Today is the Big Event April 27th 2011-We’ll see you there!
Save the Date!
Sixth Annual Poems Under the Dome
Wednesday, April 27th 2011
5:30-8:00 p.m.
This Unique Open Mic Celebration of National Poetry Month takes place inside San Francisco’s beautiful City Hall!Our Primary Host is Diamond Dave Whitaker
Our Poet Laureate, Diane di Prima, will be the First Open Mic Reader!
Wednesday, April 27th 2011
San Francisco’s City Hall
#1 Dr. Carlton B. Goodlett Place
5:30-8:00 p.m.
Contact: EKKEITH@HOTMAIL.COM or DMNDV@HOTMAIL.COM for more information
Very Cool !!!!
Very cool!
Lets get it out there
I’ll be there and so will every poet in the city. Come one come all, hear ye hear ye!!
I’m coming.
looking forward to reading with you
Frindly reminder…want to do the sets. Will add your link.
Love the way you come pout to the venues to share your work and give a slot.
Like your style…
“Justice”
See you there
Thanks for your giving, it is very helpful
Great show Diamond
Congratulation!
Planet NEW World thanks you
All the best
- Arthur
Bread for my enemies
Cause haters are my
haters are my
haters are my street team
I’m not the most forgiving person in the world but at a pot-luck of all our lover-esque griefs
how ca n I help but genuflect all my existential melodies?
A mythology born on a note
Water held in a fist of sand
Cataclysm shocks it into self-definition
and turns it into wine in a chalice
You ask about the god who does not define
Now I must recite a novel when it was just a song you sat through
Cold and snow clear the street of misery and still religion chooses to exist
Dreamers are frightened into cubby holes too small for book-worms to move through
Describing your vision without introspection is like dressing a forest of statues in rags from a septic tank
“Give it up to the most High” croons the choir
Taoists say the performer lives the highest life
So I imagine god smoking a hookah
“The sky is an ocean
Open your mouth
A river of wisdom flows
so you know it is not your own”
“It is what you make it
it is what it is”
My poems are hollah-grams that haunt me.
They smell edible and nutritious, no matter who is sprinting today.
Vampires crawl the halls clothed in your greatest essays
and your sophistry acts as scarves.
Poems stub their toes on literary-cadavers.
7Cowards make a killer.
There’s thousands of you and I’m still stirring
Human I’m light
Entitled to rights
prick me do I not reproduce as trillions have
and some still might
If I listen to him as if he were a team and as if she were a family
I’d recall that 11 different dimensions carry on as we do
Orbits walk their planets through a motion
Asteroids flick you a text
Earth becomes a wobbling egg
And time expresses itself as an ant moving its leg
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