Upon meeting the vivid, lovely and spirited Susan Hayden, you’d doubt that the word “shy” existed anywhere in her lexicon. Yet it dwells in her internal complexity, a kind of haunting vulnerability that ultimately cements your trust in her generous warmth. READ MORE
People’s Sonnet #1 by Luis Rodriguez A shadow hangs where my country should glow. Despite glories shaped as skyscrapers or sound. More wars, more prisons, less safe, still low. Massive cities teeter on shifting ground. Glittering lights, music tracks hide the craven. TV, movies, books so we can forget. Countless worn out, debt-laden and slaving; Their soul-derived destinies unmet. Give me NASCAR, lowriders, Hip Hop, the Blues. Give me Crooklyn, cowboys, cool jazz, cholos. Give me libraries, gardens of the muse. Give me songs over sidewalks, mad solos. Big America improperly sized. Give me your true value, realized. Excerpt from Borrowed Bones (Northwestern University Press, READ MORE
Leaving his past behind, Rodriguez, with the help of a mentor, recognized his deep hunger for something new and powerful to replace the emptiness and suicide road he was on, “with enough righteous anger, not rage, but anger with eyes, with direction—remember rage is blind—against whatever was keeping me from making a way in this world, be it personal, familial, or social.” READ MORE
“It’s fantastic to be a poet in L.A., and to be an Angeleno.” That’s right, our country’s chosen wordsmith is one of our city’s own. Amanda Gorman was born near Los Angeles International Airport, fitting considering she has wings rivaling any aircraft’s. Her path to poet laureate began “at the cross-section of diametrically opposed neighborhoods; READ MORE
We the people live in a less than perfect union
That accuses the vulnerable and never the top class and race
When children are ‘illegal’ and intolerance bans humans
I wonder who ‘we the people’ are in the first place. READ MORE
My country’s doormat
reads: SORRY, NO VACANCIES
I want it to read:
YOU’RE WELCOME HERE, DO COME IN
Make yourself at home. READ MORE
For the new year, I won’t count it down as a
uranium bomb. Every open window is a
cause to be kind. The last days came like a plague ship over the
know, so I’m swimming out to meet it. Let us reach the season of
desert bloom, with angels on all four sides of the barricade, let us
outlive the wolves. READ MORE
I’ve accomplished a lot
Because you’ve been by my side
And you’ve helped me see life
As this one crazy ride
So thank you
For all that you do
You’re the best Dad there is
And I’m lucky to have you READ MORE
This year’s DADA theme, “EYE FOR A LIE,” features work that examines the concept of “fake” everything—questioning the very essence of truth in what some have labeled the “post-truth” era.
We caught up with Linda Albertano to get the low-down about DADA, what it means, what it does, how she became a DADAist, and the theme of this year’s new LA-DADA book release (Maintenant11). READ MORE
The Reasonable Woman is a hope chest, a locked cabinet.
The Reasonable Woman is pleasant enough.
The Reasonable Woman is the converse of sex.
The Reasonable Woman is durable good, a sound diagnosis.
The Reasonable Woman is a subordinate clause.
The Reasonable Woman is childproof, although Heidi is already up to her knee.
The Reasonable Woman is a skillet, a war bond.
The Reasonable Woman is a fugue heard on the intercom.
The Reasonable Woman is a graph of stock options, the percentage of return.
The Reasonable Woman is open to suggestion.
The Reasonable Woman is a string bean, a cauliflower, a field of potatoes. READ MORE
Photo by Alexis Rhone Fancher
As a poet, Linda represented Los Angeles at the One World Poetry Festival in Amsterdam, and she’s featured on the Venice Poetry Wall at Windward Ave. with such local notables as Jim Morrison, Viggo Mortensen and Exene Cervenka.
Virtue rides into town on a
convertible Clydesdale. She’s wrapped
and is eating an apple concoction.
Ah, Virtue! They want
are so succulent! They want to use
for purposes of personal
adornment. They want to pin
wholesome and lovely, to their lapels.
Read more of this poem at: READ MORE