…and she made me cry. I came in late and she made fun of my friends and me for trying to sneak in quietly, as if we didn’t have to sneak across the entire room to find the empty seats. But that’s not why I cried. I’ve been digging around for the poem that did it. I sat in my seat, hugging my friends to my side as I pretended my shirt collar wasn’t soaked. So of course I had to buy her book and get it signed.
And she’s hilarious. After she made me bawl, she made me bust out laughing.
I love how unapologetic these performers are on stage…but I think that’s what makes them so amazing. They don’t take themselves so seriously.
OH! I found it!
Didn’t catch what the poem was called, but it’s after her memoir excerpt.
Later, my friends and I talked about it and how not everyone who has a vagina identifies with it in such a way, or identifies with period-having the same way. I was impressed because of how she made me feel, regardless of my own vagina/period/etc relationship. And damn. She made me feel.
Feel free to engage further. I’d love to hear more about her, and any other poets if you guys have em to suggest. And I’m writing something else to put up here, never fear.
at my school yesterday. I had to leave his performance early, but he was amazing. Super funny and cool. Wish I coulda talked to him. I’m going to go on a video binge, but this is one of my favourite of his poems:
And this weekend I’m going to see Staceyann Chin. So I’m basically getting inundated in this craft. My brain is tickled with inspiration.
On that note, I discovered the voicenote feature on my phone while half asleep, so I can start recording my poetry-snippets aloud…which is one step closer to actually finishing/speaking poems. [last night was one about lovers and breakfast. maybe I should go to bed hungry more often.]
…since the first time I saw you naked. Since the night you ripped off your shirt, stuck your boobs in my face and said, ‘touch them.'”
And with those words, I was hooked. Andrea Gibson’s poem, “How it Ends” was the first thing I remember hearing by her. That, and Ashes, featuring Chris Pureka. For a while, I only listened to those two. Then I actually went to her website. I heard “Blue Blanket” and felt my heart stop. (I’ve posted it previously here.) Then came “Anything,” which resonated at the moment. I was so angry, then. She justified my anger. And then, with “Say Yes,” she soothed it away and gave me something to work toward while I couldn’t work for myself.
Andrea Gibson is an artist for the people. Her poems are not archaic or overly abstract. Her command of figurative language is amazing, but I particularly like what she does with sound. I’ve never been very good at poems that are meant to mean something by the shape they take on the page, but I have seen some pretty cool things. Sound is where you get me, because it’s unconscious. Her rhymes are well placed and unpredictable and she drags me all over my conscience until I’m left with what I feel in my deepest…deep.
One of my term papers was about how she handles social justice poetry and why it’s so effective, so feel free to chat with me about it. It’s possible that I love her ‘love’ poems even more. She gets feelings right.
I read this shortly after obsessing over spoken word poetry in general:
“I recall that one time he told the people to read the poems out loud because the spoken word was the seed of love in the darkness.” – Tomas Rivera, …And the Earth Did Not Devour Him
There’s something extremely special about listening to a poem out loud. But not every poem, and not in every place. Poetry readings often lacked meaning for me, and for the longest time, I felt distanced from spoken word poetry because I assumed it was poets reading poems in a sitdown area, stuffy, snapping. The end. I didn’t realise I had been slowly taking in little bits of spoken word. Poems a girl I knew had recorded, youtube videos about biracial hair. I would be fascinated, enjoy them for their brief moments, and then carry on. They inspired a little more poetry from me, but not much. That’s been a couple years ago.
Maybe it’s because I wasn’t ready to love it then, and I’m not complaining. It came around when I needed it most and Andrea is definitely a good person to listen to when you hit a rough patch. She’s funny and serious, talks love and revolution, inspires and grounds you at the same time. She doesn’t pretend she’s not as lost as the rest of us, but she does know it’s better to be lost together.
If you want to gush, or would like recommendations, or wanna know about my academic work so concerning, please comment. Also, I’m looking to get further into spoken word. I’m going to see Staceyann Chin this month at MBLGTACC, I believe. Are there any other heavy hitters I should look into?
Peace, y’all.
(My most played poems: Maybe I Need You, Ashes, Crab Apple Pirates, Photograph, and Stay. Check em out.)
Changing Shapes 