think. "I'm from Sierra Vista," I tell him, almost from my heart, "it's pretty interesting watching all of you show up all of a sudden where I grew up.

"Do illegals walk near your house?"

"Yeah."

"Ever have any problems with them?"

"No."

"Huh. Hey, the ACLU camp is set up just over there if ya wanna go and talk to them."

"Thanks" I don't know what else to add. Take care? No, not exactly. Have a good day? He seems like the kind of person that has good days at the expense of others.

We walk back down the highway, over a arroyo being diligently watched by a California flag. The ACLU camp is a white car with about 4 people sitting on the trunk or in chairs near the trunk. More interesting is the interview being conducted just a few feet away by a group of three men and a tape recorder. They're interviewing a man sitting in a camouflage military-style jeep, he's replete with aviator glasses and full gear. As I walk up he is saying "I'm a first generation, tu sabe..." The elusive chicano Minuteman... I wish I had heard more.

The journalist conducting the interview is Enrique Morones Careaga, of the San Diego-based organization Ángeles de la Frontera, which he describes as "the exact opposite of the Minutemen, we put water in the desert to keep migrants from dying." With him are two men from Tijuana, who I begin to speak to as the jeep roars off and Enrique moves to talk to the ACLU volunteers.

Turns out this is noneother than Ray Ybarra, whose appeal for volunteers I quoted in my first Minuteman post. It's great to meet him, and he is more articulate in speaking of the project than I am. He mentions that the real danger is Minuteman volunteers trying to "out-chingon each other." Well said. I really hope he will be writing about his experiences after his time on the border.

Turns out that Enrique is headed to the volleyball game as well, he asks for directions and I offer to have him follow us.

Cumbia down the highway, déjà vu pulling onto dirt roads. "VOLLEYBALL->" the sign says, in the rearview I notice it's scrawled on the back of an old "VOTE NO PROP 200" sign. Right on.

We all pile in a shuttle and run down the border road to where the wall drops away. There's a giant news truck from KVOA Channel 4, the NBC affiliate out of Tucson. It takes up most of the road and seems to be an issue for the organizers.

They've turned the net the other way.

We were all expecting the net to be parallel with the border line, but turns out each team is half-n-half. We all agree that it was a great idea.

I'm out of the car, smiling, there are so many more people here than the poetry reading, especially Mexicans. Familiar smiling faces: Rocío, Isabel, Paul, Emilie, Kat, Chris, etc. etc. The game is going full-tilt and they start setting up a second net to deal with the crowd.

The greatest thing to see is all of the conversations happening across the line and the children climbing all over the metal border, laughing.

Thanks to Liz for the photos and coming along in the first place. 11 hours in the car...

The volleyball game has received much more attention than the previous events, and I'm told that there were over 300 people at last weekend's "Lifting up the Border," the binational / bilingual mass.

• The April 26 cover story of the local paper, the Sierra Vista Herald.
• April 25 story by the Arizona Republic.

The last "April Unity Event" is this Saturday, April 30. It is a unity march and party in Naco at 2:30pm. If you would like to come with me, please let me know. I will be leaving Friday afternoon and returning to Flagstaff by Noon on Sunday. You'll have a place to stay, all I ask is help with the gas money.

Hello Team NORAZ 2005!

The 2005 NORAZ Poetry Grand Slam was a complete blast. The winners:

1. Christopher Lane
2. Logan Phillips
3. Christopher Fox Graham
4. Meghan Jones
5. Aaron Johnson

Meghan narrowly beat out Aaron for the last spot in a dramatic slam-off. I'm really glad there is a woman on the team this year and Aaron is going to be a great alternate with tons of poems memorized. I really can't wait to see how this all begins to shape up.

Now I have 12 hours of footage that I get to edit down into the 2005 DVD. I'll be reliving that night for the next few months...

Beyond Page vs. Stage: Slam Poetry as an Accessible Form

Ever heard the phrase "slam poetry isn't real poetry?"

Come explore that idea for yourself at a presentation given this Friday, April 22nd at 4:30pm at NAU's DuBois ballroom in Flagstaff. Local poet and NORAZ Poets advisory board member Logan Phillips will present slam poetry as a poetry form, as valid as the more well-known forms of sestinas, villanelles or haiku. Following the lecture, there will be a small panel discussion which will include Prescott poet and advisory board member Daniel H. Seaman.

Part of the 9th Annual Conference at the Peaks, presented by the Organization of Graduate Students of English, the presentation follows this year's theme of "The River of Words: Exploring Fluidity and Dynamism in Literature and Language." Hardly anything is as dynamic as slam poetry, a young form that has exploded across the nation over the last 20 years. So come out and explore the ideas surrounding poetry forms.

NORAZ Poets is a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization which promotes poetry and poetry events in NORthern AriZona. More information: http://www.norazpoets.org

Presentation Abstract: Since it’s inception in the mid-1980’s, the competitive art of Poetry Slam has only continued to gain popularity, media exposure and momentum. This year, the fifteenth annual National Poetry Slam will be held just four hours from Flagstaff in Albuquerque, NM. This offers a unique opportunity for our thriving literary community to reflect on the influence and discourse of slam poetry here in Northern Arizona.

Our brief presentation, followed by a small panel discussion, will seek to debunk the “stage vs. page” myth by exploring the characteristics of slam poetry not as the opposite of “page poetry,” but rather as another poetry form. Equally as valid of a form as a sestina or sonnet, slam poetry draws on a long tradition of oral expression and is marked by specific characteristics which define it clearly. These characteristics include distinct uses of repetition, length, subject matter, and yes, even meter. Equally informed by hip-hop, popular culture, stand-up comedy, forensics and “traditional” poetry, slam is very visible and accessible, often acting as an entry point into the literary arts for those who may not have been exposed to them otherwise. This initial exposure often leads to further involvement in the literary community, as we will show using examples from our own area.

Far from being mutually exclusive, slam poetry and the more traditional literary arts stand to gain much from each other. Nowhere in poetry are popular culture and our society so clearly reflected, defined and critiqued as within slam. One could liken the young form to a flash flood entering the wider river of words, adding not only new audience and power, but also seeking to define itself and find its place within the flow of the literary arts.

It's on

THE 2005 NORAZ POETRY GRAND SLAMIt's the biggest event of all year! buy tickets!

Hosted by and featuring the founder of the Flagstaff poetry slam, Nick Fox!

dirtyverbs on the airwaves

I'll be on the University's KJACK radio this Tuesday from 7pm-8pm, MST talking up the Grand Slam and probably doing a poem or two. Tune in via streaming mp3 or streaming window media player. This will be the second radio program I've been on in the last two weeks, last week Emilie Vardaman featured my poem "La Viejita de Sonora" on KBRP, 96.1 LP FM Bisbee during her borderlands poetry show. She explains the "LP" stands for "low power," meaning the broadcast just reaches Old Bisbee, they're hoping to boost power to cover Warren soon.

The wind and the words: the Binational Poetry Reading

There were six of us packed the truck, three more in another car we picked up in Phoenix. Ever south, blasting cumbias through the gridlock, flying without flaw. Leaving Tucson always begins to make me think of home, the rolling hills that can't decide if the desert has ended or not, endless arroyos and a sky that dwarfs the earth. It was three in the afternoon when the Huachucas came over the horizon. They're where I grew up, those mountains, a country on both sides. Spring was laughing at how excited I was, and it's true, I've never returned home with such a sense of bringing something with me.

We stopped at la casa del sol long enough for my parents to start telling stories, then it was back to cars with the phrase of the viaje, vamanos pues. The border reading was on the west outskirts of Naco, about half an hour east on highway 92 from the house. The highway runs parallel to the border, somebody said "So you're telling me that those mountains are in the US," pointing to the Huachucas, "and those are in Mexico?" Eso es.

They're clinging to the arroyos with lawn chairs and potbellies. 92's route makes it the logical place for the Minutemen to perch, every time an arroyo comes carving down the mountain and across the highway, there they are, all walkie-talkies and sunburns. This can be said right now: the Minuteman Project is blown out of all proportion. Consider: 1000 were to show up, less that 150 actually did. Yes, it is still a dangerous and ridiculous situation to have them armed in a land that they don't understand, but small tailgate parties of SUV's and sunglasses doesn't impress me.

Every other car has a green stripe down the side: the Border Patrol's budget is all around us and obvious.

We finally turn south again onto Naco Highway, coming down onto the tiny town while flying by signs on both sides of the pavement:

"[Presidente] Fox's WMD's: illegals and drugs."

Others too, that I let fly in one eye and out the other. Naco itself is half ghost town. Once thriving, the militarization of the last few decades has left it with a 12' rusted wall cutting down its middle. Each side suffers for the want of its twin. The afternoon sun pushes through broken windows.

Then, a few turns, past the last golf course of Amuurica, then, de repente, por fin llegamos: a small sign reading "POETRY -->," pot holes, curves and a crowd.

The Wind. It is arguing with the earth in a constant 40 MPH gust, sin parrar. I open the car door, the wind swings it wide and sucks me out into the whipping afternoon. I forget my jacket, along with almost everything I meant to remember. I can't wait any longer, it's there: rusted and huge, patched and ugly, just as I remember it. We're moving along the wall, 30 or so of us in loose groups, walking past the cameraman from Univision and down the wide white road made of dust. The reading itself is about a mile down, they're telling us. We're walking into the low sun, into the stubborn wind. It's surreal, we look at each other, head shaking, laughing, moving off the road to let BP cruisers pass.

A dreadlocked man offers up the bed of his pickup truck, it strains under our tenfold weight. We're all here, many of my best friends, mi novia, my sister, my mom.

The wall drops down after a mile to only a steel girder about 2' off the sand. Here's where it is: a few cars, a bigger crowd, a man in a purple tie-dye shirt hooking up a PA to two car batteries. I'm smiling into the wind, there are people of every stripe: the Bisbee hippies, the Brown Berets, students from all over, a sunburned crowd wearing white shirts that read "ACLU LEGAL OBSERVER," gente de todas partes. My mom and sister huddle against the wall as more and more continue to arrive.

It's about 70 people as the cowboy MC calls the first poet, but still not a soul on the Mexican side. A few people are blaming the wind, but eventually a few do show up, so do los federales in two trucks. They keep their distance and scowl some, hats low over their eyes. The wind is vicious.

I feel like meeting every person standing there, and I mostly do: Isabel from Derechos Humanos, Rocío from Chihuahua, a million others, each involved in a their own project: a radio show, studies, protests, change and optimism.

Then my name is called, my crew makes some noise, I'm up there trying to convey how far we've come and how worthwhile the trip has already been. I perform "La Viejita de Sonora," which is probably my favorite border poem of the moment. I keep having to grab the mic to keep it from falling over in the wind. Like always, it's a blur. Looking at the crowd, about a third have some kind of camera in front of them. I think Tabor describes it best when he says it's like looking out at a Sony catalog. But there I am, screaming

I choose people, I choose the wind, I choose the beginning not the end.

I believe in the songs she sings, I believe that words are wings, people have always moved and borders will be removed.

I chose people...

As that very wind is tearing at me and around me, causing the wall to shudder and eyes to squint. My eyes are either watering or crying, I fall into a crowd that's hugs, handshakes, smiles, video release forms. Univision asks to interview me, I say something like "Ahorita vengo de Flagstaff, pero yo soy de aquí, crecí por las afueras de Sierra Vista. Está es mi lucha, está es mi tierra. Estamos aquí para declarar que el pueblo de la frontera es un pueblo unido y no estamos de acuerdo con los vigilantes que han llegado de otras partes tratando de dividirnos. Aquí no somos racistas." Then the reporter, who is short a cameraman, has me hold the camera as he does an intro for his piece.

My best friend, Biskit reads and has the crowd in stitches, I'm in the back shouting his refrain with him into the wind.

There is a film crew there from Russia, they talk to me briefly but seem to be too terrorized by the wind.

I'm called back up to read again. Derechos Humanos has brought a milk crate full of white crosses with names and dates of inmigrantes who have died in this area, it's sitting to the side next to the car batteries. I ask the crowd to give me a second. "This is for them," I say, placing it in front of the mic, "este poema es para ellos." I read ¿Sin Voz?.

I remember when I was younger bringing home Adam Sandler comedies to my parents. When I had watched them with my friends, they were hilarious. When I watched them with them with my parents, every off-color joke and cuss was suddenly painfully evident. It was a completely different movie.

In a way, it is like that reading ¿Sin Voz? down there. I am literally standing with the wall on my right and the Huachucas on my left, the US in front and México over my shoulder. I believe that every work of art has its time and place. It may always be good, but there is a moment where it is at its most poignant. It was that for ¿Sin Voz?

...And it's not that they're voiceless, no me digas esa piche mentira otra vez, it's that sometimes numbers speak louder than verbs. 60% of all eight million illegal Mexican immigrants living in the United States crossed through our state of Arizona.

150 dead in 2003, over 200 dead in 2004, 14 dead in a single December day 2003, the average Mexican makes $4,000 a year. How much did Jim Gilchrist make last year?...

There were so many moments. A 70-year-old woman holding up a young girl's sweater she had found in the desert and reading a poem imagining the girl's crossing as if she were her granddaughter. A young student reading pure passion from the Mexican side, her voice breaking and beautiful. People hopping back and forth over the girder border, laughing.

I am so thankful for all of the people who put this reading together, it was the most powerful event I have ever read at. Thanks to all who came. Les agradezco tanto... NOS VEMOS.

Special thanks to Tabor for the photos.

Watch video of the reading.

A call for words & passion at the border

When we militarize our borders, we militarize our imaginations.

This is a call for writers, for thinkers, for raza, for gringotes, for all of us. This Saturday, April 9, there will be a Binational Poetry Reading Across the Wall just outside of Naco. I believe that border issues along with water are the two most critical sets of issues in this half of the United States, and this is the front lines. I'm leading a caravan from Flagstaff, Arizona all the way to the wall, filled with voces and passion unparalleled. Join us.

...no one is ever expected to notice. The border is a breath caged in steel, created with the movement of a pen, drunk, violent across parchment, never mind that it was almost illegal, this line drawn across footprints...

News Release

For Immediate Release March 29, 2005 Contacts: Bisbee: Angelika Johnson: ***.***.**** Tucson: Kat Rodriguez, Derechos Humanos: ***.****.**** COMMUNITY GROUPS JOIN TOGETHER FOR APRIL UNITY EVENTS

(Arizona-Sonora)—Community groups have joined together in an effort to promote unity and peace on the border for the month of April in response to an increased anti-immigrant sentiment and presence in border communities. In particular the Minuteman Project, which promises to bring hundreds of outsiders, who know nothing about the region, into Arizona border communities, presents a disturbing development, especially for migrants and local residents.

The April Unity Events are a collaborative effort of Borderlinks, Citizens for Border Solutions, Coalición de Derechos Humanos/Alianza Indígena Sin Fronteras, Healing Our Borders, No More Deaths, Women in Black – Bisbee, and Frontera de Cristo, and will consist of a month of binational, nonviolent community activities.

These events include: April 2, 1pm: Women in Black Vigil in Naco, Arizona April 9, 4pm: Binational Poetry Reading Across the Wall at the Naco/Naco border April 17, 5pm: Interfaith Vigil Service at the Naco/Naco border April 24, 4pm: Volleyball Over the border at the Naco/Naco border April 30, 3pm: Unity Celebration to be held in Naco, Sonora

“Community members wish to promote the message that the majority of Arizonans are committed to a peaceful and unified border community,” states Father Bob Carney of Healing Our Borders. “We have joined together to work for justice along the U.S.-México border.”

The activities, which are interfaith and open to the public, are intended to celebrate the diversity and solidarity of those who live on the border. The April Unity Events, which will include participation from the Sonora side of the border, are open to any individual or group that is committed to nonviolence, peace, and just border policies. Complete logistics, details, directions, and sponsors of the events are available at: http://www.derechoshumanosaz.net/aprilunity2005.htm.

Many thanks to Liz for finding this press release and giving me a lesson in Googology.

Words at the wall!?

The Minuteman Project offically kicked off on Friday in Tombstone. It's ironic and sad that this is what my home is receiving international recognition for. "Southern Arizona? Oh, ain't that where the vigilantes were on the border a few years ago?" We'll see about that:

From the Sierra Vista Herald, 26 March 2005 in an article titled "Locals plan to counter minutemen," describing the anti-Minutemen activities planned:

Angelica Johnson said residents in response to the project will have a vigil at the border, a poetry reading at the wall on borth sides of the border, a volleyball game in Naco, Sonora, an interfaith vigil and a fiesta. (italics mine)

So now it's on. The article proclaims that Naco, AZ and Naco, Sonora residents have declared this April "a month of unity," but it doesn't mention where or when these events are to be held.

Tengo que ir y traer mis palabras a esta lucha mía. I must find out when this is. So far I've been working frantically to find Angelica Johnson's email address or better, her phone number. From searching around a bit, the newspaper may have gotten the spelling wrong on her name, it may be Angelika Johnson. If anyone has any information, por favor dime.

I will drop anything, everything to read at this event. And I'm bringing y'all with me. Andale pues.

A semifinal fuego

Así ando ya.

The final scores of the semi-final, finally semitasticallitious:
Semi-Final Champion: Logan Phillips, #7 seed, 88.4
2nd: Sharkie Marado, #12 seed, 85.0
3rd: Aaron Johnson, #1 seed, 84.2
4th: Al Moyer, #3 seed, 82.0
5th: Ryan Guide, #14 seed, 80.1

6th: Kimmy Wilgus, #16 seed, 79.5
7th: Justin Powell, #8 seed, 79.4
8th: Sarah Knurr, #19 seed, 73.4
David Rogers "Doc" Luben, #9 seed, was unfortunately unable to attend the slam and will not compete this year for the Team NORAZ.
From the NORAZ Poets Grand Slam page

Saturday, April 23rd. The 2005 NORAZ Poetry Grand Slam. Be there.

Giving the Check to NACASA

So it's been almost a month since the Siren Slam, the FlagSlam's celebration of women's voice in poetry. It was hosted by Suzy La Follette and Andrea Gibson as part of their Siren's Iris tour and was a huge success: over 15 women from all over NORAZ threw down to a crowd that was the biggest we've seen all spring. Check out the audio that I recorded to hear what I mean. All of the proceeds, plus donations made during the slam were to be given to NACASA, the Northern Arizona Center Against Sexual Assault. When we decided on the NACASA donation idea, I really didn't know as much about them as I thought they did. Actually, I still didn't until today. Today I gave the check for $288.10 from NORAZ Poets to Nancy Hiatt, the executive director of NACASA.

It was absolutely one of the most positive things that poetry has ever allowed me to do. Nancy's eyes lit up, her hand found her mouth, "I really didn't think it would be this much," she said, "we were expecting around $100." I told her the story of the night, how the donation jar came back with $80, filled with 5's and 10's, how Suzy decided on the spot that the Siren Slam would be a yearly event, the explosive crowd, the laughter. Then she stopped me, as we were joined by Sara Thome, who is the SART Advocate/Coordinator.

"I don't want you or anyone else to think that this is a small amount of money," Sara said. "$288.10 pays for half of the training we give to a nurse so that they can work here. $288.10 helps us pay our staff." She went on to say that the money would go toward a prophylactic given to women when they come in after an assault to help prevent the transmission of STD's.

This was, and is the real thing. There I was, handing the money to the people that fight for the things so many of us believe in. We have quite literally put our money where our collective mouth is.

Sara and Nancy also spoke of how much they loved the Siren Slam poster, so much so that one of their copies was currently being framed to hang in the front room. They were both still disappointed that they hadn't been able to make it to the slam, there had been an important board meeting that night. They wanted to make up for it by coming to next month's Grand Slam, where they'll have a table with literature and information.

I tell this story in thanks to everyone in our community who made the Siren Slam so incredible. Sure, I went to NACASA today, but it was all of us who handed that check to Nancy.

Thank you.

Semifinals: April 1, Echale Leña

So word just came down on the 2005 NORAZ Semifinals: I'll be slamming in Sedona at the Canyon Moon Theatre a week from tomorrow: Friday, April 1st. This is going to be an absolute blast. Hearts will be broken, that's for sure, but nothing is for certain, which makes all of this so much fun. Get your tickets early, they'll sell out by early next week. Oh, and the one and only Danny Solis from Albuquerque will be the featured poet. He's one of my favorites, I've learned a lot from him. So come to Sedona! The full list:

April 1, at the Canyon Moon Theatre in Sedona o Sharkie Marado o Al Moyer o Sarah Knurr o Aaron Johnson o Kimmy Wilgus o Ryan Guide o Justin Powell o Logan Phillips o Doc Luben

April 12, at Studio One Eleven in Flagstaff o Greg Nix o Christopher Lane o Patrick DuHaine o Eric Larson o Christopher Fox Graham o Rowie Shebala o Lindsay Chamberlain o Meghan Jones

Last FlagSlam of the Regular Season!

After this, it's the semifinals on April 12th, but this is the last open slam.

Also, if you're gonna be in Tempe this Friday night, I'm featuring at Green Eggs & Slam. New poems!

Oh, and did I mention how absolutely hawt this kdog poster is? Yet again?

Running with Ove & el poema japones

So this week has been insane in a land of insanity. My man Oveous Maximus from NYC arrived in the PHX at 12:45 Monday morning, I picked him up & we drove to Sedona. I again spent all of Monday in Sedona Red Rock High School, teaching with Christopher Lane as part of NORAZ Poet's Young Voices, Be Heard program. The lesson of the week was haiku. Now let's get this straight. I have never come across a haiku written in Spanish, and after talking it up with some Lit professors I know, it doesn't sound like it's very common. So I say it's never been done, which means that the Spanish-speaking students of SRRH wrote some of the first Spanish haiku ever. Yes indeed. These kids rock. Un poema japones, viene de un juego que jugaba los poetas japoneses hace tres siglos. Está caraterizido por ser corto, como un pedazo de la vida, usualmente se trata de la naturaleza. Imaginense una foto poetico... no se puede incluir todo ¿no? Por eso, eligimos una imagen y la presentamos en menos de diez palabras...

Then the FlagSlam Tuesday night, Ove rocked the house and I got it all recorded crystal clear. Look for it soon on a compliation of the 2004-05 FlagSlam features... We performed on Wednesday at NAU as part of the University Hunger Project, another cool, if very different, gig. We freestyled together for the last poem of the night, there will be video of that online sometime in the future.

So that's life, remembering that the poetry is the fire in the piston... Ove discovering silence in the Grand Canyon and stars in the night sky...

Dirtyverbs2005 Goes Live!

After weeks of learning PHP, Wordpress, CSS and XHTML, it has all come together! There still isn't too much content, I'll still be importing all of the poems & media from the old site, so if something doesn't work, check back later. What do you think?

Todo nuevo: new dirtyverbs march first

The website is going to go down within the next week to allow me to finish work on the new version. Grand opening: March 1st. I wholly afirm my grip on nerd-dom by having a grand opening for a website. Yes ma'am. I think there are actually going to be giveaways. Toothpicks and thongs? Maybe. Until then, don't forget to head over to NORAZpoets to figure out when you are going to see Suzy La Follette and Andrea Gibson while their Siren's Iris tour is in the area.