Last week, Dace, put out an invitation to the household.
On Saturday, I walked into our cozy little library and found that many others had also decided to answer her call. Dace spent her internship in LA, where she was introduced to, Street Poets inc. "
Since this experience, Dace has found a force in poetry, and this force is what we had gathered to share with her. Dace read us a poem called 'Singularity', first once and then twice more, as a sort of echo by two other individuals. We all sat and listened, leaning into each other in the tiny space. She then asked us to write from this place for fifteen minutes. I was surprised when my pen suddenly jumped to attention in my fingers. I had something to say, or rather, something to remember. The poem below is a time piece. A taste of images from a time before YIP. After fifteen minutes, we made a round, reading to each other, and again repeating just once so the listener could really fall in.
Today: And The Memory
I'm remembering Freedom
black dresses on hot days is one
stopping traffic with my tears the taste of my
and rage. my own name.
Freedom I'm remembering
it speaks of fire him and age,
and desolation. and the flooding of the bridge
I'm remembering and the memory.
barefoot shoes Today
along muddy paths and
and that stream the memory.
that brought my dreams.
alongside bright red
and the echoing of your name
in the halls of my brain.
is not plural