The third season finale for the unstoppable Hot Damn! It’s a Queer Slam filled Buddies to the rafters. That this queer slam circuit would become so quickly establish & vital clearly reflects the power of poetry and the hunger there is for queer performers to have a safe, inviting, encouraging space to share their work. If you think, what the fuck is he going on about – trust me covert & not so convert homophobia is always present – in the local poetry scene.
As always Charlie Petch opened the show with an homage to the people whose stolen land we live on & then with the queer national anthem. No time was wasted before the open stagers (not in performance order) Fira Astrali, Niambi Leigh, D’Scribe, Ossian Maceachern, Shawna Dimitry, & Darcy Alemany (title of this blog post is from one of his pieces) tore up the mic with the first round of pieces:
black girls never win the Bachelor – Trump didn’t invent racism – I want to say best & breast comes out – saying I’m sorry more often than I say I love you – how much am I allowed to love you – I don’t speak the language of my ancestors – the nail is not a fashion statement – Justin: just in time for Time magazine – what right angle explains attraction – straight because I never had to prove I was straight – a love that doesn’t need to be gendered – you can be attracted to people of who are more than a single gender – sudden onset of requests for threesomes – this mouth keeps you warm at night -nthis mouth starts forest fires on Saturdays – this mouth tries not to remember – Dear Love, don’t find this creepy, but I like to watch you – are you the devil, is that why I worship you – I’m am not universal I am just here –
Next up was Queen Sheba. Can I mention the feature’s fashion sense without coming off as a typical shallow gay man? Whatever, as if I have a reputation to lose, right? She was fly in smart hat, tight red skirt & heels for days. Her pieces were powerful, funny, emotional & directly from the heart. – riding the rainbow – bruises as medals of honour – only as strong as out last execution – no place in a woman’s house is a hiding place, God will give you the gift but you’ll never know what it is until you open it – dive too young to know what a diva is – directly from lips to your curiosity – I cool-side-of-the-pillow love you. She finished with truncated version of her Period piece that was hilarious, explicit & made me grateful I’m male.
After a brief break Charlie launched the second round – her scrubs are dancing too – maybe that’s just my IV lines – I smell like a Wes Craven movie – he has lost most of who he is – our pain is not illegitimate – compassion was a childhood myth – still leaving myself in dreams – this is what a leaving hurricane looks like – lets talk the theology of the margins – better to shut up & pay the bills – one day you’ll be okay – edges of edges you wish you didn’t know – pray your medication protects you from evil – my God is made of the arms of my friends – no one deserves to pray alone –
I look forward to seeing winner D’Scribe wow them at Capturing Fire in Washington DC this June. Stay tuned for season four of Hot Damn!
on Friday I took in Queen Sheba’s writing workshop. One of the exercises was a free-write with a new word introduced every 30 seconds. This is my very incoherent product?
The Caffeinated Dragon
the cup is a vessel
of unstoppable thought
caffeine sets off in its way
my conscious mind
can’t contain the words dancing
irritation on the page
spelling trips over its feet
trying to keep up
with the love of the flow
the place we go off the page
where I scatter
these steps skipping lines
with double dutch infections
the ship of schools
requires attention
I can’t attend to
not that the open window
distracts me
distances me
I know the page
isn’t a glass
yet I see through it to
food for the next
trip trippy world
to the next dance
each a pas de paradox
a menu of random improvisations
that call for bigger letters
sloppier writing
to empty the free flying feet
to the reading of the
window of the mind
under the eaves of distraction
the shudders
shutters
shooters in schools of thought
not caring
not daring
to find more
than the flow
of the caffeinated dragon
snorting the fire dance
sword dance
half-a-chance to catch breath
deep in the mines
not digging
dragging more
thoughts up the stairs
catching the eyes
that dread the dead end
the last drop of coffee
Chapbooks available: http://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6
#Judgemental? Me! http://wp.me/p1RtxU-2jn
check out these poets from Capturing Fire 2015 & 2016
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