Thursday, January 19, 2012

My poetry reading nights

Where you read from an unfolded square,
drawn as a handkerchief
to catch my tears
and blow my nose.

Where you whisper
prayers to the gods of life
and rattle charms of beaded and feathered gourds
against the chains of death,

Where your hands press open the pages
awarded satin ribbon markers,
the corners creased
by fingers licked with a chocolate tongue,

Where men chant
as softly as the mother 
who closes her eyes to sing
to an infant in the dark,

Where women bare the shame of 
irregular butts and bloody panties,
and where I have to imagine you 
in your wrinkled and sweaty underwear

just to have the courage to enter here…..

Where a slap in the face
might as well be on my upended newborn butt
and I still find the courage to see you
in your wrinkled underwear,  

just to read to you,   here,   tonight….                                         1-19-2012   DGG 


  1. Ah yes, I must start going again. It was always smoke in my eyes.

  2. is def interesting at poetry readings...depending on the crowd....its so much fun though...

  3. Another poet once told me, after her reading, “You know, you write the poems when they come to you and then you hope that at least one person will at least pay attention to the end of at least one poem.” You clearly are the audience poets dream of reading to. If it takes courage to bare one’s self in poetry, it is an honor to read to a critical listener such as yourself. It does take courage to enter, and we are honored to sit before you while you read to us.

    Thank you for this insightful look at a gathering that lifts itself, its participants, outside ordinary space and time.

  4. Poetry reading(s) should be a parade of the oft thought never expressed shamelessly.