It was a full day of many firsts. Morning with the Juilliard actors. Afternoon with my newspaper kids in the Bronx. My third gig of the day landed me at College of Staten Island where I was to present poems and answer questions for two hours.
Now that I had a tangible purpose, this was my first time venturing to Staten Island--home of Wu-tang Clan who I danced to in Denver last week, danced hard.
At the station when I asked some women where to purchase ferry tickets, they answered it was free. I was startled and pleased. Look, I hadn't even arrived in Staten Island yet and already I felt like a tourist, a tourist in my own town. I would later learn that Guiliani, who also hailed from Staten Island explains the free ferries.
My friend Tyehimba, who invited me to read at his teaching institution was there on the other side, waiting beside his motorbike Betty, an extra helmet in his hand for me. First time in Staten Island, first time riding on a motorbike. I prepared myself for this cherry pop.
Exhilerating, vulnerable. The only two words I can use to describe riding on the back of a motorbike. At first I held on to Tyehimba for dear life, loving the breeze flying through my open helmet, making my eyes water. As I got used to the ride I began to loosen my grip on him. I knew that we would be goners if a car were to clip our back wheel. That too sharp a turn could obliterate what I know as my left hip. I learned that to ride a motorbike is to not be afraid to die.
College of Staten Island has a lovely sprawling campus full of green field and new buildings. There were posters on the doors with my face on them, advertising tonight's poetry event--two hours with yours truly. The gig was held in a school cafe, a nice vibe. The last college gig I had was in December at Rutgers-Camden, so it was nice to be in front of a college crowd again. They were a nice listening audience and responsive when they found it necessary.
My feature almost entirely consisted of odes and I rattled them off one after the other with personalizing banter in between. It was good to have that amount of time because I got to speak extensively about my friend Kenneth before sharing an ode I wrote concerning our friendship "Ode to a Flower Denied," my second time reading it in public. Overall, it felt great, as always, to share my obsession with a group of curious listeners, many of whom were wonderful enough to buy my CD's and chapbooks after the show.
Afterward, Tyehimba was kind enough to offer me a ride home on his bike. That meant the expressway, the Verrazano bridge--again, my first time. Rain fell lightly. It was us, Betty and the elements, the stunning Manhattan skyline. It all seemed within reach. And the cold air rushing at me was enough to remind me of how achingly alive it feels to be me.
Now that I had a tangible purpose, this was my first time venturing to Staten Island--home of Wu-tang Clan who I danced to in Denver last week, danced hard.
At the station when I asked some women where to purchase ferry tickets, they answered it was free. I was startled and pleased. Look, I hadn't even arrived in Staten Island yet and already I felt like a tourist, a tourist in my own town. I would later learn that Guiliani, who also hailed from Staten Island explains the free ferries.
My friend Tyehimba, who invited me to read at his teaching institution was there on the other side, waiting beside his motorbike Betty, an extra helmet in his hand for me. First time in Staten Island, first time riding on a motorbike. I prepared myself for this cherry pop.
Exhilerating, vulnerable. The only two words I can use to describe riding on the back of a motorbike. At first I held on to Tyehimba for dear life, loving the breeze flying through my open helmet, making my eyes water. As I got used to the ride I began to loosen my grip on him. I knew that we would be goners if a car were to clip our back wheel. That too sharp a turn could obliterate what I know as my left hip. I learned that to ride a motorbike is to not be afraid to die.
College of Staten Island has a lovely sprawling campus full of green field and new buildings. There were posters on the doors with my face on them, advertising tonight's poetry event--two hours with yours truly. The gig was held in a school cafe, a nice vibe. The last college gig I had was in December at Rutgers-Camden, so it was nice to be in front of a college crowd again. They were a nice listening audience and responsive when they found it necessary.
My feature almost entirely consisted of odes and I rattled them off one after the other with personalizing banter in between. It was good to have that amount of time because I got to speak extensively about my friend Kenneth before sharing an ode I wrote concerning our friendship "Ode to a Flower Denied," my second time reading it in public. Overall, it felt great, as always, to share my obsession with a group of curious listeners, many of whom were wonderful enough to buy my CD's and chapbooks after the show.
Afterward, Tyehimba was kind enough to offer me a ride home on his bike. That meant the expressway, the Verrazano bridge--again, my first time. Rain fell lightly. It was us, Betty and the elements, the stunning Manhattan skyline. It all seemed within reach. And the cold air rushing at me was enough to remind me of how achingly alive it feels to be me.
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