“I went down to Rockaway Beach yesterday with my children and we saw what was going on there, we saw the destruction,” she said. “It was really sad but we also saw amazing acts of humanity. People sharing with other people, people working hard, cleaning houses, handing out food, blankets giving love and a hug.” Madonna
This October 8 I gave a reading in Tribeca, NYC. A new friend, Ishwari, bought my book and gave it to the director of Brooklyn Art Council, Dr. Kay Turner. I looked her up. Dr. Turner loves Folklore as “the oral basis of culture, bringing the past into the present…,” she mentioned in an interview conducted by Diana Taylor for HIPP, NY.
Here’s where I pick up the thread. Kay thanked Ishwari with an email that said this:
“I am devouring Untold. I love it! Thank you!!! You will appreciate that I took it with me to Madonna’s concert on Monday night. To read about the Wives while I waited for Her!! Ha! Xok”
Best book review I’ve gotten. Thank you Kay! Pop Royalty and the royalty of the 7th Century – together – at Madison Square Garden…. oh, yes. It makes me smile.
And this on the concert: from reviewer Cory Midgarden: [November 13th for MTV online News]: NEW YORK — “Madonnafans were in for a treat Monday night when the Material Girl packed Madison Square Garden for her MDNA Tour. While concertgoers waited for more than an hour between her set and her opening act …. it all proved to be worth the delay once the original Queen of Pop took the stage.
The 54-year-old confirmed the title was still hers as she opened the night wearing a black skintight ensemble that was hard to imagine Britney, Beyoncé or Gaga pulling off in 25 years’ time. But it was not just her flawless appearance that garnered ear-piercing screams throughout MSG. As Madonna worked the crowd with her single “Girl Gone Wild,” it was clear to everyone in attendance that they were in the presence of pop royalty…. The mood changed dramatically before her performance of “Masterpiece,” however, where Madonna expressed her condolences for those affected by Superstorm Sandy.”
Please! May we all continue to send prayers and help to those who are still suffering from this terrible storm. <>
Last week Shabda and I were in New York City for a gentle Peace Walk, inspired by Jack Kornfield. Buddhist, Muslim, Sufi, Jewish, and Christian leaders, we set the pace. I know that the power of that intention of peace held by nearly a thousand people walking in a line makes a kind of rain-of-light that falls on the intended wounds in our earth, and acts as a balm. When a Yogi sits in a cave peacefully, the crime rate in the world drops a little bit. And I believe this is practical thinking, not airy-fairy silliness. So I walk for Peace on Earth, particularly in the Middle East.
New York City knows pain. I feel when I am there, a kind of collective experience, a bit of the maturity the Europeans have. To give words to the feeling: Yes, we have known the harm of 9/11 directly, and that teaches us to overlook our differences and acknowledge a kind of brother-sisterhood beneath petty competition. It is just a layer, a whiff, like the smell of chestnuts, or the subway heat coming up through a sidewalk grill on a cool day. I notice it. I honor it. I am sensitive right now to loss. <>
THE PLAZA HOTEL
It is right to mourn
For the small hotels of Paris that used to be
When we used to be….
The Lost Hotels of Paris ~ Jack Gilbert
A day or so after the walk, I went to 5th Avenue and Central Park. We were meeting my sister-in-law for a stroll in the park. I was drawn to the Plaza Hotel. It is one of my childhood homes, and this year I have been going inside them all: near Chicago this spring – my own house of the first eighteen years; my deceased Grandmother’s beautiful place two miles away; and now the sublime Plaza, her sister, my Great Aunt Marie’s home for part of every year in the decades when the Plaza served as residences as well as hotel rooms. She was one of the last of those who got their mail there, and called it “home.” My eccentric Great Aunt took a special interest in me. She had no children of her own. My mother was unable to care for me in my teen years, and I was sent away to school, then college just outside New York City. Mrs. Paul Healy the permanent guest on the 13th floor was a kind of mother to me. My time with her was the sixties.
Me and Aunt Marie back in the day
Aunt Marie married the man who founded Lyon and Healy music stores, which did well in the depression. He played high-stakes Bridge on the French Riviera. Paul Healy died early, but she was a financial genius who played the stock market from the 40’s through 60’s, so she could afford this life in her widowed years. A strong independent woman!
She lived in the Plaza spring and fall, The Everglades Club in Palm Beach in the winter, and Claridges in London and the Meurice Hotel in Paris in the summer. She wore a reddish wig she called her transformation, gold lace-up heels, fancy French clothing and white gloves every time she went out. She would send me to Elizabeth Arden’s to get cleaned up, have my messy curls set in a Mad Men bee hive.
I’m ready to go…right out of Mad Men
We would go downstairs to the Persian Room for dinner to see Diahann Carroll sing: Everything’s Coming up Roses. I loved bringing my college friends to meet my “Auntie Mame.” For them it was a movie. Sometimes she fixed me up with men friends in their 50’s because at age 85, we all seemed young to her. She had hopes for me that I would marry “royalty,” but those were dashed when I became a hippy in the late 60’s. She stopped writing me. Wouldn’t speak to her beloved niece who had moved to California and disappointed her so. I was bereft when she died before she saw my life bloom…
So as I walked from palatial room to room, the Palm Court, the Oak Room, The Edwardian Room, where we shared quiet dinners, [now a fancy men’s boutique,] I gave a silent thanks to my wacky, wonderful Aunt Marie who shared her glorious Manhattan with me years ago.
New salon where the Persian Room used to be: The Plaza
Every year there is a delicious writers’ conference in St Helena, about an hour and 15 minutes from my house. A couple of times I’ve attended for the week, but usually I go up for a day and immerse myself in a poetry craft talk offered at 9:00 in the morning by an admired poet. This year I joined my friend poet Wendy Taylor Carlisle and her husband David for a talk by Brenda Hillman. Brenda is a poet with a brilliant mind and very good heart. My mind and body loves the way her talk makes me feel – often on the edge of aha – that’s it, but deeply relaxed in my own trust of her surprising word choices.
The talk began with a “bacteria” conversation, linked by scientific statements. Then she picked up the six questions listed below. There were poems to illustrate her points. Forrest Gander read a Cesar Vallejo poem in Spanish. Eavan Boland read Cascando by Samuel Beckett. Brenda mentioned this poem touched her long ago and still does:
…the hours after you are gone are so leaden
they will always start dragging too soon
the grapples clawing blindly the bed of want
bringing up the bones the old loves
sockets filled once with eyes like yours….
Brenda spoke rapidly and the mic was lower than I’d have preferred, so I can only throw out a few kernels of her
Brenda Hillman and Forrest Gander
talk: something about the mysteries of sound and sense, the balance of sound and image in her poetry. Some phrases: “Poetry that does not connect to the heart is worthless.” ~~ “Is there an original mystery? Mystery of language (goes into creating poetry), mystery of the non-human world, including everything that is observable that is not us. That is the shape upon which my observations and longings are formed.” ~~~ “I think of myself as disheveled wildflowers rather than a single poppy.”
She created her lecture around 6 questions to begin and end with. I loved copying them for this blog, since they are thought provoking and profound.
1 How do we find a balance between the use of language combinations chosen for their sound qualities(weird / cool diction) vs. meaning based or more image-based word combinations…?
2 The dilemma is how to write about the mystery without destroying it… This is what I know about poetry–– it is the shape on which my observations and longings are formed.
3 As a narrator, I frequently feel unreliable. Sometimes I read my own writing and I don’t know who wrote it. Might I write as someone for whom kindness is an instinct? My poems can tell stories which are true but not mine.
4 Poems as individual units and also as parts of a collection: I’m wondering about the process of putting together a poetry collection (or different ways of conceptualizing a whole made up of these individual poems or sets of poems). [I’m] wondering how much of this is determined in the initial writings vs. while you are putting together a collection… I can’t quite formulate a question, but my poems have been coming in sets for a while.
5 When / how to try to structure poems in relation to each other (rather than just as individual units)?
6 How is it going? (Depression? Energy? All energy in poetry is your guide). Here is a poem I like by Brenda:
Street Corner by Brenda Hillman
There was an angle
where I went for
centuries not as a
self or feature but
exhaled as a knowing
brick tradesmen engineered for
blunt or close recall;
soundly there, meanings grew
past a second terror
finding their way as
evenings, hearing the peppermint
noise of sparrows landing
like spare dreams of
citizens where abstraction and
the real could merge.
We had crossed the
red forest; we had
recognized a weird lodge.
we could have said
song outlasts poetry, words
are breath bricks to
support the guardless singing
project. We could have
meant song outlasts poetry.
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Other excellent poets were at the conference. Here is a taste of Forrest Gander and Arthur Sze:
A fragment from prize-Wining Poet and translator, Forrest Gander:
Citrus Freeze by Forrest Gander
To the north, along Orange Blossom Trail,
thick breath of sludge fires.
Smoke rises all night, a spilled genie
who loves the freezing trees
but cannot save them.
Snow fine as blown spiders.
The news: nothing……
Words from Forrest: “Art is not the waging of taste only nor the exercise of argument, but like love the experience of vision, the revelation of hiddenness.” ~~ “Perhaps eros is the fundamental condition of that expansion of meaning necessary to poetry, and of cognition itself. The father of western logic, Socrates, claimed that he had only one real talent: to recognize at once the lover and the beloved“…. from essay: Nymph Stick Insect: Observations... http://forrestgander.com/poetry
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A poem and some words from poet Arthur Sze:
The Shapes of Leaves by Arthur Sze
Ginkgo, cottonwood, pin oak, sweet gum, tulip tree:
our emotions resemble leaves and alive
to their shapes we are nourished.
Have you felt the expanse and contours of grief
along the edges of a big Norway maple?
Have you winced at the orange flare
searing the curves of a curling dogwood?
I have seen from the air logged islands,
each with a network of branching gravel roads,
and felt a moment of pure anger, aspen gold.
I have seen sandhill cranes moving in an open field,
a single white whooping crane in the flock.
And I have traveled along the contours
of leaves that have no name. Here
where the air is wet and the light is cool,
I feel what others are thinking and do not speak,
I know pleasure in the veins of a sugar maple,
I am living at the edge of a new leaf.
Sze said it is important to study poetry for many reasons. ~~ “Regardless of whether you go on to become a writer, all students need to understand language,” he noted, adding poetry is the most compressed and expressive writing form. “(Poets and aspiring poets) use a small number of words to create a large effect.” ~~ “Poetry asks us to slow down and experience deeply that connection to ourselves and our world.”
Newsflash! Laura has two photographs in the recent print issue of TRICYCLE MAGAZINE!!
Laura Plageman, my talented daughter-in-law, just won a major international photography competition. She was selected from the ten Hot Shots of 2011. The “Hey, Hot Shot!” award gives her $10,000, a solo exhibition and two years representation at the Jen Bekman Gallery in NYC.
Response #1 to Print of Thicket, 2006
I have to do the mom-brag here, because I love her work and I know how difficult it is to be recognized in the arts – especially photography. Here are some of her photos, for you to enjoy. I need to mention that exactly one week before winning this prize, she gave birth to a beautiful, delicate daughter named Maeve Clementine. What a perfect tiny being, a sister to Oona, who is going on three! Thanks to Laura and her husband Ammon, I now have two beautiful granddaughters. This is a feast of love, harmony, and beauty. I am so delighted that Laura is rewarded for her on-going creativity at a time when nursing and fussing with every-day practicalities can leave most mothers feeling far from the creative muse. A description of the work:
A fold in the print, when re-photographed, serves as a tool to deflect and distribute light, for instance. The crisp details accentuate and enhance the evident artist’s touches.The images in Plageman’s series touch upon nature and “the hand of man” in both a literal and figurative sense, while simultaneously making the elements within the picture—the documented, the fabricated, the manipulated—meld and interact with one another to create an entirely new landscape, an entirely new creation.
Response to Print of Inspiration Point, California, 2011
Laura Plageman is an artist and educator who lives and works in Oakland, CA. Her images explore the relationships between the process of image making, photographic truth and distortion, and the representation of landscape. She is interested in making pictures that examine the natural world as a scene of mystery, beauty and constant change—transformed both by human presence and by its own design. Plageman has exhibited her work in San Francisco, New York, Portland and Galway, Ireland. She earned a BA at Wesleyan University (Middletown, CT) and an MFA from the California College of the Arts (San Francisco, CA). She has taught photography at Wesleyan.
This photograph is from a series called “Not Your Ordinary Garden Variety Plants.” It was in a show in NYC some years ago and Laura’s theme was Defiance. The weeds represent defiant vegetation, while the graffiti on the wall makes up the human counterpart. I have a print from this series on my living room wall.
I’ve been at Ragdale Foundation residency as a writer for the last two weeks. Tomorrow I leave this succulent green view from my window in the historic Barnhouse, the quiet brick courtyard below, familiar yellow walls, the ample desk, and the comfortable bed piled with papers, for my life in California, with its warm afternoons and demands on my time.
kitchen remodel, Ragdale main house
Every night but Saturday, Linda prepares a careful meal. Last night stuffed eggplant, gluten-free biscuits (she baked), salad and a chocolate-y desert. There’s wine, for those who wish. Barbara and Allison – both artists and Brett – non-fiction writer join me for dinner, the social moment of the day. Roland was here for the first week while he put the finishing touches on the renovated main house. Howard Van Doren Shaw, the architect made this his summer home around 1900. The restoration is complete and beautiful. Writers will stay there in the coming months.
For two weeks I’ve had a routine. I write, then wrap myself against the forty-something degree chill, and walk on the prairie trails, write and eat and write. At night I choose a book from the vast library and read. Tonight it will be Mommies Who Drink, resident Brett Paesel’s funny funny book, and New and Select Poems by Gregory Orr, poems written in the seventies.
Barbara, me, Brett, Allison
Allison’s beautiful pieces light up the wall behind the 4 of us. My work has blossomed in this gentle place. Today I just sat down and wrote a poem. Straight through. An hour and fifty minutes. Usually a poem will take me all day long, in fits and starts. Me running down the stairs to print it out, then back for more revisions. Here is a sample:
Tell me darling Fatima, something about
separation. That weaning you are named for is good.
We are all homesick for before.
…The milk of knowing has nourished me.
Separation has passed through me.
I am home.
Regin Igloria - Director of Artists in Residence
There’s a strange thing about this place. Along the straight long trail, I see the roof of the hospital where I was born. I lived here 21 years after that, and haven’t been back since the early seventies. Some part of me is at home here every day. Lilies of the Valley like my mother had around the back porch, the old gas lights on Greenbay Road. Elm trees. Thank you Ragdale!
Henry T. Dunn: Rossetti Reading Proofs of Sonnets...
THE CULT OF BEAUTY: THE VICTORIAN AVANT-GARDE 1860-1900 At the Legion of Honor Museum, San Francisco February 18, 2012 – June 17, 2012. It’s time for some moments looking at beautiful art. My friend Moon Granoff had come in from Philadelphia, and today, a rainy afternoon was perfect museum time. This genre pulls you right in ––
Moon marveling at Aubrey Beardsley
I followed a thread of looking at art that showed private places, quiet rooms, or intimate moments; close ups, with the focus on the mouth of a beautiful girl, or a beautiful design like the wall with Arabic and Andalusian designs. My photos are stealth, as the guards are frequent and vigilant and the signs say “no photos!” So I didn’t get all the names. But here are some things that were beautiful to see. The painting of the room (above) has Rossetti, a painter and poet reading poetry to a friend in his drawing room.
Rossetti: Bocca Baciata
<> Here is a stunning picture of Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s mistress, Fanny Cornforth. The title of the picture (1859) Bocca Baciata translates “Lips That Have Been Kissed.”
James McNeill Whistler’s 1862 Symphony in White No. 1: The White Girl (notorious for its inclusion in Paris’s famed Salon des Refusés of 1863), showing his paramour and muse Jo Hiffernan. Wow, is this beautiful! [See below]. It seems to stand larger than life. There is the relaxed abstract brushwork of the painting – except for the hands and face – similar to Manet. That is hard to see in art books. Whistler was an American who spent time in Bohemian France and England.
Laus Veneris (detail) by Burne-Jones 1868 seems to have come out of a poem by Swinburne, written in 1868 called From the Hill of Venus, which is about Tannhauser and his knights (see background) at the legendary home of Venus. These are her attendants, with the knights in the background. From the poem:
Laus Veneris (detail)
Between her lips the steam of them is sweet
The languor in her eyes of many lyres… …
Her beds are full of perfumes and sad sound,
Her doors are made with music, and barred round
With sighing and with laughter and with tears…
The show has many art objects, furniture, interior design, tea sets and a fantastic iron gate. What a time for beauty! But it was the light in the paintings that I carried home with me. Enjoy! <> <>
Wednesday night many who loved and respected Solomon joined in the music at The Grand Night Club in San Francisco, bringing a sold-out crowd together for a benefit party. All proceeds including, door, bar, and a silent auction will go to The Nicole and Solomon Fund. Nicole was injured in Thailand a month ago in the accident that took Solomon’s life. She has just had back surgery, and is not supposed to be on her feet for six to eight weeks.
It was a full-out Solomon Party! 800 tickets were sold and the line – at one point – was 2 blocks long. Grief flowed into joy, which then seemed to infect the room, as the music played and took us on into the stream of music he inspired.
I stayed on the left side balcony above the dance floor near Nicole. She spent the evening greeting many, many of her friends and Solomon’s. There she sat, glowing, meeting everyone with strength and love. Solomon would be so proud of her! She stayed at the party until 1:00 AM.
Nicole at the Grand
Hugo Gamboa, one of the owners of The Grand posted to facebook: “I have to admit last nights benefit for Solomon and Nicole was the best event I’ve ever been a part of… So amazing to see so many of our SF nightlife friends and family together to honor Solomon & Nicole. We’ll miss him…”
Another club owner, who has put on city events for 2 decades, called it “the best party I’ve ever been to.”
Leila Burrows did a beautiful job of organizing every part of the evening. She writes to us: “I felt humbled in the presence of so much love. Such wonderful, beautiful people. And music. May there always be music. I miss Solomon every day. But I can see how his spirit is with us.”
Solomon’s brother, Ammon, opened the evening and had to coax the PA system into decent sound. I’ve been listening to Aretha, Stevie Wonder and Michael Jackson a lot lately, so I loved that he included one of my favorites by Aretha in the set – I Say A Little Prayer:
The moment I wake up
Before I put on my makeup
I say a little prayer for you
While combing my hair, now,
And wondering what dress to wear, now,
I say a little prayer for you
Forever, forever, you’ll stay in my heart
And I will love you
Forever, forever, we never will part
Oh, how I’ll love you….
Chris Clouse on guitar and mic, Ryan Lucero on drums and Dave Kim on violin played a great early set. Had the room up and dancing, followed by DJs Justin Hoffman, Don Lynch, Ean Golden and Mei Lwun, and Jazzy Jeff. Enjoy the photos!
I admire Jamaica as a word-crafter. I admire her bravery in the edgy political and taboo subjects she offers us. Her beautiful singing voice and her Spoken Word invokes her beloved Hawaii. At eighteen she was invited to recite her poetry at the White House for the Obamas. That kind of opportunity for some – that moment of fame – is a flashy feather in the hat. For Jamaica, it seems to have sobered her, given her a chance to be a true and serious artist of the spoken word. She seems to have dedicated herself to speaking truth to power. I have written of her before. I met her two years ago at a Stanford Slam. Here she is again.
Jamaica at the Loft
Jamaica Osorio at the Loft Literary Center
in Minneapolis December 3, 2011. This is a half hour piece on Youtube with Jamaica.
The last poem of the evening is THREE CROWS A WEDDING Spoken Word. Here is an excerpt.
One crow means sorrow
two crows mean joy,
three crows a wedding,
four crows a boy, five crows mean silver, six crows mean gold,
seven crows a secret that’s never been told…
… Do stars leave traces of the places they’ve traveled
Do the other stars remember them when their gone
or are there enough to fill the darkness left
Are people like stars,
easily forgotten unless in constellations
Do the ones that make pretty pictures ever die
If I was a piece of the big dipper would I be immortalized
Shine there even after my space was filled with night…
Jamaica, apologies for punctuation errors… I leave for the islands tomorrow (on business) and will be sending you ALOHA and mahalo for all you do and are!
Last night I had the privilege of reading my recently finished poems in Santa Cruz. It was a fortunate thing, since quite a few writers-of-poetry were in attendance, as well as old, dear friends and new. Thanks to Len Anderson for attending and giving me his book of poems, Invented by the Night.
I learned which material strong and heard the ones which need some power or clarification. It felt like I’m at the beginning of a new writing time. With the poems that have classic meter – like iambic pentameter – I’m not sure that rocking motion translates verbally as well as it does for the eye on the page. Here is new one about Fatima, the daughter of Prophet Muhammad, that surprised me with its directness, given the strange, surreal subject.
Written there
One fool for love wrote words where none should be.
Just scribbled on the leg of God’s own throne:
Fatima, guide for women of the worlds ~
This writing: could it be a dream or dare?
Dare mark the throne? Audacious, wild conceit!
A place so deep, so high, what eye can read?
The hadith tells the words but not the scribe.
The throne – it is the heart: and poetrythe pen. Fatima, they say, can intercede
for every woman at her time of death;
demise from childbirth, sickness, or a fall,
each bone-yard bride who asks her – please – please help.
She is the guide, a mercy seen as if
she rides a pure white horse across death’s bridge
to lead the supplicant to Judgment Day
and intercede with God on her behalf.
She’s Best of Women, Adam told Rasoul,
the taste of universes on his tongue.
NOTES: Hadith (the source of this material on Prophet Muhammad and his family) : Arabic source from a paper on Fatima by Christopher P. Clohessy. Rasul ~ a title for Prophet Muhammad. Adam refers to the first man or “Prophet Adam.”
Just added: excerpt of my Radio interview with Joe Milford, see tab “PRESS” at the top of this page.
When you google the WCUPC, it’s not easy to find. Even spelling it out, you might come across phrases like, “Traditional Poetic Craft.” TPC is a password for the door, if there was a door, that reads: Enter to Study with the Formalists. Once inside the workshop, you’ll discover the metrical music and the rhythms of poetry are squeezed into technical vocabulary –– tetrameter, scansion, numbers of feet per line. Cut a line and you have a hemstitch. Enjambment is to be used with care, so as not to take away the impact of the pentameter in a sonnet. Iambic pentameter carries the load of centuries of poetry with it, and is perfect for shouting from a stage, as in Shakespearian theater. (Thanks, Andrew!)
Kim Addonizio reading
Here you can stock up on implements for the tool kit that aids precision in writing. The intricate formal dance of poetics is not for the timid writer. Timothy Steele, word-master and workshop leader, writes: Knowledge of meter will promote a surer ear for rhythm and will alert one to useful arrangements of sound and speech. This view begins to color how I perceive the music and organization of the poetic phrase. I feel as though I’ve been drawn into the Tango dance world by an expert dancer, and now all I hear and see is Tango… Here are some champions of the art worth dancing with.
Robert Frost. A favorite of mine is Acquainted with the Night – in flawless terza rima pentameter.
Richard Wilber is a wonderful poet, and was celebrated at the conference for his ninetieth birthday. The Ride, takes the reader on a ride with the short three and four foot lines: …I rode with magic ease/ At a quick, unstumbling trot,/ Through shattering vacancies/ On into what was not….
A.E. Stallings (Alicia) is a young and esteemed poet. Her poems are terrific; she balances a relaxed flow with traditional elements, as in this from Lullaby near the Railroad Tracks: Go back to sleep. The hour is small./ A freight train between stations/ shook you out of sleep with all/ it’s lonely ululations… [see interview link below.]
Kim Bridgford*, Conference Director, is attentive, friendly, and was a constant presence. I enjoyed seeing her take in each event with grace and openness. It turns out Kim was in The class I took at WCU in 2004 with Fred Chappell. In my notes, I came across this poem she workshopped, then included in her book: Instead of Maps.
From her sonnet: Robert Frost: You seemed to know the most about the dark,/ But softened it so we would listen, still/ As leaves before they show they’re vulnerable/ To wind. You seemed to know the grief of work,/ And also joy depending on the weather…
I want to commend Kim for bringing together the Hip-hop / Rap community and the conference poets. Russel Goings, author and crusader for black empowerment, said in the panel, Anthology of Rap– “Do we have a marriage here?”(of genres). He was answered by the commentator, Farai Chideya (multimedia journalist on TV and radio), “I think it’s a first date.” The “rhythm and words folks” from New York City, especially the amazing Freestyle Queen, Toni Blackman – Musical Ambassador, performer and writer – brought fresh, delicious word music. From her website: “She’s all heart, all rhythm, all song, all power, a one-woman revolution of poetry and microphone. An award-winning artist, her steadfast work and commitment to hip-hop led the U.S. Department of State to select her to work as the first ever hip-hop artist to work as an American Cultural Specialist.” May Toni be back next year, teaching and sharing the difference, for example, between RAP and SPOKEN WORD.
The Hip Hop / Rap folks including Toni Blackman (L), Andrew DuBois, Russel Goings (blue shirt), and Farai Chideya with Kim Bridgeford
I’m going to be following the direction of the conference with interest. And, it’s time to get Patricia Smith on faculty! Thumbs up for WCUPC.
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*Kim Bridgford, is the editor of the online magazine Mezzo Cammin (www.mezzocammin.com), and the founder of the Mezzo Cammin Women Poets Timeline Project, launched last year at the National Museum of Women in the Arts in Washington; it will eventually be the largest database of women poets in the world. She is the author of five collections of poetry: Undone, nominated for the Pulitzer Prize; Instead of Maps, nominated for the Poets’ Prize, and others.
More on these people: Youtube Toni Blackman: “Hip-hop is tagging your heart, not walls….”