A bit over a year ago (see photo above) was the last time I read in a real reading. I’ve done open mics since I’ve been to Seattle, but it isn’t the same as having your name in a program. I’m not quite sure how to go about arranging readings here, or getting in on other readings. I also seem to think I haven’t written much to read. I’ve almost avoided reading pieces from my chapbook really. Naomi Gal told us once to view our work as written by our little sisters. We aren’t the same people today as we were yesterday, and tomorrow will be someone new again. Looking at Letters Through Glass I couldn’t agree more.
However, I think it’s important to move beyond the When of my work and into the Work of it. Yesterday a friend asked me to read to him over the phone, and I found myself dodging and weaving. When did I lose my tongue? Once I realized what I was doing I read, and sure enough, a few lines in I found the cant that feels familiar. The Poet Voice.
I think I need the Poet Voice; the thing that separates my daily speech from my text. I can feel the words sharpen and focus in my mouth and I like the taste.