7th Annual Slab City Slam

I'll be in Arizona on Memorial Day weekend! After missing last year, I'll be back at one of my favorite poetry events in the world (literally). The Arcosanti Slab City Slam! I'll be performing a BRAND NEW PERFORMANCE ART PIECE ON FRIDAY NIGHT and cohosting the slam on Saturday all day. I'll be taking a lot of risks. You'll probably see me burst into flames. We'll see if that's in a good way or a bad way. Jewelynx is convinced it will be in a good way.

Arcosanti is halfway between PHX and FLG on I-17. If you've never been there, coming is worth it just to see the place itself. More info below:

The Arizona Spoken Word Festival and Slab City Slam returns to Arcosanti for its 7th year, on May 25, 26, and 27, 2007. Slab City Slam is a performance poetry competition for bragging rights as state slam poetry champions. Ten teams of poets from across the state will compete in three fast-paced, funny, exciting, and heart-wrenching rounds that will last all day and into the night on Saturday, May 26th. This highly anticipated spoken word event offers an opportunity to see what variety Arizona’s literary performance community has to offer.

A special night of performance kicks off the festival on Friday, May 25th, at 7pm. Prescott-area poets Doc Luben and Dan Seaman will present solo spoken word performances, Flagstaff’s The Family will perform acoustic bluegrass and roots music, and Arcosanti’s Dan Kelliher will perform a late-night solo set of original songs.

Saturday, May 26th begins when the action kicks into high gear in the beautiful Colly Soleri Music Center at 10am, with the first of three rounds of slam poetry at its very best. Slam is audience-judged, high-energy, competitive performance poetry. Ten teams from throughout Arizona square off for an uncensored, no-holds barred competitive poetry extravaganza. Phoenix-based improv comedy group Galapagos will perform between poetry rounds throughout the day. The competition is followed by a live bronze trophy pour in the Arcosanti bronze foundry, followed by a major spectacle performance by Tucson’s master fire performance troupe Flam Chen (www.flam-chen.com). Then, those who are still standing slip into the night for a bonfire after-party and informal poetry share around the fire.

Sunday, May 27th rounds out the weekend, with the low-impact Haiku Death Match and Boys v Girls Haiku Slam in the Arcosanti Ceramic Apse. Finally, participants and audience are welcome to enjoy a relaxing afternoon by the Arcosanti pool before cleaning up and heading home.

* The event is entirely free and open to all members of the public, though donations for use of the site and the performers are strongly encouraged. * Camping is available on Arcosanti’s property, both Friday and Saturday nights, for $5.00 per night. * Arcosanti’s Visitor Center will be open all weekend, offering tours of the Arcosanti project, the world famous Soleri Windbells for sale, meals in the Arcosanti Café, snacks in the Bakery, and beer and wine at the Part-Timer Pub. * Parking is limited, please carpool. * No underage drinking, glass in the amphitheatre, or pets (except AAO) are allowed. * All artistic content completely uncensored and potentially life-altering. Be warned.

Arcosanti is located 65 miles north of Phoenix, and 2 1/2 miles northeast of Cordes Junction. Take exit 262 off I-17 and follow the signs for Arcosanti.

Taxco, Something in the Sky

Early in the morning,
the sun still young,
the woman blows up balloons
on the steps of the church,

blowing three big breaths
then twisting them,
twisting them, twisting
them tight so that
their silver cellophane
bodies come taut,

and she ties them
on sticks, sticks them
with the rest and
does this again,

three breaths, three times
in, three times out,
building a blossoming
cheap tree of balloons
pulled together, all
tight, all taut
together on the stick
like cellophane silver fruit,
born of mechanical blooms
and breath in a bundle,
a bundle she'll carry, all the

balloons stuck, waiting
for a child to see them,
a child to want one,
and a parent to want
to see their child happy.

She'll walk, all day, through
tight plazas and steep streets, waiting,
longing to sell her lungfuls, waiting
for a child to buy her breath wrapped
in a silver balloon, the wrapped
gift of her lungs, the push
of her diaphragm, the flexing
of her fingers cherished

until a child lets go and her
breath blows away, stray
balloon blows higher—pops,
breath escapes into the white sky,
where it hangs like a lost prayer.

Her breath, loose,
looks down and watches her.
Her breaths are the tiny souls of her moments.
Her chest rising, her fingers aching,
still waiting.

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Introducing the Dirtyverbs Show

How often do we just stop and listen? How often do we hear voices from other places? The street sounds of other places? What if someone made you a mixtape just of sounds they heard everyday on their way to work?

That's right. It's the Dirtyverbs Show. A bilingual podcast of ambient mixtapes, interviews, poetry, commentaries, questions, music, electroacoustic experimentation, performances, urban soundtracks, improvisational linguistics and the occasional chile relleno recipe. Audio from central Mexico, Arizona, the border and beyond.

Hosted and produced by logan phillips. Listen in, either in the browser or as a download (play it in iTunes). And let me know what you think, kids. Thanks to Richard Minardi for telling I should get this in gear.

Subscribe in iTunes by clicking here!

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¿Cuántas veces nos paramos nada más para escuchar? ¿Cuándo tenemos la oportunidad de oír las voces de otros lugares? ¿Los sonidos de la calle, aquí y allá? ¿Qué pasaría si alguien te hiciera un mixtape de los sonidos que oigan todos los días en rumbo a su trabajo?

Bueno, aquí está. The Dirtyverbs Show. Un podcast bilingüe de mixtapes ambientales, entrevistas, poesía, comentarios, preguntas, música, experimentación electroacoustica, performance, soundtracks urbanos, lingüística improvisada y de vez en cuando una receta para chiles rellenos. Audio desde el corazón de México, Arizona, la frontera y más allá.

Todo por logan phillips. Escúchalo abajo. Y dime que piensan, chavos. Gracias a Richard Minardi por decirme que ya debo hacer esto. Puedes escucharlo desde aquí, o también descargarlo para abrir con iTunes.

¡Verlo en iTunes, haz click aquí!

Summer tour 2007! NYC! ABQ! FLG! Oh my!

Hello lovers & fighters, apes & lizards, Good news. I'll be back in the States for six weeks this summer, performing in Arizona and New Mexico on my way to spread the word about Mexican poetry slam at the 2007 National Poetry Slam! This means that I will get a chance to see a lot of people whom I haven't seen in awhile. This makes me excited like a Neanderthal going camping.

Also, I have the chance to be in NYC for ten days in July! I have never been before, and am looking forward to it. They tell me that after Mexico City, NYC shouldn't be a problem. We'll see. I have a few dates booked, but I am looking for contacts in New York. If you know of anyone involved in poetry and / or performance & video, please help me out! I could really use it.

The gigs page is now back in action and is filling up with dates. If you know of an event that I should check out in any of the below places, please don't keep it to yourself, luva.

July 1-7: Northern Arizona / Phoenix July 8-18: NYC July: 19-25: Southern Arizona / Tucson / Bisbee (?) July 26-August 4: New Mexico / Albuquerque / Santa Fe August 4-11: Austin, TX, 2007 National Poetry Slam.

See you soon?

UNINTERlingua: la poesía slam

Este jueves pasado tuve la oportunidad de exponer un tema en la conferencia UNINTERlingua aquí en Cuernavaca. UNINTERlingua es una conferencia de lingüística que este año tenía como enfoque "Comunicación: palabra, imagen y acto," organizado por la Universidad Internacional. Claro que eso tiene todo que ver con la poesía slam.

Di una conferencia de una hora que explicaba lo que es la poesía slam, de donde viene y a donde va. También hablábamos de sub-temas lingüísticos y sociales como el españgish y inmigración, utilizando poemas míos y también unos de poetas chicanos muy conocidos, entre ellos Joaquín Zihuatanejo y Alurista. Me pidieron una conferencia en inglés, así que la mayoría sí se encontró en esa lengua, pero claro había muchísimo codeswitching.

Esto realmente es un tema que está cobrando mucha fuerza, gracias a grupos como Tochtli Productions que están organizando slams en el D.F. También mencioné por primera vez en un foro público que próximamente vamos a presentar el primer slam de poesía aquí en Cuernavaca.

Había un público de 50, más o menos, entre ellos estudiantes, profesores, mexicanos, estadounidenses, alemanes y otros. Refleja bien la dinámica del movimiento slam en nivel global, que representa gente de toda las edades, razas y creencias. A mí queda claro que la poesía es una arma que fácilmente se usa para derribar barreras lingüísticas que se divide a la gente, y que ya en el momento que hay un poeta disparando un tema bien escrito y fuerte, todos agarran la onda de la poesía slam.

Back from the Flagstaff tornado wordfire

This post is a little more blog-style than usual. Just back from Flagstaff and facing the seven hours of class I'm about to give...

So, after drinking beer and watching YouTube until sunrise with CX Kidtronik, Frosty and Kwame in a hotel room in PHX, the cab came to take me away. I was drunk and was continually messing up English greetings. I said, for instance, good evening. They would say, good morning, drunkard. Like Christopher Lane said when I left, everything resets when you sleep. Unless you don’t sleep, then you’re yesterdayman in a today world.

Here are some of the videos we were watching to distract you from reading the rest of this post. They are very intellectual.
• Indian Thriller
• Lego Thriller
• Cuba hitchhiking
• Pixies
• Year 2000 music
• James Brown interview
• Stevie Wonder on the Talk Box

I spent all of Earth Day in an empire of airports. I probably slept with my mouth open. After snow flurries in Flag, it was near-rain in LA. Only when landing in DF did it warm up again. Metaphor what you will.

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So what was it like? Euphoria tornado beer forest caffeine remix handshake cellphone performance word collapse. It reminds me what Derrick Brown was saying on stage at the show, how good it feels to meet genuinely kind people. Writing that doesn’t seem to convey the right idea. But right from Lane’s friend Colby at the airport the first time, I met a lot of great people in that 72 hours.

Coming into Flag, we didn’t make one single stop before we hit El Charro café on San Francisco. The kids from Brooklyn were looking for nachos and margaritas. A cultural experience, basically. The place kills, as it always has. American-Mexican chiles rellenos and sopapillas... the rest of the night was spent between the minivan, Aaron Johnson’s apartment, Day’s Inn, my sister’s house, the south side, etc.

The next day I picked up the books from the printer on the east side. Thanks go out to Jim for doing an amazing job. Right away I started stuffing and addressing envelopes: all of you that ordered last week will be getting the goods in the next couple days. Let me know if it takes longer. Now, what books are left are here in Cuernavaca, or sitting in a series of boxes across Arizona.

The soundcheck was hectic but was the chance to see everyone under one roof after months of planning: Saul, Derrick, Buddy, Lane, Aaron, Frosty, CX, Kwame, the Orpheum crew, volunteers, etc. Saul is a kind, calm and focused man. It was really interesting talking with him. Then Derrick, Buddy and I hit up the Black Bean, which is a strange sort of ritual everytime Derrick comes into town. Except now they have tequila shots and Derrick has to eat tiny, baby-bird bites. We should have combined the two. It was great to see Buddy again, it had been a couple years. The two of them are on tour in a rented Mustang.

I ate lasagne with my family and generally was cold even inside the house. Then Biskit, Leena, Jewel and Melinda showed up, exploding the place. We all left to the Orpheum, Jewelinda voltron chaos bliss. The show was very, very good. I think I got to see more people on the sidewalk before hand than any other time. I went on a little after nine, shouting ernest gibberish. My set went very quickly, afterwords some people said they expected more, but that is what the show called for. I forgot to say a lot of things that I meant to. Like a shout out to Kingman High School and Sedona Red Rock. Ooops. I’m not sure if Flagstaff realized that the dinosaurs really, really are coming back. Joke’s on them.

Buddy and Derrick have both evolved since I last saw them, both of them are playing with music now, and I thought it worked very well. I had of course heard a lot about Saul’s performances, and knew his work, but it was the first time seeing the two together. It seems like the three of them (Saul and the band) did exactly what they wanted to do, smoothly. Trying to describe the mix of musical genres that they span would only make it sound like a soundbit-laden fusion band, of which they are the opposite. A lot of bands combine sounds in a very intellectual, intentional way, which never works as well as realizing that at one time Bad Brains were playing rap, punk and reggae all at the same time and there’s really no reason for further “innovation” or pseudo-creations of genre-combos. Music is one. It all just flows, as it should.

Flagstaff was euphoric and looking for an afterparty. There was some confusion at the Orpheum and things scattered a bit. It happens, maybe as it should.

Would it be overly dramatic to call the experience life-changing? Of course. But that's just fine. The night reminded me how much I love so many people that I'm now far from, and how much I owe so many of those people. Jesica reminded me how important high school shows are. All of it together reminded me that I can't wait to tour again.

Thanks to Christopher Lane for the idea and the opportunity, thanks to Aaron Johnson for making it happen. Thanks to everyone for coming out, everyone who bought one of the new books, and everyone that said hi. I’ll see you in July.

New books for sale online: one week only.

Ok, ok. Let's try this. I know there are at least a few people out there who want copies of the new books before they're sold out, and that can't make it to the 4/20 Spoken Word Showcase in Flagstaff next week. So how about this:

I'm putting the two new books onsale online for one week only. If you pay for them through PayPal between now and 4/20 and email me your address, I will put them in the mail to you while I am in the States for the show. Sound good? Ok.

1. This Line Drawn Across Footprints: a high-quality printing of 44 pages, 16 poems in English, 4 Spanish translations, illustrations by Pedro Día, all of my best work from 2004-2005. $8 USD including shipping to anywhere on the globe. I swear. I'll do it.
2. Where Do Airplanes Build Their Nests?: another 44 pages professionally printed by an independent printshop in Flagstaff. 23 poems, most of which have never been previously published or performed. Original photography from Ireland, England, France, Spain, Mexico, Guatemala and Cuba. All new design work. This is the best from early 2006, when I left Flagstaff, until now, sitting here in Cuernavaca. Also $8 USD, shipped to any country whose government will allow it.
3. OR I'll send them both for $15. Because I can. I know, crazy.

So, you can pay through PayPal. You know the deal. It's fast, safe and secure. Really. Just hit the button below, as if you were going to "donate" (a ha-ha) and send along the jolly bills. Then send along your jolly address. And I'll send you some brand-new, still-smell-like-ink-and-printers'-armpits books. They may or may not be jolly. One week only, act fast, jivecat.

PS. The image on the right is what I'm gonna look like with all ya bills.

New chapbook: WHERE DO AIRPLANES BUILD THEIR NESTS?

Ok, this is it. After a ten day binge of editing and designing, I've finished the second new book: "Where Do Airplanes Build Their Nests?" It hit the presses as of today and will be on sale in Flagstaff at the 4/20 Spoken Word Showcase.

This one is a lot different from both "Sun Said Shine" and "This Line Drawn Across Footprints"---Airplanes includes a lot of my photography. It's a little like "If My Soul Were Metal" for those who remember back that far. All new poems, 2006-2007, nothing older than 15 months. Actually, a couple of the poems are just a few weeks old. All were written on the run, in Spain, France, London, Ireland, Guatemala, all over Mexico, the Southwest US and Cuba. Most of them have never been performed or published before.

So, 44 pages, 23 all-new poems, photography, and design. I'm excited & can't wait for you to see it. Though there's a bit of Spanish, there wasn't any room for translations this time. Soon I'd like to put out a book completely in Spanish instead. 200 copies will be available, and they probably won't last long.

Where Do Airplanes Build Their Nests?, my forth chapbook:

1. Where Do Airplanes Build Their Nests?
2. Taxco, Something in the Sky
3. Dispatch From the Horizon
4. Moon Falling From Cuban Sky
5. The Old Man Rides an Old Bicycle
6. Tell Me You'll Never See Her Again
7. The Rattle-Thumbs Battle Prayer
8. Arizona Freeway Sunrise
9. Jesús Lying Beneath the Subway
10. London Gossip I – III
11. Arnold Duncan Doesn't Live Here
12. Fair Warning
13. Granada Gossip I
14. Morelos Gossip I (Zapata's Silver)
15. Canto Mosquito
16. Pantoum Revolution I – II
17. Rechazasoles
18. Diez Puestas
19. Todos Santos, Presentes
20. The Cuban Writers' Union
21. Paris Gossip I – IV
22. Names for This
23. Candle at Two A.M.

New chapbook: THIS LINE DRAWN ACROSS FOOTPRINTS

After three years and four hundred copies of my last book, "Sun Said Shine," I'm excited to say that I will have two new books released at the 4/20 Spoken Word Showcase in Flagstaff, AZ on April 20th.

The first book is "This Line Drawn Across Footprints," and is a compilation of work from 2004-2005 including many form poems and other pieces that were in heavy rotation during the 05 and 06 tours. 44 pages long, 16 poems and brand-new Spanish translations of 4. Pedro Día returns to offer more of his acclaimed illustration work.

Only two hundred copies will be printed this time. Price will be right around $7. Due to still living in Mexico, there are no plans to offer the book for sale online at the moment, maybe that will happen in July.

Here's a list of the poems:

1. Gadsden in Sestina
2. Arizonan Ghazels
3. In Ciudad Júarez, They Say the Night is a Thief
4. Fabulous, or Where Costs Are Way Far Down
5. La Conquista Still Unfinished, the Priest Climbed
6. The Boy's Pockets
7. Morning of February 21, 2005
8. I Confuse the Dead Man,
9. Michael's Fever
10. This Poem Ate it All
11. What He Dreams of in His Coma
12. Fausto Arellano
13. La Viejita de Sonora
14. Eight-Year-Old Slinky Falling Down Stairs
15. Three Times el Búho Speaks
16. Silverfish

italicized poems in Spanish and English

More info on the other new book soon! Yay!

Interviewed in REFORMA

The night of the first Mexican poetry slam, I was interviewed by Óscar Cid de Leon for the national newspaper Reforma. Below is the article, both in English and Spanish.

Click the above image for the full-size article.

English below.

Lunes 5 de marzo del 2007 Cultura, REFORMA PRENDE EL SLAM POÉTICO Logra el concurso de poetas orales inesperada afluencia de público y participantes. Oscár Cid de León

Cuarenta personas al principio, y unas 90 al cerrar la noche, asistieron el viernes al primer slam chilango de poesía. ¿De que se trataba? Más de la mitad de los congregados no lo sabían, pero aun así decidieron reunirse y ponerse a tono con este tipo de iniciativas que desde la década de los 80 se realiza en bares y cafés de Estados Unidos.

La acción, explico en entrevista el slam poet estadounidense Logan Phillips, convoca a concurso a un puñado de autores noveles, que, familiarizados con las expresiones del rap y el hip-hop, ofrecen al público creaciones líricas en voz alta amalgamadas con el arte interpretativo.

Ante una concurrencia expectante, la Ciudad de México se estrenó en la materia con el primer Slam de Poesía (Taberna Red Fly, Orizaba 145, Col. Roma) en el que participaron 10 escritores y MC hiphoperos.

Oscar de pablo, vecino de la Roma y no muy familiarizado con la cultura del rap, fue elegido como el mejor de la noche, según la opinión del público que influye con sus abucheos sobre un jurado elegido entre la misma concurrencia.

"Hay que socializar la poesía, sacarla de su nicho elitista y de papel, porque en realidad la poesía es un fenómeno sonoro y colectivo, y este tipo de actividades son estupendas en ese sentido" señalo quien en 2004 ganó el premio Nacional de Poesía Joven Elias Nandino.

Por tratarse de la primera experiencia, el público se mostró poco participativo al inicio; pero conforme corrió la noche, la cerveza aflojó el cuerpo y desinhibió la garganta, resultando en un contagio general ante cada una de las participaciones.

Phillips que con menos de 30 años es ya un veterano en este tipo de certámenes, no podía perderse la primera experiencia en el D.F.

"Tengo experiencia organizando slams en Estados Unidos, y sé que usualmente estas comunidades comienzan en un café con un grupo de amigos, quizá unas 10 personas, para después multiplicarse conforme se corre la voz, señala quien radicado en Cuernavaca, fue invitado por las organizadoras Imuris Valle y Cara Cummings para transmitir su experiencia a los presentes.

"Llegaron unas 80 personas, y eso es increíble. puedo asegurar que México ya esta preparado para este movimiento"

Ante la buena respuesta, anunciaron las organizadoras, los slams poéticos se llevarán a cabo en el mismo sitio el primer viernes de cada mes.

March 5th, 2007 POETRY SLAM CATCHES FLAME

An out-loud competition of poets attracts an unexpected number of audience members and participants.

Óscar Cid de León REFORMA

Forty people in the beginning, and about ninety at the end of the night, attended the first Mexico City poetry slam on Friday.

What was it all about? More than half the people there didn’t know, but even so they decided to come check out the new event, the kind of which have been happening in bars and cafés in the United States since the 80’s.

The action, explained the American slam poet Logan Phillips in an interview, centers around a handful of local authors who, familiar with expressions of rap and hip-hop, offer the crowd spoken lyrical creations which include elements of interpretive performance.

The movement debuted before an eager crowd in Mexico City at the Primer Slam de Poesía, (Red Fly Tavern, Orizaba 145, Col. Roma) with the participation of ten writers and hip-hop MC’s.

Oscar de Pablo, a neighborhood resident who is not very familiar with rap culture, was voted the best of the night, according to the crowd who with their booing influenced the judges, who were selected at the event.

“Poetry must be made more social, taken out of its elite niche and taken off paper, because really poetry is a sonorous and collective phenomenon. Events like this are great in that sense,” said de Pablo, who in 2004 won the Elías Nandino National Youth Poetry Prize.

Being the first experience, the crowd wasn’t very participative in the beginning, but as the night went on, the beer loosened the body and uninhibited the throat, resulting in a contagousness for verse running through all the participants.

Phillips, less than 30 years old, is already a veteran of this type of competition and couldn’t miss the first event in Mexico City.

“I have experience organizing slams in the United States, and usually these communities begin in a café with a group of friends, maybe ten people, to later grow thanks to word of mouth,” says Phillips, who currently lives in Cuernavaca and was invited by organizers Iris del Valle and Cara Cummings to bring his experience to the event.

“About 80 people arrived, and that’s incredible. I can say for sure that Mexico is prepared for this movement.”

Thanks to the great response, the organizers anounced that the poetry slams will continue to take place in the same bar on the first Friday of every month

Hosting the First Mexican Poetry Slam

Sí, sí, voy a traducirlo al español, esperame tantito...Rabid and homegrown, the first regular, open, Chicago-style poetry slam lights fire in Mexico City, asking no permission and needing none.

The Red Fly Tavern is tucked into an old buiding on a quiet street in Colonia Roma, smack in the middle of Mexico City. Steps away is a plaza with soaring trees and fountains. I’m standing across the street from the Tavern, happy and a little amazed about what is about to happen. It hasn’t been especially easy getting here. Untangling the Mexico City subway on a Friday night after a 50 hour work week is recipe for delirium and loss of direction, but not impossible. I cross the street.

Dispite my plans and years of interest, I wasn’t the one to organize the first Mexican poetry slam. I heard about it from a friend who saw it announced on a website, and I immediately dropped all my weekend plans to go. The credit for bringing the first open, regular, Chicago-style poetry slam to Mexico City goes to two women, both of whom are standing at the top of the stairs in the Red Fly when I walk into the space.

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Cara Cummings is a Washington State native who has traveled around the world for the last decade, finally landing in Mexico City four years ago. There she met up with Imuris del Valle, a Mexico City born-and-raised asskicker with a unique talent for making big plans and following up on them. Together, they founded Tochtli Productions, and have spent the last two years organizing mostly hip-hop events in the city.

Then, recently, they suddenly decided to go in another direction. Despite the fact that she hadn’t attended a poetry slam in eight years and had never organized or ran one, Cara presented the idea to her compañeros, and off they went. But really, Mexican poetry slam has been years in the process, and lately the signs have been everywhere that it was coming: more interest in performance, various spoken word festivals and an exploding hip-hop scene. That’s not to mention the long, rich history of national poetry, from bombas in Yucatan, to décimas in fandangos, topadas and more.

But tonight is the first that promised to be free and open to all, judged by the audience. Both Cara and Imuris are looking very stressed. A reporter for the national newspaper Reforma, Óscar Cid de León, caught wind of the event, and published a story on the first page of the Cultura section the day of the slam. The night has the potential to explode. The room above the bar is small but perfect. Strange lighting and interior design, a great sound system and a small stage.

I had already emailed Cara, and they both seem happy to see me. They write my name on the signup list, and get swept up again in the swirl of organizing. Cid de León strikes up a conversation with me, and a few minutes pass. Soon we’re ready to start. The judges have been picked, and they ask me to give the “MC speil” to the crowd in Spanish. I ask the judges if they have yet slept with any of the participating poets. They say no and giggle. That out of the way, I explain the other, lesser important things, such as grading scale and what to look for in a poet.

So we’re all set to start. I meet David, who is to host the event. He’s a nice guy, with a great voice for the job. Then it comes out: we have no calibration poet to kick off the evening. Cara, Imuris and I, with our heads in a circle, quickly give up on all other options: I’ll calibrate then help David host. And so it ends up that I co-host the first ever Mexican poetry slam.

I introduce myself and explain that my poem was originally written in English and is directed at my compatriots in the US. I perform “Sin Voz” in Spanish. It’s hard to tell how it goes over, since it’s a translation and also the first poem of the night. The judges give me something like 18 out of 30. No problem, we’re off and running.

Ten poets in the first round. Two women, eight men, a good mix of participants coming from poetry and hip-hop backgrounds. Some of the poems are very, very good, though it’s obvious everyone in the room is getting used to this new format. I have to repeatedly mention the importance of booing and cheering the judges’ scores. Then, sometime just before the second round, it hits me: we’re arrived. Looking around from near the stage, with Cara scribbling numbers, Imuris snapping fotos, the DJ playing music between poets, poets getting ready for the mic and a screaming audience––we’ve arrived. This is it. Poetry slam has arrived, rabid, in Mexico.

By the time we take a break between the second and third rounds, the room is packed, with people spilling out of the door and craning their necks to see the stage. The beer is too expensive, but people are thirsty, and things are getting wilder.

To start the last round, I ask the audience’s permission to do a poem in English. They agree, and I go into “The Boy’s Pockets,” a bit slower than usual. It goes over really well. The third round, “La ronda de la muerte,” we cut to four poets. In the end, a guy named Oscar de Pablo takes it, and later it comes out that he is a published poet. The general concensus is that a few of the MC-poets made better connections with the audience, but tonight it was the published poet that took it.

It turns out the Tochtli girls have big, big plans. The Roma Slam will be every first Friday, with winning poets collecting points that will go towards their participation in the first-ever Mexican Grand Slam in December. The plan is for me to co-host from here on out. Another group already is throwing another, one-off slam later this month in another part of the city. It’s obvious: this is the spark. Before 2007 ends, I could see there being at least five regular slams in the Mexico City area.

After the slam, DJ Aztek sets up, and there is a dance party / freesytle MC battle that lasts for hours. Many of the poets freestyle, and a few MC’s show up just for the battle. At 3am, we’re back at Cara’s apartment a few blocks away, with everyone laughing and reviewing and making plans for the next slam. So it goes.

So it’s official. The international poetry slam movement has arrived to the largest Spanish-speaking country on the planet. Next stop everywhere.

It's official: opening for SAUL WILLIAMS 4/20

Well, this morning the rumors were confirmed:

I will be returning to the historic Orpheum Theatre in downtown FLAGSTAFF, ARIZONA for my first performance in the US in ten months. I'll be opening the 4/20 SPOKEN WORD SHOWCASE, brought to you by none other than NORAZ Poets Southwest, the non-profit poetry organization out of northern Arizona.

Who else will be performing. Saul? Yes. Buddy Wakefield? Yes. And Derrick C. Brown. Indeed. I can say from personal experience that all three are high-calibur performers, the kind of which are very rare. Derrick has been one of my favorite poets for years, you won't be disppointed.

Also, the event will mark the release of my first chapbooks in two years. Not one, but two. New work from Paris to Guatemala, Arizona to Cuba.

Get your tickets early. This thing will be the largest spoken word event ever in northern Arizona. And it will sell out. More info to come.

The NORAZ POETS 4/20 SPOKEN WORD SHOWCASE
Feat. Saul Williams, Buddy Wakefield, Derrick C. Brown and Logan Phillips.

Friday, April 20th, 2007. 8:30pm.
Orpheum Theatre, Flagstaff, Arizona
$20 advance, $25 at the door
Tickets on sale February 14th in Flagstaff
More information at norazpoets.org

Interview On KBRP-LP Bisbee

On the last night of 2006 I recorded an interview with Noah Suby for his show on Bisbee, AZ's low power radio station, 96.1 KBRP. It's a unique project, one I support any way that I can, it's one-of-a-kind in its area (south of Tucson). Noah and his family are great people, and Bisbee is almost an adopted home town for me at this point. It was a good time to say the least. We talked a bit about the area, about immigration and other things. I also read some poems, one of which, "Taxco, Something in the Sky" is very new. Noah wrote to say that the interview is going to be aired again this Saturday, January 20th at 3pm Arizona time (MST). You can listen in, thanks to KBRP's live streaming, which is a very cool thing for an LP station to have. Sooner or later a CD-R of the interview will make it to Mexico, and when it does, I'll post the audio here as well. Hasta entonces. Happy Wednesday.

2006 thanks

It's been a bit without action on this site, I know, but that's on its way to changing. I plan to have a whole lot more to say this spring than I did during the fall. But first, there's a couple things I'd like to say. I don't think I can make any New Years resolutions until I give some thanks for the Old Year. First off, thanks to the regular readers of this site. You know who you are. Even if you haven't commented on anything or shot me an email, I still know you're there (stats, you know), and it encourages me to keep writing. Aquí en México la vida es una lucha, and this site is one of the connections to the wider world that keeps me firing.

Next, to anyone who has supported me in even the smallest way in 2006, know that I haven't forgotten it. After touring through five states and visiting seven countries, I have truly learned the meaning of generosity. It often comes in tiny but potent doses. A kind word, a smile, encouragements, they all add up to a greater sum than their parts. And to those of you who bought a book or a shirt. And those who have bought me a drink or given me the occasional and beloved "twenty dollar handshake," know that you've made all of this possible.

Some recent fotos of the holidaze, taken by me.

My kids’ take on Sun Said Shine

Well, my short but vivid time as an elementary school teacher has drawn to a close. This Wednesday will be my last day as the "Teacher Logan" of brilliant and shining 3rd and 4th graders. Though they're awesome, my true calling is not that of an elementary school teacher (though it's fun sometimes!). I can see myself working with niños again in the future, but at this point I lack a fundamental patience. They've taught me a lot, but I'm moving on. I have been offered a professor position at Universidad Internacional, one of Cuernavaca's more well-known and beautiful schools. I'll be teaching two sections of Latin American Literature: the Avant-Garde 1900-present and "Latin American Lit. II," both completely in Spanish. Also it's just come down that I will be teaching "Translation III: Spanish-English-Spanish," that one will be taught in Spanglish. Needless to say, this is a pretty big jump, and I'm thrilled. I'm not exactly sure why they think I'm qualified, except that I've got a diploma and passion. We'll see.

But that's next semester. Last week I performed for the first time in four months: I read my story "Sun Said Shine" to my students. I wanted to see how much of it they'd get and what their take on it would be. Apparently the idea of a woman talking to the sun and becoming the moon seems pretty logical to a Mexican 8-year-old. When we got back to the classroom after sitting outside, I asked my third graders to illustrate the story for me and write a couple sentences about it. Here's what they came up with. Nothing against Pedro Día, whose illustrations in the book are great, but the kids nailed it.

Fernanda: "The women take a limonade in the garden while the sun hide and the women have a pretty garden."

What can you say? The woman doesn't have much to worry about, she's got a tree that grows cherries, apples and bananas at the same time. A reason to smile, for sure.

Efrain: "Hola."

A burning hilltop summit... kinda reminds me of the image I saw in a dream that lead to the poem "What He Dreams of In His Coma." But way more happy.

Paola: "The sun pass for the garden of the woman. The woman lives in the end of the earth."

Ah, Paola. She never gives a wrong answer and never stops smiling. A cool abstract take on things...

Ricardo: "The old woman is cool. The sun is yellow."

Things to note in the world of Ricardo: the woman not only has pet crocodiles but a jet on the roof of her house (how else would she get into the sky? Duh!). Also check out the lemonade on the arm of the chair. "Helloy" indeed.

Hilary: "The son is big. The sun is friends the moon. The woman is friends the sun."

I really like this one. The sun's a little intellectual, the moon is dancing, and the house is painted Mexican style. I'm pretty sure the end of the earth looks a lot like this.

Dulce: "The sun... el sol se esta ol cultando."

Ay, pobre Dulce. The world is passing this little girl by a little bit, but she's happy. And so is the sun.

Sandra: "The sun is friend the old woman. The always tlak to the sun. The old woman dive and she convert a moon."

Sandra bounces when she walks. Sandra bounces when she is sitting still. Sandra bounces and smiles. And apparently someone sent a blimp out to the end of the earth to drop money on the old woman and her pet teddy bear. What can you say. Sandra bounces.

Gabriel: "The friend of the grandmother is very cool and use glasses black is very very cool."

It's funny to see how one thing can catch on and all the students end up doing it. For instance, if you haven't noticed the trend by now, the sun is definitely cool. See the sunglasses? Cool, huh? Get it!? The sun wearing sunglasses?! Oh, third graders. We use the word "cool" a lot in my classes. Cool planet too, Gabriel.

Aldo: "The woman always spick with the sun. The sun talk what he sees. The woman drink lemonade when the sun talk whit the woman. The woman say: I did (die) in one year. The woman jump a finish the planet."

That about sums it up. In this one Aldo's got the woman living on top of the globe, very cool. Note that all the continents are a little random, but Mexico's smack in the middle! Right on. The sign says "garden." Good vocabulary, Aldo. Teacher Logan pats himself on the back.

Paulo: "The women transform in the moon and she talks with the sun."

Paulo lives in a world all his own. If the world lets him, he'll be an artist someday. At least a once a day he asks me "¿Puedo jugar en silencio?" Can I play silently? I always say yes, and off he goes into his imagination. I do have to remind him every now and again though that if his pencil box keeps talking that loud, I'll have to send both it and Paulo outside while the rest of the class finishes the assignment. He's also a rockin' dancer and English speaker, thanks to his parents. They lived in the U.S. for years illegally before returning and having Paulo.

Alexis: "The grandmather is small. The grandmather is pretty. The gandmather have a friends. The grandmather have a car."

The old woman (with wrinkles and a limonade) asks "Helo, do you have friends?" And the sun says "Yes, I have." I think the sun is also wearing tightie underwear. But as Spring the artist pointed out, check out that depth perception on the rocking chair. Rockin' chair indeed. And who can live at the end of the earth without a strange green car that has an exhaust pipe coming out of the roof?

Rodrigo: "The women speak sun and drink lemonade of speak and alway see your flower for one day she is moon and light the earth no speak for he friend and she lives in the space."

Wow. What can you say to that? Except that on that in the picture, the old turban-wearing woman is asking the sun "Hello sol have lasagne?" I asked Rodrigo, "Rodrigo, why is the woman talking about lasagne?" To which smiled and shrugged and said "I looked it up in the dictionary, Teacher! Jajajaja." Locos. Puros locos estos chumacos.

Pancho Villa: La Revolución No Ha Terminado

I won’t forget tonight. About an hour ago I shook the hand of Emiliano Zapata’s grandson, and shortly thereafter, the hand of Pancho Villa’s daughter, who is in her mid 90’s.

It went down at the premier of a new Mexican documentary, “Pancho Villa: La Revolución No Ha Terminado” at Cine Morelos in Cuernavaca. The signs have been omnipresent across town for the last week, proclaiming in bold letters “¡DESPIERTA MEXICANO! CONOCE TU HISTORIA.” (“Mexican, wake up! Learn your history.”) This afternoon I tore down one of the ton that have become like beautiful wallpaper in the mercado, and had it on my desk to remind me. Nevertheless, it took the mob outside the theater to really make me realize that this wasn’t to be missed.

The director, Francesco Taboada Tabone, seeks to relate the story of Francisco Villa, the famous Mexican revolutionary, as “told by those who knew him.” The resulting portrait is decidedly different from the two-dimensional national hero that is celebrated throughout the country around November 20th, Día de la Revolución. Villa’s compañeros and familiars present him as he was: a populist hero born of la tierra, born of dirt, of adobe, of injustice. Indeed, early in the film various people relate the indignities that he and his family suffered at the hands of the hacienda-owning family where he was born.

Some of the people interviewed clearly see Villa as a type of populist saint, similar in practice—if not in stature—to la Virgen de Guadalupe. One ancient and inspiring woman clutches a porcelain cartoon-like representation of Villa to her chest as she describes her belief in him. Clearly, a grain of salt is to be taken with all facts relating to the life of Villa—whether they’re being told by a President of the Republic or a now-ancient Villa contemporary.

A frequent criticism of the political party currently in power, the PAN, is that they downplay the Revolution as an irrelevant thing of the past. On the other hand, the PRI, who held power from that revolution until 2000, belligerently celebrated their vision of the same events. Mexicans are used to hearing about the revolution after 70 years. So a party that does not continually parade it in the national spotlight comes as something of a surprise.

It doesn’t seem to surprise Tarbone, who says about the movie “today in Mexico we live in a colonial system headed by an extremely corrupt minority who serves an American business consortium. In Villa’s time, it was exactly the same.” He has a lot of evidence to point to, including the coming swearing-in of Felipe Calderón on December 1st, the staunchly pro-business and pro-American PAN president-elect.

It seems that it is impossible to talk about the Mexican Revolution without talking about the intense events currently gripping the country. Which is why, Tarbone seems to say, it is critical to remember the revolution now, as it really was, to remember it as it exists in the minds of the people, not in the standardized memory of government institutions.

The characters in the film haven’t forgotten, even if at their age they find it hard to articulate the words to describe their passion (indeed, in some places their Spanish is near unintelligible). So many quotes could be taken from the film, which speaks not only to the passion of the interviewed, but also the skill of the interviewees. The editing and filming are similarly inspired: 8mm cameras were used in production, which allows Tarbone to better blend archival footage with modern interviews.

There is a certain current of antigringoism that runs through the film, as there probably should be. After all, it was Villa who “on the morning of March 16th, 1916, ... invaded the village of Columbus, thus undertaking the first invasion of American territory by an Latin American army,” according to the filmmakers. In one memorable (especially for a gringo) sequence, a third generation resident of Columbus, New Mexico and “archivist” tells the story from the American side of the border. His great-grandfather was killed in the taking of the village, and the archivist’s segment ends with his calling Villa nothing less than a “terrorist.” From the American perspective Villa could certainly be seen that way, but perhaps owing to the Bush administration’s recent love affair with (and overuse of) that word, the New Mexican’s words drew laughs tonight in the Cuernavacan theater.

Tarbone: “our goal is to show Latin Americans that the time has come to break with this undignified destiny and to remember that we are heirs of men and women who throughout our history have fought for a continent where social justice is a reality.” And in that, the filmmakers have been very successful. Now all that’s left is to bring this work of highly relevant art to a mass audience, which could definitely be as difficult in modern Mexico as making the film itself.

And it never hurts, when drawing a crowd, to have the daughter of Villa and the grandson of Zapata on hand to inspire some additional awe. For the record, this grandson of Zapata—who addressed me with a warm “¿qué tal?”—is the spitting image of his hero grandfather. It is true, in more ways than one that “la revolución no ha terminado.”

Foto From Where I Live

On a rainy Cuernavaca morning, here in the middle of the Centro, I have stumbled across the exhibition of a fotógrafo that describes better where I live than anything I can imagine myself writing. It's called México Tenochtitlán by Francisco Mata Rosas. It has been published as a book by Ediciones Era and is being exhibited online along with an amazing video version of the work. As a writer it pains me to say it, but there are some things that can't be described in words...

Arizona Freeway Sunrise

The grasses are always dancing in the median,headbangers, seed sowers, dry spines twisting. Freeway flowers face early decapitation— guillotine tirewind, lit by skyfire:

here the sun is literally a star, made of beaten copper, sharp, imperfect. As the star pulls itself up again, the sky goes streaked, the improbable pattern of yellow-red, vivid.

The radio stations are just murmurs in the Spanglish static. The cities hide behind the horizons. The tires break grass necks. The flowers throw themselves like colorful, suicidal philanthropists into the eastbound, into the westbound.

Saguaro shadows are twirling sundials on the clock face of burning sand, they tick, they spin, they speak until they’re spoken to, torn down, paved over, left in piles, sold.

The rush, the hush, the hiss of wind and the immutable silence of light. The piston explosions, the cellphone syllables.

Two realities in the same moment. Two landscapes that never touch.

Arizona freeway sunrise. A breeze blowing through barbwire.

•

Amanecer en carretera de Arizona

Los pastos siempre bailan en el camellón, de atrás para adelante, esparcen la semilla, sus secas espigas se tuercen. Las flores de carretera enfrentan temprana decapitación; viento-guillotina de llantas, iluminadas por el fuego del cielo:

aquí el sol es literalmente una estrella hecha de cobre forjado, puntiaguda, imperfecta. Mientras la estrella se levanta de nuevo, bandas cruzan el cielo, el improbable patrón de amarillo-rojo, intenso.

Las estaciones de radio sólo son murmullos en la estática. Las ciudades se esconden detrás de los horizontes. Las llantas rompen cuellos del césped. Las flores se arrojan como coloridos y suicidas filántropos hacia el este, hacia el oeste.

Las sombras de los saguaros son manecillas que giran sobre el cuadrante de la arena hirviente, hacen tictac, giran, hablan hasta que se les habla, derribados, asfaltados, apilados, vendidos.

La prisa, la calma, el silbar del viento y el silencio inalterable de la luz. Las explosiones de pistones, las sílabas de celulares.

Dos realidades en un mismo instante. Dos paisajes que jamas se tocan.

Amanecer en carretera de Arizona Una brisa silbando entre alambre de púas.

•

Trad. de J. Emilio Rodríguez

On Oaxaca

The governments' guns advance toward the University on this Day of the Dead. The last time I passed through Oaxaca City was just under a year ago, a January morning just before the dawn began to look into the mirror of the sky. I walked from the bus station towards the center of the city as the dawn brought its fire to the stone streets and everything lit up gold. It was hard to tell then what would take place in the city later that year, but it wasn’t impossible. It’s that secret that all beautiful colonial towns hold here in Mexico, a certain dark desperation in the eyes of those sitting on the streets.

Just a handful of hours from where I am sitting, today Oaxaca burns under the heat of a different flame. Since the Federal Preventative Police put the city under siege last week, very few things are certain. Presidente Fox, who after months of inaction, sent the PFP to “bring peace to Oaxaca.” He has been under increasing pressure since the presidential election was decided in September to not give the Oaxaca situation to incoming president Felipe Calderón as a welcome gift in December. Taking a tip from the old PRI playbook, Fox hesitated for months, then sent in the firearms.

Very few things are certain. An American indymedia reporter has been killed by an armed group (on October 27), most likely a plainclothes paramilitary group, who if wasn’t sanctioned by the state government, was at least allowed to operate freely by them. As I write this, Radio Universidad is still broadcasting (listen live here). It is the last form of mass communication that APPO holds (La Asamblea Popular de los Pueblos de Oaxaca, the coalition group directing the rebellion). The PFP is amassing a few blocks away from the University, undoubtedly planning an attack.

The people here in Cuernavaca are split on the situation in Oaxaca. Memories still linger of the Mexican Guerra Sucia of the 1970’s and 80’s when the ruling PRI party repressed all political dissent through “disappearing,” torture, and limitless incarceration. I talked to a very intelligent taxi driver on October 31st who, based on his experiences in the Guerra Sucia, lamented that the leaders of the APPO were marching their movement directly into the jaws of a massacre at the hands of the PFP. He agreed, however, that the movement was just and that the government was wrong in attacking the city, that the attack would just throw gas on the flames.

During a cultural festival last weekend in the Zócalo (center plaza) of Cuernavaca, quite a few people from this city were circulating with signs in support of the APPO. One was carrying a communist flag. Throughout the centro for the last several weeks, political posters have been wheat pasted in public places in support of the APPO. Example:

Yo APPOyo Tú APPOyas Él APPOya Ella APPOya Nosotros APPOyamos Ustedes APPOyan

(the verb “apoyar” can be translated as “to support”)

Radio Universidad transmits the nicknames of this morning’s kidnapped. The announcers speak of bringing flowers to the resistance barricades. Sempasuchitl, flower of the dead. It is a tense time in Mexico, and the country continues to twist itself tighter and tighter. By the time Calderón is sworn in December, things might just snap. If not before.

Border Policies Claim the Lives of 205 Migrants in Arizona Alone

Released recently from los compañeros de la Coalición de Derechos Hermanos: In the fiscal year that began on October 1, 2005 and ended on September 30, 2006, two hundred five migrant deaths were documented in Arizona. Numbers from the Pima, Yuma, and Cochise County 152 males, 48 females, and 5 individuals whose gender is still unknown. This also includes the documented deaths of 8 children, whose number make up approximately 4% of the total number of migrant deaths this past fiscal year.

Most tragic is the alarming number of unidentified migrants who die on the Arizona-Sonora border. This fiscal year’s count included 93 migrants whose identities are as of yet unknown, 45% of the total number of migrant casualties. Since 1995, more than 1/3 of all border deaths remain unidentified.

“In addition to the pain caused by the unnecessary deaths of hundreds of men, women and children in our communities every year, is the agony that comes with not knowing the identity of so many,” says Anna Ochoa O’Leary of Derechos Humanos. “Hundreds and hundreds of families must endure the torture of not knowing what has become of their loved ones.”

As the immigration “debate” continues to provide fuel for political positioning as the elections near, the human rights crisis continues to be ignored, or worse, in some instances used as justification for calls for more militarization of our border. Xenophobic and racist rhetoric is routinely given free range, while demands from border communities for meaningful dialogue on these issues have received no attention.

As a small, non-profit human rights organization that seeks to bring change and justice to the border, Coalición de Derechos Humanos began in 2003 to systematically document the deaths along the Arizona/Sonora. For twelve years our bloated federal agencies have refused to provide true accounting for the deaths, as corroborated by the GAO in its latest study, Border-Crossing Deaths Have Doubled Since 1995; Border Patrol’s Efforts to Prevent Deaths Have Not Been Fully Evaluated.

“We call upon our communities to come together in our demand that our leaders put an end to border deaths by implementing immigration and economic policy reform that address the issue of migration, and by immediately demilitarizing our borders. As we have witnessed for more than a decade, and as the increasing loss of human life serves to attest, our current border agencies are rich in resources, and extremely poor in human decency, failing in their obligations to humanity,” stated O’Leary.

The list of migrant deaths is available on the Derechos Humanos website: http://www.derechoshumanosaz.net/deaths.php. This information is available to anyone who requests it from us and is used by our organization to further raise awareness of the human rights crisis we are facing on our borders.