in my new days of friendship & local explorations, I've realized the preponderance of white "hip" cafés playing Black music of specific decades. Hip, meaning not ornate but thoughtful & fair-to-unreasonably priced. Certain meaning only "avant-garde" contemporary or decidedly classic retro, sample fodder. Hip-Hop is a dicey distinction. The other "gems" range from vaguely predatory country/rock songs or neo-folk orchestral Amerikkkana. The title of the poem is being "the only nigga in the coffeeshop hears her name over the speakers". I'm not writing that one.
Do you ever see a face that makes you question if we are all made equal? My mommy used to say some folks should smile more just to improve their real estate. I knew I never wanted to be a corner house. I like living at dead ends. One of the streets I grew up on was essentially one block. One side a house, the other the Boulevard & the University of Southern California. I want to be where I am, indefinitely. Residing I mean. The large "place" I am seems to be steadily expanding. The further I venture I see my atmosphere has already touched.
my cards signal material pivots & the presence of cycles. this is the year I acquire new knowledge & agility concerning time/being. I seem to have been positioned to shift, brake, & disrupt some cycles, to better with justice. My challenges aren't around my direction but the ways I make matters & care for myself. My body is in need & I'm still taking care of her.
I've been looking at my words differently. I love seeing what I can trace of myself over time. This is the longest I've worked on a manuscript. I feel so fresh & exiled about this writing. Maybe I'm my biggest fan.
I miss something. People. A person or two. I thought caring more for myself meant more people to share my newness with. So many people I've called friends have wormed away. Success can shift capacity. Semi-related so many have (un?)knowingly linked up with venom & bile, I worry if politics exist in poetry. I've decided to eat crow + grovel this year for publication. I want blood money. Legacy publication. I'm no freer hungry & interrogating the underpaid. I've lost more friends than the opportunity & that bothers me for the wrong reasons.
everywhere I go in real life I have fans. readers, gawkers, but fans. there is third-person magic when I enter a classroom lecture hall or performance space. In some cities, I walk down the street & get recognized. I want my boyfriend to make fun of me for it. I can't date a fan but he needs to recognize that I'm a star.
Temptation came up today in my spread. In the spiritual chakra. I am going to challenge my discipline. Something about stretching. This is also the devil in other decks. What sinister needs will I have to attend to this year?