Live Reading

I found myself deeply humbled to share this freezing concrete step with some truly great leaders, compassionate souls, and kick-ass young people at an interfaith community gathering Friday night. It’s a new piece, not yet titled or even typed. I confess it’s not my best reading, it had none of my usual rehearsing or preparing. But in case you were wondering, this is the poet behind this humble little blog. I hope my little contribution to the event helps someone, somehow.

This started as a reaction to all those pictures of dead bodies that come through my news feed. Dead bodies don’t really work well to galvanize action, they’re too much like porn, an object for a fantasy. Live people with stories and dreams and subjectivity are much more effective.

And yes, I think that the political is always personal and the personal is always political and am incapable of expressing either alone. It’s part my story and part a longing to hear the stories of living people rather than see pictures of dead people.



About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
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