My cat thinks I sleep a lot.




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Lonely, Lonesome, Blue

by Taylor Mali

I love my mornings with my quiet and tea
and nothing pressing that I have to do.
There's a way that silence envelopes me

while the sun is rising quietly.
This body may be old but the day is new.
I love my mornings with my quiet and tea.

God grant me the wisdom and serenity
and courage to last this whole day through.
Sometimes the silence envelopes me

and I stand stock still like a rock or a tree.
Later I'll want nothing but to be with you,
but I love my mornings with my quiet and tea.

This is new and beautiful territory—
I used to get lonely, lonesome, blue—
but I've learned to let silence envelop me

and dwell in equanimity.
This truth is small but no less true:
I love my mornings with my quiet and tea,
the way the silence envelopes me.


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The new Urbana CD is available for sale!

Urbana's 6th Best Of CD is now available. Showcasing the best performances to come through the Bowery Poetry Club in the last two years, including group pieces from Team Urbana 2007 and Team Urbana 2008 (2008 National Poetry Slam Group Piece Champions)! Also included are remarkable solo pieces by Jeffery McDaniel, Andrea Gibson, Derrick Brown, Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz, Shappy, and Taylor Mali. Only $10!

A very organized student



What I love about this list is that the student has given herself checkboxes so that she can keep track of what she has completed ("7:30 Library" and "J Block Posters") and what she has left to do ("D Block 11 TM," which means meet Taylor Mali in Room 11, where I took this picture.

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My reading with Galway Kinnell on April 29th, 2009

First of all, if you're planning to attend, get there early. Several things have conspired to give this pairing a little more publicity than most so I'm afraid it's going to be mad packed. I'd say 7:15 pm might be early enough to get you a seat. Might be.

Secondly, don't forget that students with any kind of ID get in for half price ($6 instead of $12). Furthermore, if you are a student of The School of Hard Knocks (aka, "poor"), you can also get in for half price by saying, "I'm from Urbana," or "I am a Blue Flower Artist," or even, "I think Taylor wants me to get in for half price."

I am so looking forward to this, in case that wasn't obvious.



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Do you have any quarters from 1965?

Once, at either the National Poetry Slam or some similar event, my friend Rives performed a poem in a hotel room long after the competition was over for the night. There were probably 30 people stuffed into the room hanging out, and everyone was doing a poem. It's a familiar scene to anyone who has been to one of these events, and frankly it's one of my favorite parts. Back to Rives. His poem was about finding a quarter from the year of your birth and that moment of connection you have as you hold an object in your hand that arrived on this planet the same year you did. It goes on to warn that the quarter will last a lot longer than you will so . . . seize the day, people. It was brilliant, and the room was stunned. I've tried to get him to repeat the poem at various times, but like many of his poems, it was a one-off. You had to be there, and I was.

So now, whenever I see a quarter from 1965 I keep it. I have a horde of quarters from my birth year, and I want more. And the interesting thing is that quarters from 1965 are the oldest quarters in regular circulation. That was the first year that they stopped making them out of silver. You virtually never see quarters or nickels or dimes or fifty-cent pieces or Eisenhower dollar coins from 1964 and earlier unless your grandfather had a stash of them that you found in the attic. So here's what I would like as a birthday present: Send me a quarter from 1965. Yes, I am asking you to spend 42¢ to give me 25¢. It will even cost you more in time because a quarter can't just be stuck into a regular envelope (it will be torn out); you'll have to invent something Riveslike to send it in (or tape it between two pieces of cardboard). Send them to:

Taylor Mali
P. O. Box 1286
Cooper Station
New York, NY 10276-1286

If you include a self addressed envelope, I will send you a thank you present.



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SlamNation (the movie) is now available on iTunes!
Check out my hair! But remember this was 13 years ago!

Click here if you have iTunes to view the trailer or write a review.

New Caption Contest
Leave a comment with a suggestion for a caption. Winner gets a prize of some sort.



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Difficult things to explain in Spanish
I've just finished a week of intensive Spanish lessons in Antigua, Guatemala, and I can now speak Spanish just about as well as I could last year at this time (when I studied for two weeks in Costa Rica). My teacher and I move very slowly through the material because I keep getting distracted by idiosyncrasies of the language or complicated stories that i think I need to tell. For example, I might speak better Spanish now if I had never tried in the last week to:

• explain what a stencil is and why attachments at the top and bottom of the capital C are not necessary but are a good idea nevertheless.

• describe the remote-controlled opaque arched window frame that I will need to install if the light on top of the new NYU dorm across the street cannot be replaced with a motion-sensitive bulb.

• wax poetical about how in Spanish one says "duermo CON mi esposa" when one wants to say "I dream OF my wife," but how, to my ear, that sounds like "I dream WITH my wife."

• ¡Por qué el clítoris es masculino!

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The next Page Meets Stage pairing is 12/3

Would you believe it's taken 17 pairings of the Page Meets Stage series to bring together two women?! Luckily next Wednesday (December 3 at 8 pm) we shall finally have it in the form of Aracelis Girmay and Christa Bell. I am so excited in anticipation of this amazing meeting of powerful and talented poets that I'm afraid I might accidentally refer to it as "girl on girl action," which would probably be very wrong.

Aracelis Girmay was raised in Southern California. The inheritor of Eritrean, Puerto Rican, and African American traditions, she writes poetry, essays, and fiction. Girmay holds a B.A. from Connecticut College and an M.F.A. in poetry from New York University. Her chidren's art book, Changing, Changing, was publisehd by George Braziller in 2005. A former Watson fellow and Cave Canem fellow, she has published extensively in journals and literary magazines.

And if you didn't know (and aren't easily offended), this is Christa Bell:



Any questions? All Page Meets Stage readings take place at the Bowery Poetry Club (308 Bowery, between Houston & Bleecker, F train to Second Ave, or 6 train to Bleecker) in New York City. Admission is $12 but write to me if you want the special half-price "code word."

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Greetings from Nice
I'm here for an international schools conference, and it's beautiful. Sunny, warm, lots of doggies. It's Nice!



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We have the same birthday?!

How many people
must be gathered in a room
before it becomes likely
that two of them
will have been born
on the same day
of the same month?

Understand the question? They don't have to have been born in the same year, they just have to share the same month and day (which is what people usually mean when they say they have "the same birthday"). The answer is so shockingly LOW you will not believe it. But the first person to leave the correct number as a comment will win a little prize from me.

Click here to use an ingenious online application to help you figure it out!

Go vote today!

Unlike the mixed message of the (Don't) Walk sign pictured below, there should be no question in your mind about whether to vote today.



In the words of The Clash, "Should I stay or should I go?"

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An online video interview with me

Justin, from Austin Wired Local, conducted this online interview with me on Thursday. It's about 10 minutes long.
If I appear to be stroking my thigh, it's only because one of our cats who sat on my lap the whole time! I was in
my office up in the Berkshires, and there's a photo of a Maasai warrior in the background that I took 20 years ago.



Click here to watch the interview.

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What's the best caption for this photo?


This was taken at the International School of Stavanger in Norway last week.

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Fall Work Weekend
Twice a year, in fall and spring, my siblings and I meet at the old family barn and do the necessary chores to keep the old place running smoothly. The central task is the installation (in fall) and the removal (in spring) of the storm windows on an area of the house we call "the shed," which is in no way like a shed so don't ask. Traditionally, the Spring Work Weekend is just the four siblings; we talk about family business and stuff. But the Fall Work Weekend is more festive because spouses and children are invited and that swells the ranks from four to 17! Below you will see a DURING, AFTER, and BEFORE picture that captures the central chore of the weekend.



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Uppsala, Sweden


I snapped this with my phone on the way to the Poetry Festival this weekend.

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Quick Plug Between Poems

by Taylor Mali

I’d just like to mention—because I’m pretty
stoked about this—that one of my poems—
“The World According to Whitie”—
has been selected to be the Poem du Jour
on the Word Warrior Network’s #1 Poetry Jukebox.
Thank you, I know. That’s pretty dope, right?

So if you would like to check it out, just go to
www dot Word Warrior Network dot Number 1
(it’s actually the number sign and then the word
“won,” spelled W-O-N, as in the past tense of “to win.”
I know. It’s confusing. I don’t know why they did that.)
So number sign, then Won, dot Poetry Jukebox
dot Poem du Jour slash Taylor underscore Mali
dot The World According to Whitie
(all one word) dot com.

Peace.

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Yesterday was the last EVEN day until 2020!
It occurred to me at about 10:30 pm yesterday as I was signing & dating an electric bubble gun, which was the second prize in the first annual Triplex Poetry Slam. All of the digits in the date (08-28-2008) are even, and that won't happen again for over twelve years! The next "even" day will be Ground Hog's Day of the year 2020 (02-02-2020).

If you think that's a long time to wait, think about this: Back in 2000, Ground Hog's Day marked the first "even" day in over one thousand years! For a silly prize (to be determined later), what was the last "even" day before 02-02-2000? First correct & complete answer left as a comment wins the prize.

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Tomorrow I'll be at the Bowery Poetry Club
Tuesday is the Team Urbana 2008 Group Piece Showcase/CD Recording Night/Fundraising Auction/Sendoff Party at the Bowery Poetry Club starting at 7:00 pm. I will be premiering a poem I have been working on for years! Just so you know.

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Check out this slideshow made from one of my poems

How much would you pay for . . .


A one-of-a-kind Middle Eastern silver message scroll filled with ten signed & dated recently written but as-yet UNPUBLISHED poems by Taylor Mali?



The item above will be auctioned at Urbana on Tuesday night, July 29th, at the Bowery Poetry Club. All proceeds go to help send the team to Madison, WI, for the National Poetry Slam. We have a very good team this year, and I am very proud of them. So I have taken the ten most recent poems I've been working on, printed them out on special paper along with the date each was originally written, signed each one, rolled them up, and slid them into a silver message scroll that I got in The UAE last fall. These poems are soon to be published in (or rejected from) The New Yorker, Poetry, The American Poetry Review, and Barrow Street. But these copies (and the silver scroll) can be yours if you are the highest bidder.

Leave your bids as comments below. All bids must be in $5 increments.

If you'd like to help the team without having to read my work, feel free to donate any amount you wish using the PayPal button below.

Why I am an idiot (and a bad person)
Right before the James Taylor concert began at Tanglewood on July 4th, my wife spotted John Travolta and Kelly Preston being ushered to their seats. There was a smattering of twitters throughout the audience. At the intermission, they were rushed backsatge before anyone else had finished clapping. So I'm wandering around the shed, which looks big enough to hold about 3,000 people (meaning that the other 17,000 were picnicking on the lawn outside), and I go up to the lip of the stage and look at JT's set list for the second half of the show. I notice Travolta's name between songs in a few places ("Travolta intro," "Travolta birthday video," "Travolta yoyo," etc.). I go back to my seat and tell my wife that John Travolta will be involved in the second half of the show. "It's someone's birthday, and he's going to do something with a yoyo." Can you guess why I'm an idiot yet? James Taylor sang "Sweet Baby James" with special guest . . . Yo-Yo Ma! It was incredible, as was Carole King who joined JT for several songs as well.

But why am I a bad person? Because originally we had lawn seats, and all day long I prayed for it not to rain. Then we managed to score the amazing shed seats, and halfway through the second set I began thinking about how long it would take to get out of the parking lot. "Maybe if it started to rain really hard NOW most of the 17,000 people out on the lawn would be miserable enough to go home early!" I'm practically a puppy-kicker.

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I am the plate with the white edge



I have written here before of my practice of returning plates to the bottom of the stack when I put them away. This insures that all them get used equally, not just the ones at the top of the stack. Since there are only two of us, it would be very easy for only the top two plates to get frequent use. I think this might be a WWII mentality; back when plates had delicate gold leaf on them and weren't supposed to be washed in the dishwasher, they may have been more prone to showing signs of wear and tear. The plates we use (pictured above) are really quite sturdy, and unless they crack or get chipped they are likely to look fine. In fact, I'm even willing to admit that my practice might even INCREASE the likelihood of cracking and chipping (that's why I know it's irrational).

But I'm not trying to defend the practice here. All I wanted to say is that one of the dozen plates has a lighter rim than the others so when I put a bunch away--say, from the dishwasher after a dinner party--I make sure that the plate with the white edge goes on the bottom. That way I can track its progress as it rises through the stack. Once I even stuck a note on it: "This plate started at the bottom of the stack today, Friday, January 11th, 2008." It took about six weeks to rise to the top of the stack, at which point my wife looked at me and rolled her eyes. But I identify with that plate. That's all. As you were.

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Operation Pasta Drier (& Cat Mystifier)

Many thanks to all who came out to see me at the Triplex last night in Great Barrington, MA. If you got turned away at the door, remember that I'll be reading again on Friday, July 18th. When it gets closer, I'll post the link to buy advance tickets online.

One of the sillier poems I read last night was called "Great Names for Rock Bands That Occurred to Me While Shopping at a Store on Railroad Street." It didn't take the locals long to realize (The Onion Goggles, Julienne Peeler & the Flexible Nonsticks, Smokerbox) that I was talking about The Chef's Shop, a great store which, although a little pricey, accepts Berkshares for 100% of anything you purchase there. I had been wandering around the store earlier in the day, and although I didn't find what I needed—a large glass pitcher for making iced tea—I did see something called a pasta drier for $17. If you make your own pasta then you know that the long broad sheets of pasta need to dry a little before you either run them through the cutter or lay them onto the ravioli tray. In the past I've had to improvise with the backs of chairs and broom handles counterbalanced with stacks of books. This device was what I needed, but I suspected that I could build a similar item for less, and today I did just that. Behold my creation!



All told, less than $5. Of course, you need a neighbor like my neighbor Narain who has a full wood shop that he let's me use. Notice the sheen on the wood? That's "Food-Grade Beeswax" (another good name for a band?) used for curing salad bowls. It will keep the pasta from sticking to the wood and keep the wood from absorbing too much water when I wash it. Fettucini anyone?

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New video uploaded to YouTube
This is from Page Meets Stage. That's Mary Stewart Hammond in the background.



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Every Queen Deserves a Gift

I returned last Friday from my trip to Mexico. I am well rested and recharged. Check out the display we spotted in the airport coming home. Would you ever see that in the United States?!



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Do you ever get the urge . . .



This comes from the window of the Crunch Gym at the corner of my street. I think the whole phrase says something like, "things to punch-nice people-yoga and pilates-shiny machines." But the juxtaposition of these two activities cannot be an accident, could it? Or am I just cynical?

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Greatest Thank You note ever!


Read all the way to the end.



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My policy is confirmed!
I have policies that I have lived by my whole life. And once in a while I find something that justifies them. One concerned public toilet stalls with more than one roll of toilet paper. My first instinct (and I don’t think I’m unique in this) is to reach for the fuller, bigger roll. Is that because I’m incurably American and automatically think “More is better”? I don’t know; maybe I want to even things out. But then I began to think about it from the custodian’s point of view. He or she would much rather that the smaller roll keep getting used until it is used up. That makes replacing it less wasteful. Yesterday in the airport, I finally found official confirmation of this policy:



Now if I could only find someone who would back up my policy of putting dishes away at the bottom of the stack.

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Greetings from Paris!
Just finished the first of three days of teaching in Paris (actually St. Cloud, a suburb), and I'm exhausted! Part of the problem was the kindergarten; they always enervate me. I'm just not used to the onslaught of curiosity. Not curiosity so much as a willingness to be in the center of things. Hands shoot up in the middle of one of my poems, and so I stop to call on kids and answer questions. "This reminds me of a story about my cat, Whiskers." Okay, but do you have a question? "Would you like me to tell you about Whiskers?" What about you? Do you have a question? "No, but I have a cat!"

Later, teaching a workshop with the fifth grade, I told the kids to RISK MORE when they write. It's great when poetry is entertaining, but it's better when you sense that the writer is not afraid to talk about important things. They did well with it, particularly one student who wrote, "I should probably tell you that I heard my parents arguing in their room the other night, and my father said he wanted a divorce. But in the morning, neither of them remembered it." That really helped the rest of the class get it.

Later, I went to a bank and tried to ask for change of my 50 euro bill (I have a performance tomorrow night and I need to be able to make change for books and CDs and stuff). At first, the guy wouldn't do it; he said they needed 48 hours. Huh? In New York City, there would be 100 places where I could do this. "But ziss iss Parice, monsieur." He suggested I go to a change bureau. What? There are places that just make change?! Turns out, he thought I wanted to EXCHANGE my money! I'm sure it was my mistake; my French is all messed up because of my Spanish studies.

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Is there a BAD day in Paris?
I have a theory. My theory (which is mine) is that it is impossible to describe a bad day in Paris, which is where I'll be teaching next week (March 17th through the 19th). Here's an example:

Today was awful.
It rained all day.
I woke up in my friend's empty flat
and discovered she had nothing to eat.
So I went to a little cafe
on the corner, but all they had
was bread and cheese.
So I sat there drinking
absurdly strong coffee
and wrote in my journal
while French people smoked
and argued at tables nearby.
Later I tried to find a museum
but ended up getting lost
and just walking around in the rain.
Then, when I got home
and wanted to sleep,
I was kept awake by a jazz band
that played at the club
downstairs all night."

See, it still sounds pretty neat. Off to pack.



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I'm teaching spoken word poetry this summer!




If you're interested in a two-week summer intensive in spoken word and performance poetry with some of the best teachers in the world (and me), consider going to the CSU Summer Arts Program in Fresno, CA, from June 29th to July 12th. I'm one of the first teachers you'll have, but you'll also get Kimberly Dark, Jack McCarthy, Alix Olson, Sonya Renee, and Violet Juno. For more information, click here

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Is this your life?
Just came back from a gig in Dallas. On my way back to the airport, I noticed that my ride (Carrie) had two notes in her car. I thought they were funny. Especially together.



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Now available for only $10 online!




As you may know, I help curate a weekly Tuesday night poetry slam at the Bowery Poetry Club called Urbana. And this CD, contains the best group pieces and music-backed poems to come from our stage over the course of our 10-year history! Produced specifically for NYC-Urbana’s 10th Anniversary Show in December 2007, you’ll hear favorite poems from The Suicide Kings, Shappy (with Station Wagon), Alexis O’Hara (and her Loop Station), not to mention all of the best group pieces ever recorded by the most successful poetry slam series in history! This is a wonderful resource for forensic students and coaches looking for duets and group pieces to perform in competition!

Track Listing
1. Shadokat & Darian Dauchan: American Fix
2. Celena Glenn & Team Urbana 2000: Running a Race (No One Knows)
3. Celena Glenn & Team Urbana 2002: I Nail My Palms
4. Celena Glenn & Team Urbana 2003: Freedom is a Seed Away
5. Shawn Randall & Team Urbana 2003: Peace Sublime
6. Shappy & Station Wagon: Lick My N**sack
7. Suicide Kings: On Poets Who Talk About Listening to Jazz
7. Ken Cormier: Bug Dreams
8. Taylor Mali: The Sole Bass
9. Alexis O'Hara: Escape Hatch
10. Alexis O'Hara: Dream Diary
11. Sou MacMillan (with Ron Dumont): Margarita
12. Chad Anderson & Team Urbana 2005: That Moment
13. Post Midnight & Chad Anderson: I've Got Lives Saves
14. Akua Doku & Post Midnight: Guilty Pleasures
15. Christa Bell (with CR Avery): Word Medicine
16. Jeanann Verlee & Team Urbana 2006: Tribute (Trio)
17. Derrick Brown: Love Can Really Kill Your Writing
18. Iyeoka Okaowo (With Ngoma): In The Blink Of An Eye
19. Team Urbana 2006: Constitution
20. Shadokat & Team Urbana 2007: Boom Bye Bye Trio

Online Intern & My Quest for 1,000 New Teachers
I've just added seven people to the blog where I track those I have helped convince become teachers bringing my grand total to 192. Actually, my unofficial total is considerably higher than that. I have a folder called "Teachers Ready to Go" where I keep the people who have supplied me with everything I need: a picture, their home state, and a pithy description of how my work might have helped them decide to become a teacher. When I have a handful of those, I update the blog. But I have another folder where I keep the folks who have supplied me with some of that info, and that one indicates that there are 86 people who want to be counted on my list whom I have not contacted yet.

Click here to see the latest list of my heroes.

That's the problem with my current system: it's very labor intensive for me. There's a lot of necessary emailing back and forth to make sure I've got everything I need before I can officially list someone. I've been told that what I really need is some sort of wiki. I don't entirely understand what that means, but here's what I want: First, someone realizes they count as one of the 1,000 people I have helped decide to teach. Second, they fill out some sort of web form that asks them for all the requisite info. Third, they upload a picture. Fourth, when the form is complete, I am presented with a preview of it, and I get to approve it. That would make it so much easier to add people to my list because they would essentially be adding themselves.

This is why I have decided to "hire" an online intern. Here's what I wrote on Craig's list:

Spoken Word Poet Taylor Mali needs an Online Intern

I need someone (ideally a New Yorker but not necessarily) to help me electronically in a variety of ways. For instance, you’re a Myspace/Facebook junkie so not only can you keep an eye on my Myspace page, which I have ignored for months, but you can add live recordings that I send you, post pictures, and come up with your own good ideas. Secondly, my DREAM INTERN would have serious web 2.0 kung-fu and could help me develop some sort of wiki so that people could add themselves if they thought they qualified. That would be so awesome I might even pay you. Which brings me to what you get: You get to say you’re the intern of Taylor Mali (that will mean nothing to most people but a lot to the rest); you’ll get the most eloquently written recommendations whenever you need them; you’ll get autographed copies of all my books & CDs; you’ll get the warm fuzzies.

If this sounds like something you could manage for a while, send an email to tmcdm1@gmail.com and tell me where you live, how old you are, what you do, how well you know my work, your level of computer kung-fu, how it is that you would have the free time to do this, and something else about you. Thanks.

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Funny Firehouse

Look what someone sent me in the mail!



Ever since I wrote the line, "Newest installation in the pantheon of unlikely mascots. Like a fire department whose logo depicts the Phoenix, rising anew from the ashes of its own immolation," I have wondered what the logo of the Phoenix, AZ, Fire Department is, and whether or not the person who designed it was clever enough to make the connection to the mythical bird. Now I have my answer. They are, and they did. And I am so happy. Thank you, Arthur!

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Curiosity and the F.O.I.A.

The good news
is that after petitioning the FBI
under the Freedom of Information Act
and requesting—as is the right of every American—
a copy of the entire contents of my file
(should I happen to have one),
including, but not limited to, all evidence
of electronic surveillance, wiretapping,
and data mining; a personal history
of suspicious activity including confirmed membership
in organizations and movements of questionable artistic merit;
known aliases, and documented contact with individuals
considered unpatriotic or otherwise undesirable,
I received word last week that I did not, in fact,
have a file with the FBI.

The bad news
is that I probably do now.

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Greetings from Costa Rica!

Here is a picture I took with my phone on my way to school the other day:



My sister and her family are living here in Monteverde for a year (her husband was born here and still has much of his family here), so when I set aside these two weeks to do an intensive Spanish immersion, this seemed the natural place. I lived at her house for the first week (speaking more English at home than I should have) and walked half an hour down the mountain to school. There is no road that leads to their house. The last 100 yards are up a narrow path. We are at the end of the rainy season so it has rained almost every day. But rain and sunshine means rainbows. Having a great time even though my head is ready to explode.

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What I did today



I made a wild mushroom ravioli from scratch (that's why they're all deformed), and read Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz's book on the history of the New York City poetry slam. Outside it rained. Tomorrow I drive four hours, do a gig, then drive home again.

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The first week of December . . .

. . . is looking like it will be one of the busiest weeks I’ve ever had. Here are three events in New York City I'd like you to know about/attend:

Monday, December 3rd, 2007
Bar 13 Lounge
35 East 13th St., 2nd fl
8 pm
I’m the feature in their “LouderEdge” format. This is where an established poet comes in and performs all new work, and then they ask me questions about poetry & performance & whatnot. I’ve done it before, and it’s always very challenging. So even if you’ve seen me many times before, tonight will be filled with poems you’ve never heard. Admission is five or six bux.

Wednesday, December 5th, 2007
Page Meets Stage: C. D. Wright & Bob Holman
Bowery Poetry Club
308 Bowery, between Houston & Bleecker
8 pm
This is the ongoing series that I curate and host in which I take a performance poet and an “academic” poet and put them onstage to read back and forth, poem for poem. Bob Holman is the owner of the Bowery Poetry Club, was one of the founders of the Nuyorican Poets Café, and has done more to promote the poetry slam in New York City than anyone else. C. D. Wright is a professor at Brown University and the Poet Laureate of Rhode Island. Admission is $12.

Thursday, December 6th, 2007
"Icarus Airlines" CD Release Party
Bowery Poetry Club
308 Bowery, between Houston & Bleecker
8 pm
This is the biggie. It’s been five years since I’ve put out a CD, and this is by far my best. The show is free and there’s an open bar and free sushi! I’ve invited two singer/songwriters to open & close the show for me, and it’s just going to be a lot of fun. Hope you can make it (and pick up a copy of "Icarus Airlines"!).

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Cl#torectomy
Last night, I had to take the word "cl#t" out of one of my poems. I am in the Kingdom of Bahrain, and one of the organizers of my reading just thought it was too risky (in fact, this entry might complicate my attempt to leave the country tomorrow morning at 4 a.m.). I looked at her and said, "So the cl#toris is like Israel, is that it? It may exist in the real world, but it isn't recognized in Bahrain?" She said I had hit the button on the spot.

Here, as in the U.A.E. as well, all references to Israel are censored. Imported maps have big blacked out sections. Locally produced world maps don't show it at all. It is the cartographic equivalent of a cl#torectomy: We will expunge what we fear and wipe it off the map. Make no mistake, the people here are nice, it's just the goverment I have questions about. It's just like home in that way.

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Land of almost completed skyscrapers



I'm in Abu Dhabi right now, but I snapped this photo just as I was leaving Dubai, and it pretty much says it all. You can't see it in the picture, but off to the left there are at least a dozen more skyscrapers all with cranes on top. Even the locals are amazed at the amount of growth the UAE is experiencing in general (Dubai in particular).

And apparently there's a lot more alcohol than I thought. My host said she didn't take me to the seedier side of Dubai (thank you, Nancy) but assured me that the UAE (and other more "liberal" Arab countries in the region like Bahrain, where I am going on Wednesday) are often filled with Saudis looking to kick back for the weekend.

One thing I can't get over is the time change. I'm eight hours ahead of New York City so while it's half past nine in the morning here and I am getting ready to go for a swim in the school pool, it is only half past one back home (my server is in the Central Time Zone so this entry will probably say 12:30). This means I can only talk to my wife between 3 pm and 10 pm local time because the rest of the time one of us is sleeping. Sometimes, like yesterday when I taught early in the morning, I can catch her before she goes to sleep at night.

I guess I'm getting a little homesick. But I'm off to teach another two workshops of 10th graders how to risk more in a poem and how to speak so others can hear and understand them.

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Greetings from Abu Dhabi
It's a little greener here, or so it seemed driving down from Dubai last night. I slept nine hours last night and I am up and ready for another full day of school! I will try to post some pictures later today. Interesting/disappointing fact: none of the expats in the UAE speak Arabic. It wasn't even offered as a language at the school in Dubai, and I'd be surprised if it were here. Granted, there are more people here from elsewhere than there are native Emiratees, and everyone speaks English, but still . . . Arabic would be a useful language to know in the future (and I'm not talking about the CIA, even though they would agree).

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Greetings from Dubai in the United Arab Emirates
If you’ve never heard of this country it is because you’re American, and George Bush hasn’t declared war against it yet. The U.A.E. comprises most of the elbow of the Arabian peninsula near the narrowest point of the Strait of Hormuz. Dubai is the largest city in the country, the financial center, and it is directly south of the Iranian coastal town of Korig (which sounds Swedish to me, but what do I know?). Think urban sprawl meets nouveau riche, an Islamic Las Vegas on the Persian Gulf with a whiff of Detroit. Great beaches, but lots of national modesty. Not much going on during the hottest part of the day, but not much alcohol at night. It’s a bundle of contradictions, and I love it. But then again, I’ve never been to Israel so they allowed me into the country in the first place. Actually, Dubai is the most tolerant of all the emirates; Hindu temples are allowed here (so long as they don’t touch the ground). Synagogues not so much. It’s not actually against the law to be Jewish, just don’t ask and don’t tell.

What am I doing here? I am teaching poetry. This is what I do. And hanging out with the expats who make up 90% of the population of this city. Today was my first day at the school, and it went very well despite my having woken up at 3:15 AM convinced that I was late for class. I was still on New York City time (and will be still unless I get to bed soon).



This is me teaching this afternoon at 2:45 PM a lesson so exciting that the two girls on the right are yawning in EXCITEMENT!

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I would make a great pompous fart, wouldn't I?

Or should I ask, "Don't !?"

This is me reciting "The Apologia of Hephaestus" recently while wearing a borrowed pair of glasses. I actually have a pair of glasses very much like these but I only use them for driving at night and watching movies so I rarely have them when I want to do this poem.


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The next Page Meets Stage is Wednesday, October 10
And this is the one everyone has been talking about. Rachel McKibbens and Nick Flynn (I keep slipping up and saying "versus" even though that's not what the series is called anymore). Nick is the author of several books of poetry and an award-winning memoir called "Another Bullshit Night in Suck City." Rachel is the doyenne of the New York City spoken word community. Guess what?! "New York Magazine" literally JUST CALLED ME to ask about this event. Actually it was only the guy from the listings page, but still. I'm not sure we've ever been listed in NYM before so this is probably an indication that this one will be big. As well it should be. These two are awesome. Rachel is a big fan of Nick's, as is Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz, who will be the opening poet.

TAKE NOTE: Virtuous has gone out of business so advance ticket sales are no longer available. Tickets are only available at the door. Also, the graphic below is from the Bowery Poetry Club's website and so therefore does NOT include the address of the club. So be sure you know where you're going:

The Bowery Poetry Club
308 Bowery
(between Houston & Bleecker, F train to Second Ave, or 6 train to Bleecker)



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Is your name Jay?
Ever since a young girl approached the signing table with her name written on the cover of my book, I've been signing books that way for people. "That's a great idea!" I told her. She asked if that wasn't the whole point of the design. Make it look like a composition book so that people can put their names on the covers? I wanted to say yes, but the truth is that it had never occured to me. Regardless, it's what I do now, and it allows for me to personalize every single book I sign without having to come up with something witty, original, and unique (is it redundant to say original and unique?). So last week I'm signing the book pictured below to a kid named Jay. "I'm sorry," he says. "I said JAKE." So I put the book aside and pull out a fresh one. But now I've got this book that says "Jay" floating around my desk, and I don't know what to do with it.

First person to leave some sort of verifiable proof that his name is Jay (or that she knows someone named Jay) will have this book mailed to them along with other assorted little goodies.



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Greetings from Asilomar 57
Asilomar is a beautiful conference center on the Monterey penninsula—think fog and wood smoke and sand and windswept pines—where for 57 years English teachers from California have gathered to talk about their craft. I flew into San Jose yesterday and gave the opening keynote last night in Merrill Hall. In the moments of complete silence you could hear the waves breaking on the beach a couple hundred yards away. After the reading, I taught the first of five sessions I'll have with the same group of teachers. There are about 20 of us, maybe not quite so many (for once I didn't count). I remembered from the last time I taught a multi-session/multi-day workshop (years ago at Breadloaf), that we all ended up Sunday regretting not having done more real work at the first session Friday night. So we really got into the work last night. Consequently, we were really able to cover a lot of ground today during our three sessions. There’s one left tomorrow. Still have not walked on the beach, swum in the pool, or meditated to the sound of the ocean, but there’s always tomorrow.

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More schwag is in the works
Has anyone ever worked with Cafe Press?



These are just a few of the items that are available at my new merch store by clicking HERE.Tell me if you like the process. I'll be putting some "Icarus Airlines" shirts up soon!

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In case I hadn't mentioned it . . .
. . . the opening, or warmup, poet for Wednesday's Page Meets Stage pairing of Gerald Stern and Lynne Procope will be . . .

[wait for it]

Roger Bonair-Agard.

This may well be the most talent-packed event at the Bowery Poetry Club ever! Incidentally, tickets are now available ONLY at the door. Admission is $12 ($6 students).

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A week of tough anniversaries




This was the view from the roof of my building seven years ago this week. I went up there a week or two later and took another picture, and to look at both images side by side is chilling. Today, September 13, is another tragic anniversary for me. It was on this day that my first wife took her own life. We were separated at the time and almost finished with our divorce, but in a way that made it harder. The moment she died we were just as married as we ever had been in the eyes of the law. I finished a poem about Rebecca the other day. If you'd like to hear it, I posted it on the PODCASTS page. Thanks for the wishes of support. I am doing fine. Off to Atlanta for two days of teaching and performances, which is just what I need.

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Action Weekend Redux




Last weekend, I hosted another Action Weekend for my twin nephews, who are now 14, and four of their friends. Their cousin (who is actually my cousin even though he's their age) couldn't make it so all told there were six 14-year-olds instead of nine. Good thing, too, becuase both my co-chaperones had to cancel at the last minute. We had a great weekend, and no one got hurt! This, despite the fact that I took them into the woods armed with a machete each!

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First Page Meets Stage is Wednesday, 9/19
We came back to the city last night after having spent the entire month of August out of town, mostly up in the Berkshires, which was wonderful and getting even more so just as we had to leave. Something happened on September 1st; it was though the weather was waiting for the new month to get cooler. Now I am back and filing all the stuff that needs to be filed and doing all the things I put off until I was "back." It's still a ways away, but I wanted to be sure that everyone in the New York City area knew that Page Meets Stageis starting up again on Wednesday, September 19th, with these two:



If you're wondering how I manage to get such amazing icons of poetry to be a part of this series (which doesn't even pay that much because it is a benefit for Bowery Arts & Sciences), then that makes two of us. I guess I just ask nicely. The show is at 8 pm at the Bowery Poetry Club (308 Bowery, between Houston & Bleecker, F train to Second Ave, or 6 train to Bleecker) and advance tickets are available through www.virtuous.com.

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Did I mention I was a Yankees fan?
Not last night, I didn't. Performed for the third year in a row at Boston University's First Year Student Outreach Program. Each year about 600 incoming first-year students choose to get to school one week early to volunteer in one of several different outreach programs (homelessness, children, elder care, HIV/AIDS are just some of the areas that I remember). They learn nerdy cheers and fight songs and go about changing the world. All before they even open a textbook. And I'm the Wednesday night entertainment. And then, because it's always on Wednesday that they bring me in, I head over to the Cantab Lounge to check out the local slam. In short, I had a great night!

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From a lake house in Vermont




I performed yesterday for a supervisory union here in Vermont, and I have a similar gig tomorrow in a nearby county. Consequently, I have one day to kill and have been given a summer lake house that belong to a teacher or administrator. It's a beautful place. A bit musty and dark, and chilly at night (it was in the upper thirties last night!) but beautiful nevertheless. Yesterday, in the early evening, I took the skull out on the lake for a few vigorous strokes before the cocktail hour. I had a little trouble rehanging it from the rafters of the boat house, so I improved the system a bit by placing a nail in a strategic spot and tying a loop in the rope that previously had to be wrapped around the rafter and tied off (probably by a second person!). This morning, while I drank my tea on the dock, I signed the guestbook. Or rather I wasted almost two entire pages of the guestbook explaining exactly who I was, how I came to be there, and what I had done with the skull in the boat house. After lunch, I'll be heading back there (I'm at the local public library now) to simply write.

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Check out this line up!

The next season fo Page Meets Stage starts next month, but I recently got the promotional cards so I thought I'd show everyone who I have booked in the upcoming season. For those of you who are not aware, I curate this monthly series (previously called "Page vs. Stage") in which two poets face off on stage together and read poem for poem. It is not a competition in any way, which is why we changed the name. It's an ongoing conversation. And as a friend of mine remarked while looking over the card, "Wow! You really have A list people here!" It's true. These are some of the biggest names in contemporary American poetry.

All the shows take place at the Bowery Poetry Club (308 Bowery, between Houston & Bleecker, F train to Second Ave, or 6 train to Bleecker) in New York City and are benefits for their educational wing, Bowery Arts & Sciences. Tickets are available at the door or in advance from www.virtuous.com. I imagine some of these shows will sell out (some perhaps months beforehand!).



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The National Poetry Slam begins!
Last night, in Austin, TX, the first bout of the National Poetry Slam was completed. And for the first time in 13 years I wasn't there! That's right, I'm taking a year off (aka "maturing"). I understand that my team, NYC-Urbana, won their first bout and that Nicole Homer got the high score of the night and therefore goes into tonight's competition with a #1 ranking, which is something to be proud of. Send good thoughts to Austin tonight! As for me, I'm going to go buy some lumber and replace a few rotten planks on our deck. Maybe the hummingbirds will come watch.

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Greetings from my iPhone
I'm such a geek. Here I am at the Phoenix airport with an hour to kill before I fly home, and I have figured out how to update this blog without a computer. I look like one of those spoken word poets who is constantly hunched over his PDA texting, which is exactly what I am.

Performed last night at the KIPP Summit, the annual conference for the 50+ KIPP schools (Knowledge Is Power Program). It's controversial to say so, but I think charter schools have an important role to play in the effort to fix public education in this country. What do you think?

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Sometimes I miss having regular students
I just finished a two-day residency at the Oklahoma Arts Institute's Quartz Mountain Summer Program for high school students. About 250 students, mostly from OK from what I gather (but Katie, you said your family lives in MA so what's that about?), gather at a beautiful campus in the middle of a state park--think desert with lakes--for two weeks of intensive study in the art of their choice: creative writing, modern dance, ballet, orchestra, photography, and probably several other disciplines that I am forgetting. I was a visiting artist in the class of poet James Ragan and boy did we have a good time! This morning the students (about 16, I think) performed 60 seconds of a poem I had them write and "memorize" for homework, and I was blown away at the results. This is what happens when you gather together the kids who are called "freaks" in their own high schools. Genius. Had a performance last night in front of all 250 campers, but only AFTER we were all treated to a chamber music recital by the music faculty. Took me 12 hours to get back to New York City--and I'm leaving tomorrow again--but it was well worth it. Parker, your voice (both poetic and singing) is egregiously memorable. Dia, David, Jasmine, Catherine, Ilie, Amelia, Hanna, and everyone else whose name I cannot recall: thanks for your hard work.

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Five times in a row heads?!
This is so dorky--and I've written about this before here so I'm repeating myself--but answer me this: If you flipped a quarter 100 times, what do you think the chances are of it coming up five times in a row heads or five times in a row tails? The answer is so surprising that I designed a database to test it. It flips a coin 100 times, looks for the pattern, then does it again 1000 times! Leave your guess and how you arrived at it. I'll send a little prize to the closest/best guess.

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A $10,000 Favor
Yesterday a video of one of my poems (“What Teachers Make” from the finals of the 2000 National Poetry Slam in Providence) was chosen to be one of the featured videos on YouTube. Consequently, I have been getting a lot of email recently. The email is all positive, but the comments left by viewers on the YouTube site are mixed (and entertaining), my favorite being, “That’s not poetry, and I know it’s not poetry because I enjoyed it.” If you have just been introduced to my work, welcome; I’m honored you enjoy it. If you’re a longtime fan, welcome back. Either way, I have a favor to ask.

FameCast is one of the sponsors of this year’s National Poetry Slam in Austin, TX, and along with several other slam poets, I am participating in one of their online competitions, sort of like American Idol for the internet. I uploaded a video (“The the Impotence of Proofreading” from my reading at the Bowery Poetry Club with Billy Collins) and people view it and vote for it if they like it. I told myself if I made it into the next round (the top 50), I would actively try to seek votes. Well, I did so here I am.

The top three poets will be flown to Austin for a final live competition, and the winner of that event will be given $10,000. I PROMISE RIGHT HERE AND NOW THAT IF I SHOULD HAPPEN TO WIN THE FINALS, I WILL GIVE AWAY EVERY LAST CENT OF THAT $10,000 TO EDUCATIONAL CHARITIES, NON-PROFITS, AND OTHER WORTHY CAUSES! So here’s what you’ve got to do:

It’s a pain, but you need to register at www.famecast.com/registerfan.php, then go to the SPOKEN WORD STAGE (9), watch some poem videos, and vote for the one you like best, which will be mine with any luck. Thank you.

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June PAGE vs. STAGE canceled
Since neither headliner could make it, the June PAGE vs. STAGE has been canceled.

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One of




For some reason, I get irked at the misuse of quotation marks such as in the sign above. What improvement or distinction is being made to the meaning of the sign by the use of quotation marks? Are they afraid people will think, "What do they mean MY application? I just picked this up at the door and filled it out completely, but it's not mine"? Even worse are signs on doors that say something like this:

KEEP DOOR CLOSED
"PLEASE!"

Such signs often use exclamation points, italics, or underlining (or italics AND underlining, which really annoys me) to get their point across. Any other examples you've seen that you'd like to share?

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Towel Sculpture in Mexico



My wife and I were in Cozumel last week celbrating our first anniversary, and the housekeeping staff at the hotel where we stayed left creative sculptures made out of clean towels and dried flowers every day!

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Front page of the NYT from the day I was born




It was teaching a research methods unit during graduate school--showing my students how to access the New York Times on microfilm--that I discovered this amazing coincidence. The day I was born, Sunday, March 28, 1965, an article appeared in the New York Times just beneath the date on the front page that said, "TAYLOR TO BEGIN U. S. VISIT TODAY." Of course, the article referred to Maxwell Taylor, the then ambassador to South Vietnam, but still I was surprised that my parents had not made note of it. Then again, they were probably not looking at the newspaper that day. And other, older members of my extended family would have to have been remarkably observant to say, "Wait, what did you say the baby's name was? And he was born on Sunday? Well hold the phone a moment, I think there may have been an article about someone by the same name in the paper that day. Why yes, here it is! What a curiously synchronistic moment!" There really are people in my family who talk like that, but no one noticed. It wasn't until 25 years later, when I told my students that to prove they knew how to use the microfilm machines they had to make a copy of the New York Times from the day they were born (and then did it myself as an example) that I discovered the article announcing the beginning of my U. S. visit (whcih has been quite nice so far).

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Pretty good profile that appeared May 4


The picture was taken at the local food co-op and hardly makes me look poetic at all, but i love the fact that they included the cover of "Icarus Airlines," which won't even be released until 2008! For the complete text of the article, click here.

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Poet translation phrase book
Billy Collins says poets are people who can't stand to say only one thing at a time. Someone else described poetry as the art of saying one thing but meaning another. And it's true, the world is filled with people who just wish poets would just "say what they REALLY mean?" To help in the effort to make poets understood, I offer up the following common phrases you'll hear at poetry readings and what they really mean:

THIS NEXT POEM IS RELATIVELY NEW: I wrote this poem about a year ago.

THIS POEM IS IN THREE PARTS: I didn't realize I would only be allowed to read one poem in the open mic so I'm going to pretend that the three poems I wanted to read are three sections of the same poem.

I WASN'T GOING TO DO THIS POEM, BUT SOMEONE IN THE AUDIENCE REQUESTED IT: This is my one good poem, and I read it so often I don't want my friends to think I'm choosing to read it now. I want to make it look like I'm doing someone else a favor.

THE TITLE OF THIS NEXT POEM IS CALLED: On the verbal portion of the S.A.T. I got a perfect 100.

I'VE TRANSCENDED SLAM: I got kicked off the last slam team I was on.

I'M GOING TO GIVE YOU A CHOICE AS TO WHICH POEM I SHOULD DO NEXT: Both of the poems are really old, but I don't want to be held responsible for deciding which one to do.

THE NEXT POET ON THE LIST IS ARGUABLY ONE OF THE MOST INTERESTING VOICES IN THE POETRY SCENE: I can't think of anything nice to say about the next poet.

HOW AM I DOING ON TIME? I know I'm way over the allotted time limit, but go ahead and tell me I have time for one more.

I'm sure I've forgotten a bunch of obvious ones. Feel free to add suggestions.

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My Distribution Center



I have a reputation among my friends for being organized, and I guess it is deserved. I like to think of the Zen saying: "True simplicity is not easy." Above is a photo of the cabinets that sit behind me as I write this. I call it my "distribution center." When someone orders a product off my website I fulfill it here. The cabinet designated by A is pretty much devoted to "Conviction," which is the most recent and best selling of all my CDs. I am particularly pleased with my new digital postal scale (visible at E in the photo). I don't need a scale to tell me how MUCH postage to put on my packages--I can figure that out elsewhere, and it always changes anyway. All I really need to know is if a package is 13 ounces or 13.1 ounces, and I didn't trust my old analogue scale. At shelf B you'll see some Priority Mail stickers, some promotional post cards, and a stack of my first CD (now 12 years old!), "The Difference Between Left & Wrong." Cabinet C is pretty much devoted to "Poems from the Like-Free Zone," both the CD and the stickers. However, at point F, if you have good eyes you'll recognize the end of an extension cord attached to an empty roll of packing tape (to keep it from falling back through the hole out of which it comes). When I had the cabinets installed, I didn't want to cover up the outlets behind them forever. Shelf D is filled with shipping supplies--various mailing envelopes and sleeves and a tape gun. Below that shelf I keep about 100 copies of "What Learning Leaves" on hand. It's been five years since this book was published, and I really should be working on my current manuscript, "Definitely Beautiful." But I guess that's my thing; that's how I procrastinate. I organize and plan. Then I take pictures of it and talk about it here. All right. Enough. I'm writing a poem now.

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Saturday night is the finals at Urbana!
One of the deals we made with the Bowery Poetry Club when they requested that we switch our slam to Tuesday nights was that we could pick whatever day we wanted to have our final slam on; I mean it's one thing to go to a regular slam on a Tuesday night, but the final slam of the season is a special occasion. So we chose this Saturday night, Cinco de Mayo, at 9 pm.

Here's who will be competing for an all expenses paid trip to the National Poetry Slam in Austin, Texas, this August:

John "Survivor" Blake: winner of semifinal #1
Darian Dauchan: winner of semifinal #2
Jeanann Verlee: winner of semifinal #3
Rico Steal: winner of semifinal #4
Nicole Homer: Urbana's iWPS winner
ShadoKat: a MegaQuasiSemifinal winner
Chad Anderson: a MegaQuasiSemifinal winner
Ariane Benford: a MegaQuasiSemifinal winner
Rainmaker: winner of the Last Chance/Wild Card Slam

It's an incredible lineup of poets and as usual Shappy will emcee and keep it flowing smoothly. I'll probably do a poem in the showcase that will kick off the night (or maybe I'll be one of the two sac goats).

As far as tickets goes, it's the first year that we've set aside 50 tickets for advance sale online at www.virtuous.com, and people have been taking advantage of it! And why shouldn't they be? If you buy in advance you only pay $8 (plus a $1 service fee) as opposed to paying $11 at the door. Also you get allowed in a little before the general public so you have a better chance of getting a seat.

So if you're in New York City this Saturday night, and you're looking for a great show of poetry, come on down to the Bowery Poetry Club (308 Bowery, between Houston & Bleecker, F train to Second Ave, or 6 train to Bleecker). See you there.

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John Stewart makes me feel intelligent
Just watched Bill Moyers interview with Jon Stewart on PBS, and it made me love them both even more, Moyers for the way he listens to his subjects and Stewart for the way he mixes astute observation with offhand hysterical comments. Stewart is also very proud of the success of Stephen Colbert whose show he called built "out of the same DNA as our show." I think the pettier, easier, more typical thing would be to see Colbert as a rival. That he does not bespeaks Stewart's maturity and confidence. In some of my best moments as a poet I feel like a kindred spirit of Jon Stewart's: shining a new type of light on a problem from an entertaining (and illuminating) angle. Okay, bedtime now.

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The series continues this Thursday, April 26th

Those of you who keep up with this blog know all about PAGE vs. STAGE, the series I'm curating once a month at the Bowery Poetry Club in which a "page" poet and a "stage" poet read together, back and forth, poem for poem. It's not as adversarial as the title suggests. It's more of an ongoing conversation. Well, the conversation continues on Thursday with Valzhyna Mort and Rives.

This is one of the matchups that I've been waiting for since the beginning of the series. Valzhyna is sort of the current darling of the American literary scene, and Rives is the second smartest person I know. He speaks Russian and says that Belarusian is a close ancestor so when they switch poems (as the format dictates they must at some point), I'll be interested to see if he attempts to read her poem in her native tongue! As always, I recommend buying your tickets online through Virtuous.com, but tickets (if there are any left) will also be available at the door for $12.



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A workshop I'm teaching later this month




Urbana is trying to branch out and do more things besides just produce poetry slams (like our sister series, the LouderARTS Project, who at last count had a bajillion different formats!). This is our first offering.

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Beating up on a seventh grader
I taught and performed today at The Fessenden School in Newton, MA. At three o'clock, I had a much-anticipated SCRABBLE match against a Latin teacher named Andromeda (I am not kidding) and a seventh grader named David W.. The Latin teacher got crappy tiles and just never got into the game and so abandoned the game after an hour or so. David was in the lead after having played EQUIPS on double word. I caught up with LINTY on triple word and JAYED (which is a phony, but no one challenged me) for 62 points. Then, in the final few moves of the game, I played the bingo HEROICS on a triple word for 92 points (my highest scoring move in years!) and suddenly remembered how many of my best moves have been made against seventh graders (with learning disabilities!). I just can't restrain myself! "I know you don't know what this word means but it's spelled LACUNAE and it's worth a bajillion points!" David, however, had serious skills, and I only beat him by a smidge.

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Revival of an old tradition
My friend Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz and I used to play SCRABBLE once a month or so with two ladies of a certain age named Helen and Gert. For some reason or another we stopped going, but last month I dropped by their social club on the Upper East Side and ran into Gert who said that although Helen didn't come to the social club anymore, she was sure she'd be interested in getting together for a game. So yesterday was the day. Filling in for Cristin was her boyfriend Shappy. We met at my apartment at 2:30 pm. Helen said she was out of practice. That's her on the left behind me playing against Shappy. Nevertheless, she beat him 411 to 332 even though he bingoed on the last turn. Shappy lost two turns, once when he challenged the word LORY and another when he challenged GAMY (both words are acceptable). Helen also played WINY (having the quality of wine). Meanwhile, I beat Gert by a smidge. Then we switched partners. Helen tried to get me with YEASTING, which is not acceptable. But despite my efforts I lost to her. Meanwhile Shappy, who again bingoed on the last turn couldn't catch up to Gert and "got [his] clock cleaned," as he put it. Watch out for ladies of a certain age when it comes to SCRABBLE, particularly if they claim to be rusty.



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Someone please do me a favor . . .
. . . and edit my Wikipedia entry! I'd do it myself, but apparently that's a no-no (subjects are not supposed to write or edit entries on themselves). I think it's pretty amazing that the title of my master's thesis from 1993 is listed there, but there's something mentioned at the end that is just plain FALSE. Why would someone write that?

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Before April comes
April being National Poetry Month, presumably because of the first line of T. S. Eliot's poem "The Wasteland" (although I always thought August was a far "crueler" month what with it's stultifying heat mixed with the beginning of the college school year), I tend to get very busy. But I'm not complaining. At least the U. S. HAS a poetry month. We don't act like it most of the year, and we certainly don't spend as much money on the arts as we should, but I've been able to pay the mortgage as a full time poet for seven years now so I'm definitely not complaining.

PAGE vs. STAGE, both of them, have been wonderful successes. We're tweaking the format each month so as to get the sleekest, most comfortable, most enjoyable show. The next pairing is Thursday, April 26th, and it pits Valzhyna Mort, the Belarusian beauty and rising star of American letters, against the enigmatic and much YouTubed genius Rives. I can't wait for this one.

My yearly month long cleanse--from February 25th to March 25th--is winding down, just in time for my birthday next Wednesday, March 28th (I'll be 42 if you care to believe it!). Haven't had alcohol, caffeine, sugar, wheat, or dairy since 2/25, and I feel great. Those of you asking yourself, "What's left?!" are forgetting vegetables, chicken, fish, and fruit; I have lost about 12 pounds. Which of the five things was the hardest to give up? In the morning I say I miss caffeine the most; at breakfast I crave the wheat and the dairy; during the afternoon I miss that sugar high; and at night I ogle others' pints. But actually it is easy, and I recommend it.

Just finished a three-day "tour" which involved a conference and a day of workshops at Farmington High School outside of Hartford (including a three-and-a-half-hour poetry workshop for 20 English teachers in which I was sure I would be discovered to be a fraud who knew NOTHING about how to teach poetry to kids) and a visit to the school where I taught my first middle school classes, Cape Cod Academy. This is the school where Lilly Wilson is from (at least some of her) as well as Eddie from "Playing Scrabble with Eddie." This is the school where i fell in love with teaching. It has grown in the dozen years since I have taught there, but many of my favorite colleagues are still there, fighting the good fight. Of the many improvements the school had added, I noticed they still didn't have a good "outdoor classroom," a place where you could take your class on a warm spring day and NOT have them fight over the one or two comfortable places to sit. So I'm happy to report that I've arranged for them to build something like the two benches below (I say "arranged" like it's a done deal when it will probably cost much more than I could give). Please leave a comment and tell me whether your school had a place like this. Or tell me about an experience you had when your teacher took class outside.



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Do I contradict myself? Very well then.



As you can see, I once was a card-carrying member of both the NRA and the ACLU. I joined the NRA because I used to love guns AND believed in tough gun control laws. I figured that when I wrote to my local legislators in support of various gun control bills, it would be more useful to them if they could see that I was a member of the NRA.

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This one will be sold out!



The March pairing of PAGE vs. STAGE at the Bowery Poetry Club has everyone buzzing, perhaps because both of the poets are such good friends (with each other AND with the New York City poetry community in general). Mark Doty is quickly becoming the premiere American poet of his generation, and Patrica Smith is . . . well, she is Patricia Smith, the one and only! What a fabulous night of poetry this will be.

The show takes place at the Bowery Poetry Club (308 Bowery, between Houston & Bleecker, F train to Second Ave, or 6 train to Bleecker) in New York City. Tickets are $12 and are available at virtuous.com.

A co-production of Words Worth Ink and Blue Flower Arts, this series brings together two poets from completely different worlds, one who writes primarily for the PAGE and another who writes primarily for the STAGE. The poets will read together for almost an hour, back and forth, poem for poem. It is not a slam or competition in any way. It is a benefit for Bowery Arts & Sciences, the educational arm of the Bowery Poetry Club dedicated to the preservation and enhancement of the oral tradition of poetry via live readings, media documentation and creation.

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A poem by Mary Stewart Hammond
Below is a poem by Mary Stewart Hammond, with whom I am reading this Thursday (2/22) at the Bowery Poetry Club at 8 PM as part of the PAGE vs STAGE series, which pits every month a page poet against a stage poet who then read back and forth, poem for poem, while the audience gets to see two very different practitioners of the same craft in action. If you'd like to come, your best bet is to buy your tickets (for $13) online at virtuous.com. If there are any left, they will be available at the door for $12.

The following poem by Mary Stewart Hammond appeared in the New Yorker not long ago, and I know she is going to read it on Thursday because when I suggested that I read it (we're supposed to switch poems at one point in the reading) she said nope, that one belongs to her and her alone. And I can see why (besides being from a woman's perspective). It's sassy and beautiful and funny. Enjoy it here, but come Thursday to the Bowery Poetry Club (308 Bowery, between Houston & Bleecker, F train to Second Ave, or 6 train to Bleecker) at 8 PM to hear Mary Stewart read it live.

The Big Fish Story

by Mary Stewart Hammond

Late fall. Not a soul around for miles.
Just me and my man. And those scallopers
trolling a few hundred feet off shore I'm pointing to,
saying No, Non, Nein, Nyet, Nej,
in every language, including Body English,
in response to his idea that we take off
all our clothes smack in the middle of the lawn
in broad daylight and go swimming!
This is the line he throws me: "But, sweetheart,
the young have given up scalloping.
Those are all old men out there.
Their eyesight is terrible.” Which explains why
I'm naked in the water off the coast
of Massachusetts on the 14th of October
and loving it, the water still summer warm
feeling like silk, like the feel of his flesh
drawing over my skin when we're landed
on a bed, so I swim off out of his reach
lolling and rolling, diving and surfacing,
floating on my back for his still good eyes.
I know what he has in mind and what
I have in mind is to play him for awhile
for that line I swallowed, delay the moment
I'll do a slow crawl over to him,
wrap my legs around his waist, and
reel him in—just the fish he was after.


© The New Yorker 2006

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Yesterday at the Senior Citizen Residence Center


Spirit and Alvin Lau were my guests at the old folks home where I perform every other month or so. They were a big hit! Spirit has been winning slams recently at Urbana, and Alvin, who is from Chicago, has been featuring all over New York City in the last week (including Urbana last night).

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The complete line up for PvS



I am thrilled to see that people are already beginning to buy their tickets online, and not just for the first show; two of the others have had sales as well.

As before, tickets are $12 and are available at virtuous.com.

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Where I'll be on Thursday, February 22, at 8 PM



A co-production of Words Worth Ink and Blue Flower Arts, this series brings together two poets from completely different worlds, one who writes primarily for the PAGE and another who writes primarily for the STAGE. The poets will read together for almost an hour, back and forth, poem for poem. It is not a slam or competition in any way. It is a benefit for Bowery Arts & Sciences, the educational arm of the Bowery Poetry Club dedicated to the preservation and enhancement of the oral tradition of poetry via live readings, media documentation and creation.

I am thrilled to be reading with Mary Stewart Hammond! Her poems are regularly published in "The New Yorker" and she has a delightfully saucy side to her.

The show takes place at the Bowery Poetry Club (308 Bowery, between Houston & Bleecker, F train to Second Ave, or 6 train to Bleecker) in New York City. Tickets are $12 and are available at virtuous.com.

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Urbana Box Set now available
The first four Best of Urbana CDs all together for a bargain price of $30! Enjoy some of the best spoken word poets on the poetry slam scene performing at the most successful poetry slam series in the history of slam: NYC-Urbana! Poets include Regie Gibson, Patricia Smith, Jeffrey McDaniel, Celena Glenn, Beau Sia, Alexis O’Hara, Shappy, Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz, Galway Kinnell, Rachel McKibbens, Billy Collins, Dawn Saylor, Mike Henry,Corinna Bain, Sage Francis, Queen Sheba, Rives, Andrea Gibson, Taylor Mali, Kid Beyond, The Suicide Kings, and many more! Also includes several team pieces and duets!

I'm launching a new series of readings!




Here I am with Bob Holman and Billy Collins in November of 2005 after a reading called "PAGE vs. STAGE." Billy had agreed to do it 18 months earlier, and I spent every one of those months obssessing over the details of the reading. The format was simple: Billy represented the page, and I repped the stage. We went back and forth, poem for poem, for about an hour, and then we answered a few well chosen questions collected from the audience by Bob Holman, the owner of the Bowery Poetry Club. The audience got to see and hear from two poets of very different modalities.

The reading was so much fun and such a success, that I am thrilled to report I have arranged for SIX more installments of PAGE vs. STAGE to take place at the club in the next six months. Check out who I have lined up:

February 22, 2007: Mary Stewart Hammond & Taylor Mali
March 15, 2007: Patricia Smith & Mark Doty
April 26, 2007: Valzhyna Mort & Rives
May 24, 2007: Carol Muske-Dukes & Shappy
June 21, 2007: Marie Howe & Roger Bonair-Agard
July 12, 2007: Kim Addonizio & Ainsley Burrows

One of the reasons I was able to get so many "big name" page poets is that I have partnered with Blue Flower Arts, the agency that represents some of the most well-respected poets in the country, nay, the WORLD. All events take place on Thursdays from 8 to 10 pm. Tickets are $12 and are available at www.virtuous.com.

Click here to buy tickets for any of the PAGE vs. STAGE readings.

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What Some Other Teachers Make
This is an odd way to start the new year, but . . .

One of the anonymous, sanitized versions of my poem "What Teachers Make" was recently posted to an AP English list serve. It was posted by someone who knew that it was "based on a poem by Taylor Mali." The poster even directed everyone to this website to read the original. What ensued was a spirited (and valuable, from the snippets that were sent to me) discussion about plagiarism, literary responsibility, and professional standards. Apparently, some in the group have now entered the "backlash" phase. The following parody poem was recently posted to the same list serve. In the eight years since the poem has been in existence, it has been adapted to fit many different circumstances: I've read "What Social Workers Make," "What Architects Make," and even "What Baby Puppy Trainers Make." But this parody is different. It's funny in some places, brutally honest or mean-spirited in others, and filled with self-loathing (actually, it sounds like a lot of slam poems). What smarts the most is what someone wrote as a comment on the piece at the end. If you are interested, I present . . .

What Some Other Teachers Make

I make kids sit for 160 hours a year while I flap my jaw on my pet topics and read aloud from the textbook.
I make kids who can't sound out "suffering" struggle through A Tale of Two Cities because that's what's in the district curriculum guide.
I make believe Toni Morrison is as important as Shakespeare.
I make time for the teacher's lounge, where I have been bitching about the same kid for the last two weeks.

I make money even if every single student in my class learns absolutely nothing.
I make money even if my first-graders cannot read after nine months.
I make money even if I don't know the first thing about my subject.
I make money because I pass "continuing education" classes that demand even less than the nitwit education courses at the local ed college where I took my mediocre degree.

I make up stories to my principal about how I use time so well and I can't understand why it took us three weeks to get through one short story.
I make up explanations on the spot because I am too lazy to make a lesson plan.
I make students plod through word problems in math that they can't possibly solve given their skill level, bitch at them snidely as they chatter through and obstruct my clever plan for cooperative learning, and eventually give them the answer that I got out of the teacher's manual.
I make reference to the above as "teaching thinking skills."

I make two red marks on a moronic essay, write "B" on it, and drop it on the stack to the right.
I make multiple-choice tests because they're easy to grade.
I make pretty girls and handsome boys do less work for the same grade.
I make excuses for jocks who don't turn in their assignments.
I make 13-year-olds read dumbed-down teen lit because I myself never understood that difficult stuff and besides they like it.

I make genial small talk for seven minutes each morning because my students' time isn't important.
I make no comments when a bright young teacher with ideas doesn't have his contract renewed because he actually dared to question the system at my school.
I make gay teens sit through years of verbal abuse because punishing the students who harass them would make me uncomfortable.
I make students listen to my politics but disguise it so that I don't get in trouble.

I make myself go to work for nine months so that I can do nothing for three.

I make coffee in the teachers' lounge.
I make donations to the NEA.
I make myself look good.
I make enough, in Oregon, to retire in twenty years, and I make jokes about how this is bankrupting the state.

I make a generation of smug seventeen-year-olds who
can't tell you who Socrates was,
don't know when the Civil War took place,
can't solve any math problem above eighth grade level,
can't write a coherent paragraph, and
think poetry sucks.
I make excuses.

I make free verse that congratulates me for being wonderful, wonderful me.

----------------------------

AND THE COMMENT THAT REALLY STINGS: “I'm glad to see I'm not the only one who thought the original [“What Teachers Make”] was Dear Abby-quality and was becoming embarrassed to see that English teachers can put aside their knowledge of what makes something well-written if the desire to be self-serving trumps it.

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Zachary Bunnell: Brave Viking Warrior


Zachary Bunnell died on Christmas Eve two years ago while he was in fifth grade. Friends of his have gathered on December 24th each year since then to remember him. They meet at a cafe called Toots Sweets, a favorite of Zachary's where once, at age five, he helped raise the funds necessary to replace a fountain that had been stolen. I'm told that as part of the mourning process, Zachary's friends, now in seventh grade, read "Tony Steinberg: Brave Seventh-Grade Viking Warrior." May the new year bring peace and happiness to the Bunnells and every family that may have lost their own brave Viking warrior.

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The pictures on my home page . . .
. . . have changed yet again, and this time they're the closest to what I had in mind. Yes, I took them all myself and spun around slowly while I did so. Yes, it's Piccadilly Circus in the background. And yes, people looked at me very strangely (and I deserved it).

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Anyone want a saddle stapler?


Anyone who has ever put together her own chapbook knows that it is virtually impossible unless yoou have one of these: a saddle stapler. This particular one is especially big—you could reach the middle of a chapbook even if you printed it on 11x17 paper (which I've never seen anyone do, but you know . . . you could). It jams every so often so it's a good idea to keep a pair of pliers on hand, but once you get the hang of how to hit it (a sharp strike, not a slow and steady push as I remember) it works great. Do you want it? I'll give it to you. I'll even mail it to you for free. First person to leave a comment here (don't leave your address) with a valid email address attached to it will get the stapler. I'll contact you for your mailing address.

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Greetings from London
I'll be teaching at a school in Egham (on the outskirts of London) on Monday so I came over a bit early to see friends and go to the theater. Last night I got to see Tom Stoppard's "Rock and Roll," a play about communism, Chekoslavakia, rock and roll, and personal relationships. It wasn't my favorite Stoppard play, "The Real Thing." Nor was it my second-favorite Stoppard play, "Arcadia." But I enjoyed my jet-lagged self tremendously (you can drink red wine in the theater here!). I have just returned from Harrods, which was a madhouse. Apparently, today is the Brits' big shopping day, their Black Saturday, if you will. We have Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving. Since they don't do Thanksgiving here, they wait until the first Saturday in December to hold their big sales, which is actually much more civilized. Except there was nothing civilized about the throngs of shoppers I had to wade through. Why was I there? To buy an umbrella with a picture of a Westminster terrier on it for my mother-in-law. Unfortunately, all they had was one with Scottish terriers on it. Now Scotties and Westies are very similar, particularly in solid-color, silk-screened profile, but how much do you want to bet that she'll take one look and say, "These aren't Westies!" We'll see.

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I walked in the woods today
My father used to get up early every day that he spent at Kickbox and walk in the woods with a machete and Winchester, the family dog. It's why Winchester always loved him best. And it's why the woods around Kickbox are so easy to walk through today; all the eye slashing branches were pruned 30 years ago. Today I walked in the woods around our new house with a machete, thinking of my father and Winchester. I heard neighbors' dogs barking, but I never got close enough to anyone's house for the dogs to smell me. I was just a clomping sound in the distance. The machete makes a metallic "ting!" sound when it cleanly lops off a small branch. You can take out several small branches in one fell swoop with a "Ti-ti-ting!" sound if you swing hard enough. (I wrote an essay my senior year in college about "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight," and in it I learned that "fell" means deadly, but it can also mean flesh!). A thicker branch takes several chops and makes an equally satisfying "Thwock!" sound. I walked the property line, seeing where the old owner had put up signs, where the original pins, rods, and markers were. It started to rain gently so I came inside. I'm thankful for this land, this house, and the turkey I will eat later today.

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Urbana to release


Next Tueday, November 21, the poetry slam series that I help to curate, NYC-Urbana, will be celebrating its 9th anniversary at the Bowery Poetry Club. The featured poet that night will be two-time National Poetry Slam Individual Champion (and former Urbana team member) Anis Mojgani! We will also be releasing the fifth and latest CD in the Best of Urbana series: Attack of the Urbanabots! Check out this track list:

1. Shappy: "Attack of the Clowns"
2. Sonya Renee: "Crush"
3. Buddy Wakefield: "Guitar Repair Woman"
4. Akua: "Courage"
5. Andrea Gibson: "I Do"
6. Sarah Kay: "The Boy's Got Jokes"
7. Anis Mojgani : "The Superpower Quotient of Diamonds"
8. Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz: "Estephania"
9. Jeanann Verlee & Team Urbana 2006: "Tribute (Trio)"
10. Jeff McDaniel: "The Benjamin Franklin of Monagamy"
11. Shannon Maney: "Summer Camp"
12. Chad Anderson & Team Urbana 2005: "That Moment"
13. Jamie Kilstein: "Music"
14. Post Midnight (with Chad Anderson): "I've Got Lives to Save"
15. Leticia Viloria: "The Love Song"
16 Jared Paul Pro Choice For Life
17. Christa Bell (with CR Avery): "WordMedicine (Hip Hop Hates Women)"
18. Hilary Thomas: "Five Haiku"
19. Mike McGee: "Spherical Man"
20. Akua & Post Midnight: "Guilty Pleasures"
21. Carlos Robson: "Swing Low"
22. Beau Sia: "What Would Jesus Do? (Freestyle)"
23. Derrick Brown: "Love Can Really Kill Your Writing"
24. Taylor Mali: "For the Life of Me"
25. Iyeoka Okaowo (with Ngoma): "In the Blink of An Eye"
26. Team Urbana 2006: "Constitution"

As usual, I think this is the best compilation CD that we have put out to date. As usual, Steve Marsh did the final mastering and audio tweaking. The cover artwork was designed by Ernie Cline, whose new movie, "FanBoys," will be out soon. To purchase your copy of this amazing collection, come to the release party (featuring Beau Sia and many other members of Urbana teams from years past) or visit http://www.thewordsmithpress.com/.

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Home Burglar Alarm System, circa 1968
This is pure Allen Mali. When Kickbox was built back in 1968, my father wasn't able to install the kind of alarm system he wanted. It was just a weekend/summer house so an alarm was vital, but the alarm itself was nothing more than a pressure sensitive mat at the foot of the stairs that would go off if you stepped on it. The alarm was loud if you were inside the house, particularly if you followed the sound of it to its source in the basement, but I'm not sure it could even be heard outside the house! My father must have feared that a burglar with seasoned effrontery would realize this and keep robbing the house blind. So down in the basement he placed the 3x5 index card below. Coming out of the alarm box was a phone cord (the old four-pronged kind) that was plugged into a phone jack. Little would the burglar know that the phone cord was attached to nothing inside the box! There would be no patrol car investigation, and we were certainly not station 19W. But that was my father's philosophy: What little details will tip things in my favor? I think I may call my next book "Station 19W." By the way, if you are a burglar and you are reading this, and you know where Kickbox is, I swear we now have the alarm system Dad always wanted (with motion sensors, too) so don't even think about it!



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Why do people always think I'm black?
I used to get mistaken for Kevin Bacon. Then it was Kenneth Branagh. Then I got told I SOUNDED exactly like Jeff Bridges. But more than all of those curiosities, people have told me when they meet me, "I thought you were black!" I had a reading last night here in DC, and this morning I received this email: "I have a picture in my mind of every poet that is featured on Indiefeed (where I first heard your work). But for you, I had a very strong image a tall dark black man with long dread locks. When I finally visited your website last week I was floored in disbelief. I had to check the url to make sure I had actually navigated to the right site :-). Again, thank you for making my first live poetry reading a pleasure." So there you have it. Peace & blessings, y'all.

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Wednesday night in Washington DC
Just arrived in our nation's capital. I'll be teaching tomorrow and Thursday at The Washington International School, but tomorrow night (Wednesday, 10/25) I'll be doing a reading at a new series that takes place at Cafe Sureia (3629 12th Street NE, Washington DC 20017, 202-269-9444). From what I hear, it's close to the Brookland stop on the Red Line (which is at Michigan & 9th), near Catholic University. It's a new series, and the organizer, the perky Delrica Andrews, isn't sure how many people will show up. Come surprise her (and me!). My brother Peter will be there. We look a lot alike, and sound even more alike.

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Experiment

Get Your Own! | View Slideshow

Abena Koomsen at Brown Gardens Senior Residence


Notice Jack McCarthy two seats to the right of Abena. Jack's getting ready to read next, but he looks suspiciously like one of the residents. Actually he isn't the oldest pot I've brought to Brown Gardens. My godfather is 74, and I don't think Jack is that old. Needless to say, the residents loved both Jack and Abena. Some said it was the best show ever.

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This is where I will be tomorrow night. Join me.
Roger is one of the superstars of the New York City spoken word/poetry slam scene. That makes him one of the superstars on the national scene as well. He writes beautifully, performs powerfully, parties heavily, laughs heartily, and lives largely. This is his first real book, and this will be a wonderful release party at a great dance club. And it's free! Join me there if you live in the NY area.



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A sunny Monday in New York City
My wife and I went to Colorado over the weekend. One of her oldest friends lives in Golden, and for her 40th birthday, this friend's husband organized a long weekend at a resort in Vail. There were about 30 people there in total, and it was wonderful. He (the husband, Matthew) didn't schedule much at all during the day; we were left to our own devices for the most part. But each night he had a different party to honor his wife. There were several men there whose wives have yet to celebrate 40, and Matthew set the bar incredibly high. I'm looking into renting the Space Shuttle.

I played golf for the first time since I was 13 and tootling around my grandparents' country club in the cart. I had one legitimate "bogey," and my putting distance was good, but for the most part it was hard for me to be consistent (story of my life). Let's just say I'm not about to buy my own clubs any time soon. At one point, my cell phone vibrated and I answered it. It was my agent calling me with an offer to perform at a school I've never been to before. I told him to pursue it, but I got off the phone quickly. Even though he didn't call me "baby," I felt like a stereotype.

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Tues: Swedish/Iranian Hip Hop Spoken Word Artist!
Tomorrow, Tuesday, October 10, 2006, Emil Brikha will be featuring at the Urbana Poetry Slam at the Bowery Poetry Club. He's on a tour of the USA, having sold everything he could not carry with him back in Sweden. My mother-in-law Ingegerd, who is Swedish, will be coming! Emil does amazing things with beats and background music that he produces himself. He is not to be missed.



This is the two of us in Stockholm last year. He had been writig me for almost two years, asking when I would be performing in Sweden. He even tried to set up a show for me (which I think he did for Sage francis once). Finally, when I was teaching at the American School of Stockholm, we met.

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So a Jamaican/Chinese lesbian and a WASP . . .
. . . are playing SCRABBLE and eating sushi. And one says to the other, "Hey remember when we used to do this every week?"

Had a great afternoon with Staceyanne Chinn, who continues to be a great friend despite life have taken us in different directions. Back in the day, she and I did more than a few college gigs together, and we used to pretend we were going to put on a show together in which we would play SCRABBLE while talking about sexuality, race, entitlement, and the police. Little did we know then that we would both become widow(er)s as well. We played two games today and split them (I lost the first 261 to 340 but won the second 425 to 239). We're going to try to make it a regular thing again.



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A Monday morning in the autumn
This is my favorite month of the year: the last two weeks of September, which I call Septober, and the first two weeks of October, or Octember. My fall touring season begins in earnest now. If you check my performance calendar, however, you won't see many gigs listed. That's because I'm doing more high schools and teaching conferences than ever before, and those gigs tend to be closed to the public. Urbana, the slam series I help curate at the Bowery Poetry Club, has moved to Tuesdays. Come by tomorrow to check out Iyeoka Okaowo from Cambridge, MA.

I've added nine new people to my list of teachers I have created through poetry and persuasion. I now have 145; my goal remains 1,000. CLICK HERE to see the new teacher converts.

I've also added a PODCAST page to this site that I'm really jazzed about. It's a place where I can upload audio of poems I'm working on, showcase collaborations, or just post audi musings on the poetic life. CLICK HERE to visit the new Podcast page.

Lastly, yesterday I hosted the second New York City Slam Summit. All the slam movers and shakers of the city gathered to discuss the recent National Poetry Slam, the current season, and new developments.


From L to R: Jeanann (drinking water), [the back of Mo Browne's head], Chad Anderson (with mouth full of guacamole), Akua, Lynne Procope animated, [the back of Zork's head], Jive Poetic, Roger Bonair-Agard, Rachel McKibbens, Emily Kagan (split), Nicole Homer, [the back of Jeanann's head], Marty McConnell, Karen Finneyfrock (spying for Seattle), Zork, Mahogany Browne, and Shappy.

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Action Weekend (September 8—10, 2006)


This weekend I hosted nine 13-year-olds at Kickbox for a weekend of swimming, capture the flag, shield making, blowgun & Chuckit wars, and pre-sweetened cereals.

Helping me chaperone were Rives and his brother Rives, whom the boys called Tango to avoid confusion. Click HERE for a slideshow of the weekend. My favorite activity was the Chuckit War. This is a Chuckit. It hurls a tennis ball with deadly accuracy and speed. The boys had so much fun that they kept asking if this could be an annual event, but I am not so sure that nine 14-year-old boys would be as much fun to hang out with.

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Greetings from Vermont!
Very quickly (because I need to sleep), I have just performed in two separate school districts—Monday in Brattleboro and Tuesday in Middlebury—as part of the general back-to-school in-service days. Two audiences of entirely teachers! In each set, I performed a completely different mix of old, new, and brand new work, as well as poems by other people like Billy Collins, Mary Oliver, and Shappy. Wednesday I'm performing at Boston University for the First Year Student Outreach Program (unfortunately for anyone who lives in the area and is NOT part of the program the show is private) and the show will be recorded. I am collecting live tracks for my new CD, which might be called "Well Made Skull" or "Bird's Nest with Blond Hair." Or maybe something else. It's good to be working again!

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Pluto Loses Status as a Planet
Many thanks to those who have written about what happened to Pluto. We thought we had a chance, but the big wigs in Prague saw things differently. Pluto, you will always be a planet in my solo system.

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Mahogany Brown reads at the senior citizen center!


Every other month or so, I bring a few poets with me to a senior citizen residence center on the upper East side of Manhattan called Brown Gardens. In the four years I've been going, the residents have received a first-rate education in contemporary spoken word. Celena Glenn, Shappy, Roger Bonair-Agard, Bassey, Rives, George & Rachel McKibbens, and many of the poets who come to town to feature at Urbana: few have not been pressed into service. Yesterday I brought Carlos Andres Gomez and Mo Brown, seen here reading a poem by her 9-year-old daughter Amari. It was an especially good day.

My performance on Monday morning in Miami, OK, also went well. The school district superintendent who had hired me took me out to breakfast at a red neck diner before my reading. The only evidence I could see was this one guy who was wearing a wife-beater style undershirt UNDER his regular white undershirt. Never seen that before.

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Bring on the top 10 lists!
I'll have to check out of the hotel and head to my gig in Oklahoma in a bit, but I thought I would chime in on the National Poetry Slam, which concluded last night in a wonderful slam last night at a rather industrial feeling Palmer Event Center in Austin, Texas. The team from Urbana (Akua, Sarah, Jeanann, and Jamie) had a wonderful time and made it all the way to the semifinals, but last night Denver took the crown. At one point during one of their group pieces, they interlocked arms with every other teammate, creating a barbed wire look, and the audience clapped almost entirely for the vidual. In talking with Katie Wirsing after, I learned that when their coach first told them to do that they HATED it!

Going to yoga with Marie-Elizabeth on Friday morning was such a wonderful way to start the day. Thank you for such a gentle but well guided class, Charles Ellik.

During the Slam Strategy Panel, Rives lamented the sameness of everyone's voice at nationals. Then he offered a bet: He would give $100 to the first poet in the Individual Finals who did not use any first person pronouns (I, me, my, mine, we, us, our). He almost kept his money. Every poem performed that night was about the poet who performed it with the exception of the second poem by Anis Mojgani, "You Have Been Given Permission," which is written entirely in the second person. Halfway through the poem, I looked up to where Rives was sitting, and he pointed to Anis as if to say, "Yes, this poem will part me with $100." Rives paid Anis being nothing if not a man of his word. Let's have more poems about other things and other people.

I didn't hear enough beatboxing this year. Boo.There were no protests this year about anything. This bodes incredibly well for next year when the National Poetry Slam is back here in Austin. Gotta go check out.

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Help me with a grammar issue!
Yes, I am asking for help. I will be emceeing the 2006 Grammar Rodeo & Spelling Bee on Saturday at the National Poetry Slam is Austin. So before I leave on Wednesday, I'm madly trying to collect good questions. I think I have enough tricky spelling words, but I could use some help with some good run-of-the-mill grammar questions. The questions can be in several different forms: Explain/Define/Use in a Sentence; What Is the Difference Between?; or Is the Following Sentence Correct? Here's one I'm having trouble with:

IS THE FOLLOWING SENTENCE CORRECT?
The emcee of a poetry slam must watch each and every performance in addition to keeping the show moving smoothly.

I would say the sentence is incorrect, suffering from a lack of parallelism disguised by the phrase "in addition to." A corrected sentence would read, "The emcee of a poetry slam must watch each and every performance and keep the show moving smoothly." But here's my problem: If I rewrite the sentence like this—"In addition to keeping the show moving smoothly, the emcee of a poetry slam must watch each and every performance"—it sounds correct to me. Why is that?

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One of my pet peeves



It is no secret that the word "judgment" is one of the most commonly misspelled words in the English language (along with definitely and beautiful). But I find it incomprehensible that a company would stand by their misspelled slogan for so long. I actually had occasion to meet the owner of the ad agency that came up with the slogan for Crunch and he seemed to think it was hysterical. "Don't you see? You're being judgmental! And that's exactly what Crunch is saying they WON'T be! It's perfect." I told him I had canceled my membership because of it, which wasn't true. They were just too expensive and too full of attitude for me (which is funny, because people say that about me).

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What organizations directly benefit teachers?
I may be in a position to direct some philanthropic funding toward organizations that directly benefit, reinspire, or otherwise honor veteran teachers. Leave me a comment if you know of one in particular.

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The Idiot’s Guide For Dummies

Whenever I spoke to you,
the main verb of my opening sentence,
as an homage to your German heritage—
even though you said it made me sound more like Yoda
than any German you’d ever heard—
at the very end of the sentence
I would endeavor to put.

And just because it was your solemnly held belief
that anything anyone wished to say,
however complex, could be expressed,
in fact, should be expressed
simply as a matter of respect,
in one carefully constructed sentence,
I always arrived at our meetings
at the coffee shop,
an hour before you
with my journal and a favorite pen
just to see if I could pick and choose
all I wanted to say and wrap it up
in one well wrought sentence,
so badly did I crave your approbation.

You made people look at me funny,
the way they look at you.

And lastly, I liked your idea for a new book,
The Idiot’s Guide For Dummies
and I’m sorry you weren’t able
to find a publisher for it.
Perhaps they didn’t know
what it would actually be about.

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Come out tonight for poetry
If you're in New York City tonight you have two opportunities to hear great poetry. At 11 pm at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe (236 East 3rd Street) the first of four NYC Regional Poetry Slams will take place between Urbana, LouderARTS, Brooklyn, and the Nuyo. But before that, at 7 pm at the Bowery Poetry Club (308 Bowery, between Houston & Bleecker, F train to Second Ave, or 6 train to Bleecker), the Urbana team will be having a showcase to raise money to send the team to Austin. They'll be showcasing ALL THEIR GROUP PIECES and asking for feedback. We will also be auctioning off various goodies. There will be drink specials and mystery guests. Please come if you can.

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Shameless Self-Promotion, Part IXVIII
Behold the new "What Teachers Make" Pen! Contains the entire text of my most well known poem on a spring-loaded pull out scroll (like a window shade) for those days when you need to be reminded why you ever chose to teach in the first place. The reverse outlines the details of my quest for 1,000 new teachers. Available for $3 in the online store. Cheesy, and totally cool!



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Website redesign
With my wedding and honeymoon and all, I have not been updating as much as I usually do. But in case you hadn't noticed, this site just went through a major redesign. For one thing, instead of there being 12 navigational tabs on the font page there are now 24, each with its own picture. So now, in addition to watching me take off my sunglasses you get to watch me put them in my pocket, take off my toque, sweep my hair back, and strike a pose with (eyes closed). Jamie Kilstein took those pictures a week ago up at Kickbox when I took the current Urbana team (everyone except MC Angel Bear) up there for a mini retreat. The mosquitos were huge, and I actually had to airbrush one off my face in four frames! Besides the pictures, there is a new section for photographs, new merchandise, and more information about Jim Flora, the 1940s artist who I inadvertantly ripped off when designing the cover of "Conviction." Tell me what you think.

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Alice at the Koi Pond


My friend Susan took this photo of my niece Alice at the wedding.

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Just taught a workshop for City Year!
City Year is a program for people who are willing to give up a year of their lives to volunteer in a city. In exchange for credits that can be applied toward higher education, young people age 17 to 14, join one of about 10 different City Year programs (South Africa is the newest!) and make in a difference in the world. Today I taught a workshop ostensibly about "Slam as a Teaching Tool." Really I just talked about poetry, teaching, mic technique, the importance of speaking with conviction: my stump speech. I brought Akua with me to perform a few poems and answer some questions, and she was great. Later, at the end of the workshop, I had everyone go to the courtyard (it was up at Columbia) to take this picture:

Check out this picture!

The only problem is that they all look so young! In other news, I got a few new teacher converts! Not from today, from earlier. Off to Urbana's Nerd Slam!

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There, their, they're
Before I created an entire website devoted entirely to my quest to create 1,000 new teachers (which is, albeit, linked to this one), I used to announce every convert here in this blog. So this is just to say that over on my OTHER blog you might notice that I've recently added six new teachers!

In other news, I had a gig out on Long Island last week, at a high school in Bellmore. On the way there--I had to take a 6:36 a.m. train out of Penn Station--I thought of a Grammar Challenge, which I gave to all my workshops just as a warm up excercise. First, I asked them to explain the difference between "their," "there," and "they're." Next I asked each student to write one sentence that used all three words. Most came up with a variation of this: "They're over there playing with their toys." Lastly, I challenged them to write one sentence that used all three words IN A ROW. Only one student could do it, and her sentence was much better than mine. Judge for yourself:

TAYLOR: Individually, when they are all in their own homes, my students are all nice people, referring to each other with courtesy and respect, but at school it's a different story; There they're their own worst enemies.

SARA R: Even though they're there, their toys are here.

As a face-saving consolation, I'd like to claim that my version doesn't require a comma and therefore is EVEN MORE DIFFICULT, but grammatically I'm not sure that's true. Like most people I know, my comma knowledge is a little shaky. I'd rather use too few than too many. Kind of like salt.

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Yes! It's true! I got married on May 13, 2006!


I haven't said anything about it on this website, but the article in last Sunday's "New York Times" kind of let the cat out of the bag. I got married! Marie-Elizabeth and I have known each other since our high school days here in New York City. She went to the all-girls school on the East side; I went to the all-boys on the West. We did plays together and flirted. We kissed once on the floor of my playroom! Since then our paths have continued to cross, sometimes uncannily. We had a wonderful 24-hour affair 16 years ago in Berkeley, but the timing wasn't right (for her). Subsequent encounters were badly timed (for me). We lived across the street from each other for years, and I used to fantasize about what life would be like being married to her. My dream has come true! I don't have to fantasize about it anymore! It's my life! I feel . . . so blessed. So in love. So happy. I probably won't be able to write a good poem for years!

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I now have a MySpace page.
I used to belong to Friendster and found it interesting for about a week. So when the first person wrote me and asked, "Why don't you, of all people, have a MySpace page?" I'm not sure I even responded. But now I've been asked by maybe a dozen people. Sage Francis has a MySpace page. So does Mike McGee. So I'm giving it a try. I'm not sure what all it can do fo r me that I can't do here, but we'll see.

Find me on MySpace and be my friend!

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Ever have one of these days?

My hotel in Anchorage last week.

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Alaska, Wordstock, and famous people
I returned from my last tour of national poetry month last Sunday. First stop was Fairbanks, Alaska, where the taxi driver said, "People in other parts of the country can't phantom how cold it gets here in the winter." Caught up with a grad school buddy of mine, Derick Burleson, a published poet who is now the head of the U.A.F. creative writing program. My reading there was great; the further away you get, the more appreciative people are of culture. Next stop, Anchorage, where I stocked up on salmon I wouldn't have to refrigerate; I ate about a pound that night in my room! Then off to Wordstock in Portland, an amazing literary festival. Read and taught for the teachers on Friday and had a blast. That night, I went to a party with Dave Eggers, R. L. Stein, and . . .

Annabelle "Lefty" Lee

Did you ever see the movie "A League of Their Own"? It was about the professional women's baseball league that developed during World War II. Lefty Lee was a Hall of Fame pitcher in that league. She pitched a perfect game on June 25, 1947: 27 batters retired in a row. She told me she had no idea what she had done until her catcher told her afterwards.

The next night, Saturday night, I taped for a live radio show called Live Wire! Think of "A Prairie Home Companion" for Portland, on the verge of becoming nationally syndicated. Hosted brilliantly by Courtenay Hameister (think of a red-headed Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz), the show featured Art Alexakis (the guy from Everclear), The Minus 5 (featuring Peter Buck), and several other Wordstock authors including the special headliner . . .

Chuck Barris

The creator of The Gong Show, The Newlyweds, and The Dating Game, Chuck Barris is also the author of "Confessions of a Dangerous Mind," a memoir in which he reports having been an assassin for the C.I.A.. He was a great sport, answering questions from the audience with grace and humility.

All in all, a great tour. Now I'm back in New York. We had the MegaQUASIsemifinal tonight at Urbana, the slam before the finals where we determine who the last four poets in the finals will be. And get this! For the first time in Urbana history women will out number men in the finals! Shappy's dream of an all female team is that much closer to a reality. Shappy's Angels. God help us. Every one.

Hanging with Colson Whitehead (www.colsonwhitehead.com)

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Yesterday morning at 7:30 am. Culver, Indiana


This is me Saturday morning sitting in the dining hall of Culver Academy, a military school in Indiana where I just finished teaching a two-day residency. The photo was taken by a student named Takashi N. as I ate my breakfast and sold books and cds to the cadets who hadn't brought any money with them the night before but who were willing to wake up early on a Saturday to obtain my words before I left for home. Many thanks to Mitch Barnes, the speech coach at Culver who organized my visit and The Poetry Jam. Tomorrow I'm off to Fairbanks to read at the University of Alaska. Then it's on to Anchorage on Wednesday, and then to Portland on Thursday for Wordstock, a literary festival I adore. Saturday night, I'll be appearing on a Oregon radio show called "LiveWire," which seems to be a sort of Pacific Northwest Prairie Home Companion. Yes, it is National Poetry Month. In other news, I am up to 112 new teachers in my quest for 1,000. I no longer report the individuals here; I have a separate website devoted to tracking them( 1,000 New Teachers). I think I'm turning the corner on this quest. I've known all along that it just needed a little time and effort to get the word out. Now I need to pack for Fairbanks. It's still in the 30s there!

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Hanging with Sage in Providence

Sage Francis (pictured above) and I had dinner last week in Providence before we went to the slam that Jared Paul now runs. I love hearing Sage's stories. If you haven't heard of him, Sage is an underground hip hop star (how can one be an underground star? Trust me). Years ago, he asked if he could put "How To Write a Political Poem" (one of my poems) on his new CD. "I can't pay you," he said, "but you'll get a lot of exposure." Sure, whatever, exposure, great. Omigod! I can't tell you how many people have been turned on to my work via that CD of Sage's. Sage gave me some business tips (and then picked up the dinner tab!).

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Gigs & New Calendar Format
Greetings from Lincoln, Massachusetts, not far from the North Bridge (where the Revolutionary War started) and Walden Pond. I've been staying with my sister and her family for three gigs that I've had in the area, the last of which is tomorrow (Saturday), a benefit for the public school teachers of Lincoln.

I've had the last two days off, which has been great. Wednesday night I went in to Cambridge and checked out their slam, which was awesome. Performed "Miracle Workers" and felt right at home. The Cantab was the site of my first feature ever, back in 1993 or 1994. Saw lots of old friends. Thursday I drove to Cape Cod Academy, where I taught for 18 months in 1995 and 1996. They had me do a poem during Morning Meeting, just like old times. I got a tour of the school, sat in on a class, and again, got to catch up with old colleagues. One in particular was Larry Brown, whom I consider my mentor of pedagogical spirit. It was from him that I got the idea of having my students build model Viking ships when we were studying medieval life in Scandanavia; I performed "Brave Seventh-Grade Viking Warrior" for him alone in his room (with my 9th grade tour guide), and made him cry right before his next class came in. Oops.

You may have noticed that I've changed calendar systems. If you click on the CALENDAR tab on the left, you no longer get taken to the calendar I used to maintain on this site; now it directs you to an iCal. Try the link below: If you are seeing this, then I suspect it means that you bookmarked this page a while ago. I should tell you that I've switched calendars. I now use an iCal called

Taylor Mali's Performance Schedule

It doesn't look as cool as this calendar does, but it integrates with the rest of my life much more seamlessly. And, should anyone want to, the calendar can be "subscribed to" by anyone who also uses iCal. My entire performance schedule would appear (and disappear when unclicked) in your own view of iCal. And when I make changes to the calendar (adding dates, changing times, revising contact information), those changes occur automatically in your iCal! Probably only the diehard stalkers will take advantage of that, but I think it's pretty neat. You?

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NEW WEBSITE!
I've just created a separate website devoted entirely to tracking my progress toward creating 1,000 new teachers. It's pretty limited at this point and doesn't even link to this site, but please check it out and give me some comments.

1,000 New Teachers

I think I have too much text on the first page.

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"The sky is blue, the day is gray . . ."

" . . . but I think I'll smile anyway." This was one of the first poems I ever memorized, and I get a big kick out of teaching it to audiences, such as this one at Schreiber High yesterday. The guy in the front row didn't want to do it (he's too cool) but I kicked his foot and called attention to his recalcitrance so I he joined in.

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Girls night at the Urbana Poetry Slam

This is Sarah. She is my "Youth Mentor," in other words, the kid I look up to and meet with periodically for advice. Sarah qualified for the Urbana team finals last year, but since she would have been too young to compete at the National Poetry Slam, we didn't let her compete. This year she will be 18 by the time August rolls around, so I've been waiting for her to come down to the Bowery Poetry Club on a Thursday night to try to qualify for the finals. But seniors are busy with college essays and I.B. exams and the like, so it wasn't until last Thursday, with only three open slams left in the season, that she came through. And lordy, lordy, history was made; for the first time ever, the slam had seven women in it (out of the regular eight participants). In addition to Sarah and "Survivor," the lone male participant, there were several other female forces to reckoned with: Rachel McKibbens (the slam master of LouderARTS), Christine Hatch (who qualified for our MegaQuasiSemifinals last year), Jeanann Verlee (who was our alternate last year), Emily Kagan (who is already in our finals), and Rachel Abrams (who has been in a semifinal already this year). But Sarah was untouchable. Her instincts were spot on; she chose the right poems and performed them with a new layer of confidence and polish. Now she's in the semifinals. And if she can win those, she'll be guaranteed a shot at the team on May 4th. There's only one problem standing in her way. It's cockier than Kid Rock, speaks eleven languages and folds paper.

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Greetings from Casablanca!
After my reading last night in Rabat (Morocco's capital), which was co-sponsored by the Institute de Poste et Telecommunications and the American Embassy, I was driven here so that I would be here already for my day at the Casablanca American School and wouldn't have to deal with morning traffic. I'm in the middle of my March cleanse (no caffeine, alcohol, sugar, wheat, or dairy) and I had not had dinner when I got here last night at 9:30 pm. I'm staying at the Royal Mansour Meridien Hotel, which is pretty swanky and managed by the father of a student at R.A.S., and apparently they had received word of my regime. There was a massive fruit platter and assorted juices wating for me in my room! It's a little after 7 am right now, and I need to go down and check out and get ready to be picked up. After teaching today, I take a train north to Tangiers. Tomorrow, I can spend the morning exploring, but I must then get across the strait to Spain to catch a six-hour bus to Murcia. Having a blast!

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A 202-word sentence. Can you write a longer one?
Although teachers had in the past, not without great reluctance, humored me and my predilection for long sentences, sentences whose labyrinthine syntax meandered circuitously through subordinate clauses, appositives, prepositional phrases, and humorously incongruous similes that stuck like the head of a marmot out of the breast pocket of a satin smoking jacket--I remain to this day the only student in the history of my high school to have been unjustly sent to the principal’s office for “crimes against grammar”--it was not until my sophomore year, a year otherwise entirely forgetful, when I first met and had as my English teacher the formidable and much discussed Mrs. Dorothea Dickens, a woman every bit as Victorian as her name might suggest and from whom children--and not a small number of adults--would hide for fear of being scolded to “Speak with clarity,” that I truly felt nurtured, nay encouraged, to forge sentences that would take my readers on such tortuous walks through the forests of my imagination that even Hansel and Gretl could not mark their merry way with crumbs, the sheer size of the loaf of bread necessary to produce the requisite number being far too heavy for both of them to carry together.

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Hello from the Institute for Student Leadership
I'm here in Boston helping to facilitate a student conference that is running concurrently with the annual conference of the National Association of Independent Schools. Over 100 students from all over the world have gathered to study and learn about the global nature of the world to come. One aspect of the conference was called Challenge 20/20 and was based on the book by J. F. Rischard "High Noon: 20 Global Problems/20 Years to Solve Them." Basically, N.A.I.S. challenged schools in the USA to partner with schools elsewhere in the world, pick a problem, and work together to try to solve it. Today we heard from the three award recipients (N.A.I.S. is too PC to say "winners"). Each group gave a ten-minute presentation, except for the Lower School award recipients: they had adults give their presentation (and it was the least compeling if you ask me). Afterward, we were treated to a short speech by J. F. Rischard himself. Rischard is from Luxemborg. The VP for Europe at the World Bank he is soft spoken but very articulate. He, like I, was blown away by these kids, particularly because he never intended for the book to be used in high schools. It was cute to see this international banker and global visionary being treated like a rockstar by these kids who were familiar with his ideas. The world is in a delicate state right now, but I have faith in the next generation.

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Rearranging deckchairs on the Titanic
I just watched Al Gore's presentation on global climate change and am newly frustrated with my country for not having signed onto the Kyoto Protocol. The economy is important, yes, but in the context of a world in environmental crisis, it is less so (to say the least). How many more Katrinas do we need?

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One out of 10 ain't bad!
Well, I am 10% done with my goal of creating 1,000 new teachers. If it were a two-hour exam, I'd still have 108 more minutes to go. If I were climbing to the top of the Empire State Building, I'd be just past the tenth floor. Still, I'm choosing to celebrate today. In June of 2000 I set a goal for myself: to direct 1,000 people into the field of teaching through poetry, persuasion, perseverance, or passion. Many veteran teachers have suggested I keep another list of teachers who I have inspired NOT TO QUIT teaching (at least for another year), and I may well start such a list. But today, I am simply happy to report that I have made some progress in my quest for 1,000 new teachers: Mike (#97) had his wisdom teeth pulled the last time I performed in his area, but he's passing the wisdom he has left on through tutoring and pursuing a teaching degree. Chad (#98) has changed his major from Communications and Marketing and reads "Like Lily Like Wilson" when he has tough days in the classroom. "You have changed the world a little bit here." After a debilitating accident, Tap (#99) couldn't ride horses anymore and was jealous of anyone who could. But she is now teaching mentally and physically challenged children to ride at the Therapeutic Riding Center. "Like Lily Wilson, I have learned to change my mind. Thank you for helping me remember to limp in another's braces. Thank you for giving be back the joy I had always felt before life made me a different person." And Rick (#100) is a first year teacher in NC who writes, "Thinking I could change the world, I changed my major to History, Secondary Education. I keep all of my lesson plans in a notebook. To keep myself motivated, I printed a copy of "Undivided Attention," and I keep it at the very front, just to remind me to stay strong on those rough days."

With any luck, I’ll be reporting more good news soon! Maybe you’re one of my 1,000 and you never told me? If that’s the case, send me an email that says “You Can Count Me!” and briefly (but eloquently, because I may quote you here) explain how my work might have figured into your decision to pursue a career in education. If you’re a journalist, and this story appeals to you, I invite you to tell it. How can I be of service?

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Report from the New York Metro Area Slam Summit
Ten slam masters and spoken word organizers from the greater New York area gathered at my house yesterday for the first ever New York Metro Area Slam Summit. With guacamole and clam chowder for fortification, we discussed everything from time limits to admission prices. One of the most important agreements to come out of the meeting was a rule Roger Bonair-Agard called the NO MOONWALKING RULE. Any area that has several slams and some degree of crossover might want to consider it as well. Every year, there is usually at least one poet who has qualified for the finals of at least two venues. This is generally a good thing because it means that there's cross-pollination going on; poets don't feel as though they can only slam at one venue. One of the down sides is that the roster of each team MIGHT not be finalized until the last venue in the area has its finals. A poet might qualify for the team of venue A but still want to try for venue B. In some areas of the country, this is considered the greatest possible insult, and policies have been established that are often as myopic as they are draconian (one such policy I remember involved BANNING a team member from a venue for a year if they even ENTERED another venue's final slam. They could have ended up having to rehearse all summer with a poet who would be banned from the venue come September!).

THE NO MOONWALKING RULE simply states that if you have already qualified for the team of venue A and you still want to try to qualify for venue B's team (some people call this "upgrading") you are free to do so so long as YOU GO WITH VENUE B should you end up qualifying for their team. In other words, you are not allowed to qualify for venue B's team, decide you don't like the team chemistry, and "moonwalk" back to venue A's team. Venue A will not take you back.

Are there any other slam regions that have adopted a similar policy? What does the Bay Area do, for instance?

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What not to do at a queer open mic
Went last night to Louderarts at Bar-13. They have, at last count, something like SEVEN different formats that they use on a rotating schedule including their slam (Slam This!), the Let's-Invite-Old-Farts-to-Read-New-Work (LouderEdge), Let's-Invite-Newbies-for-Mini-Features (Upper Case), the feminist series (currently Raise the Red Tent but which has been called House of Woman, WomanNoize, and I think something else), Pinion (in which truly established poets bring three proteges to open for them), and their queer reading (currently OutLOUD but formerly Q2). Last night was the OutLOUD format, and the feature was Staceyann Chin. You don't have to consider yourself a queer writer to read during the open mic section, but you are expected to read a poem by someone who does. They have books on the back table by Adrienne Rich, Audre Lorde, Justin Chin, Blair, and many others. Did I choose one of their books? No. I chose to read a poem from my own bookshelf. A poem by Tony Hoagland who is . . . (wait for it) . . . not gay. Doh! I felt like a fratboy (which, in fact, I am, but that's another story for another time). "I figures cuz da guy talks about sleeping wit udder guyz, ya know, he's a froot!" Truth is, I had Googled Hoagland before going to the reading to try to determine once and for all if he were gay. I wrote about his work in graduate school, and I was never sure. Apparently no one is. He's never come out to identify himself with the queer community; he just writes about complicated messy attachments between men and women and men. I have always had terrible gaydar. At a university in New Jersey two years ago, a student asked me if he could interview me on tape for his radio show, The Q Hour. Half an hour into the interview I made a comment about the glacial pace of my divorce. He turned off the tape and said, "Wait. You mean you're NOT gay?" Then there was the time, years before, when Urbana hosted its own Queer Slam. I got dressed up in short shorts, combat boots, and a tight tee shirt. I asked my wife if I looked gay. She said no self-respecting gay man would ever be caught DEAD looking like that. I guess what I'm trying to say is that there's so much to learn!

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The view outside my office window this morning


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The slam last night at NYC-Urbana
Was a wonderful mix. We had a full open mic list which included the two guys from The Talking Stick, Master Lee and Mr. Patrick, who each performed a sotry/poem. The Talking Stick is a truth-based story group that I think I'll check out soon. Chad and Nicole performed a duet, which we never get enough of. The feature, Scorpio Blues (although Shappy said she should spell it Bluez if she wanted to be a real poet) did a crisp set which involved a duet with her husband. She also had a great singing voice which she used to great effect. Scores in the slam started out low and stayed that way; the high score in the first round was 25-something. But overall, I think the right people advanced, and Jeanann, who ended up winning, was definitely on her game. Her last poem is my favorite ("For any woman who ever rode a motorcycle, changed her own tire, or wore a miniskirt with combat boots"). Tonight I'm featuring at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe (check my calendar for details), and I'm looking forward to it immensely. Come if you can.

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Great idea for a new gameshow!
Gather a bunch of CEOs in a room. Provide them each with a copy of their junk mail catalogues and a phone. First one to be able to cancel their catalogue wins. I've been on the phone for an eternity tring to get my name removed from their database. Anyone have any helpful hints?

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Greetings from the Individual World Poetry Slam!
I'm in Charlotte, where 60 poets are getting ready to watch the top 12 poets compete in the finals. There is one New Yorker in the bout tonight: Rachel McKibbens! Rachel is the slammaster of Bar-13, the sister slam of NYC-Urbana, and we send her all our New York style love tonight. It's been a great two days of poetry slamming: no protests (yet), no arrests, and lots of great poetry.

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What makes a great poet?
Oh sure, good writing and performing and stuff. Originality, wisdom, humor, a love of language: all that stuff. But what about this. You get an email on a Saturday night from a student named Erica saying that she wants to write her book report about you but Amazon said the one she ordered won't arrive until the end of the week, and her book report is due Monday! She lives in New York and how could she possibly get a copy of "What Learning Leaves"? How about leaving a copy of said book at a mutually agreed upon location for immediate pickup? That's what gets you popular with the Goth kidz, what?! I can only assume Erica is one of these students. Which one is anyone's guess.


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To all my former students: A favor to ask
Are you a former student of mine? I don't mean you had me for a workshop or two, I mean a real, day in/day out, English, history, or math student of mine (from Cape Cod Academy, the Browning School, Prep for Prep 9, or Kansas State University). There are only about 500 of you in total. If you are one, I have a favor to ask of you, a homework assignment if you will. I got an email last week from a fan who wrote, "I can't believe you're not teaching anymore and that your students didn't know what a great teacher they had!" I wrote her back to say, 1) I don't have a traditional classroom anymore--it's true--but I feel I am still very much a teacher, and 2) Assuming I was as good a traditional classroom teacher as you seem to think, what makes you think my students didn't know that at the time? Of course, I was flattered by her comments. One of the best introductions I've ever had was "hearing Taylor Mali perform as a poet will make you wish you'd had him as a teacher." Other people have asked me, "Did your students know how lucky they were?" The truth is that I don't really know. So I'm asking you if you wouldn't mind writing me a kind of testimonial. I have no idea what I will use your comments for; maybe a blurb on the back of my next book? For this piece of writing (which could be as little as 100 words but probably needn't be longer than 500) consider your audience to be fans of mine who did NOT have me as a teacher. They want to know what I was like. What else? Leave questions for my former students here. Please email your testimonials directly to me at taylor at taylormali dot com (don't post them here). Thank you!

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What a great show!
If I do say so myself, we gave the DVD a wonderful introduction to the world last night. The show before us was kind enough to finish up 15 minutes before the hour so I had time to set up. The sushi was uncovered and had disappeared by 8:05. I got to watch and listen as the three women in Sahali (the a cappella group that started the evening: think Rumi meets Sweet Honey) warmed up their voices downstairs before the show. We started at 8:15 exactly. I performed one poem between most of the acts. Lynne Procope looked stunning in her orange shawl, and her duet with Roger was beautiful. At one point, during one of Roger's lines, she was relaxed enough to casually take a swig of her bourbon (no water on stage for her!). I totally messed up my rendition of "Kite," by Rives, perhaps because he was seeing me perform it for the first time after having heard from many what an awesome job I do with it. Oh well. Marie-Elizabeth was disarmingly gorgeous and killed her two poems (her mother, who has never seen her perform her poetry was in the audience). Some people came all the way from Vermont, others from Maryland; the place was packed. We sold a bunch of copies, and others said they would buy it online. Later, I had an impromptu party at my house at which several spoken word luminaries were in attendance (Patricia Smith, Buddy Wakefield, Jerry Quickly, Bassey). It was a great night. The DVD is now officially out there. I am exhausted and happy. Five more teachers and I'll be up to 100. Off to Mexico on Wednesday.

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DVD Release Party this Saturday at 8:00 pm
So for the last few weeks I've been heavily promoting the release party of "Taylor Mali & Friends: Live at the Bowery Poetry Club," which is this Saturday night at the Bowery Poetry Club (308 Bowery, between Houston & Bleecker, F train to Second Ave, or 6 train to Bleecker). The cards all say "free sushi," but what they don't mention is that there's also an open bar from 8:00 pm to 9:00 pm. That's right, for an hour, the drinks are free! So if you are, too, (free, that is) come on down to celebrate the release of a great new DVD. Shot on high-definition video at the release party of CONVICTION, it's a veritable who's who of spoken word (Lynne Procope & Roger Bonair-Agard, George & Rachel McKibbens, Shappy, and two amazing group pieces by that year's Urbana Slam team!)

There will be some overlap in the performers whom I have asked to perform on Saturday (Shappy, Lynne, and Roger, for example), but I'm supplementing the roster with other poets I love & respect including Rives, Sarah Kay, Marie-Elizabeth, and the vocal musings of the group Saheli! Since all proceeds from the sale of the DVD go to support educational charities, I'm going to have Michael Cirelli, the executive director of Urban Word (who will receive the first check once the project is in the black) say a few words. The DVD itself is $19.95, and it will be on sale at the show. But admission to the show is free! And the sushi (which will be gone by 8:15 pm at the latest) is free! And the drinks are free!

SO COME ON DOWN AND GET DRUNK, FED, AND ENTERTAINED FOR A GOOD CAUSE!

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Happy Birthday!
Today is the birthday of my friend Rob Neill, Chuck Berry, and Martin Luther King. If Dr. King were alive today, he might be pleased that his birthday fell on a Sunday. That way he could go to church and celebrate his birthday, but he wouldn't have to go to work the next day. This reminds me of the time I was substitute teaching in Maine in the mid 90s. It was April 4th. A girl asked me what the date was, and I started singing the song by U2, "Early morning, April four. Shot rings out in the Memphis sky-igh!" She gave me the look I often get from students, the one that says, "Please just answer my question without being WEIRD." I explain that it is the anniversary of the day Martin Luther King was killed. Her response: "Then how come today isn't Martin Luther King Day?" She quickly recanted her question when she thought through the implications, but the scary thing is that if some states had their way, it probably would be.

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iWPS Recap of the week
Last night Urbana had its qualifier slam to see who we would send to Charlotte to represent Urbana at the Third Annual Individual World Poetry Slam Championship. I was the emcee, and it was a great night overall. The field was strong, including finalists from last year (Akua, Jeanann, and Post Midnight) and semifinalists from this year (Emily Kagan, Darian Dauchan, Nicole Homer, Shappy, Bamboo MC, and Rives). We use the Austin structure: three-minute poems, then two-, then one-, then you let the final poets experiment with the four-minute poem. Random draw had Post Midnight going first, and he definitely lost a point to score creep. Jeananne went second with a great poem called (I suspect) "This is for the Women," which included the line, "This is for any woman who ever skipped shaving her legs because she wasn't going to get laid that night . . . then got laid that night anyway." Her 27.5 stayed the high score until Rives performed sixth with "Dearly Beloved/In the Beginning" (that's probably not the title because most of his poems have only one-word titles), which is my new favorite piece of his. It involves very little original writing at all; it's a pastiche of psalms, sermons, anthems, jokes, jingles, maxims, and cultural dialogue all brilliantly mixed up and flawlessly executed. Halfway through the piece he starts mixing in lines from all the poets who came before him, and there's always an audible gasp from the audience when they realize what he's doing. His 28.1 stays the high until Shappy, who drew the last spot, nails "Spoken Nerd" and gets a 28.3. So Shappy has to go first in the two-minute round, and he does a new piece called "I Hate Freedom!" which is wonderful. The two-minute round is the trickiest in my opinion, because whereas anyone can stretch a joke, or an observation, or a haiku, or even a gesture into a decent one-minute poem, and most four-minute poems are just relaxed renditions of three-minute poems, the two-minute poem is neither fish nor fowle. Slam poets just don't write poems in two-minute lengths. Anyway, Rives goes second with a new poem probably called "Muse" and gets a 28.5 which stays the high score throughout the rest of the round. Emily, Nicole, and Akua also score well, as does Post, but not enough to save him from the cut. Also dropped after round two were Bamboo MC and Darian (two nice guys who will be back in the spring I'm sure) and Jeananne, who missed the cut just barely. So we head into the one-minute round with Rives now leading the competition by three dimes ("dime" is my new slang term for a "tenth of a point," and I would appreciate some help in bringing it into the slam vernacular). He goes first and wins the round again. Shappy's poem about working with deaf and incontinent children and staging "Poet-PEE Slams" is a good-humored jab at Rives. Emily goes overtime and gets the first time penalty of the night (we give all the poets an EXTRA 10 seconds because we don't want the best poet to not win just because she or he still has some rehearsing to do. If Bar-13 followed the same policy, Roger would have won their iWPS qualifier on Monday). So in the final round it was Akua, Shappy, and Rives, whose lead is now five dimes (we crown our iWPS champ on cumulative score over the course of the whole night). Akua does a relaxed version of a three-minute poem of hers called "Courage," but still comes in at 3:28 and so incurs a half-point time penalty (we instituted a new rule last year: All four minute poems must be at least 3:30 or else they incur a time penalty, half a point for every 10 seconds under). Shappy performs "Sensitive Little Poetry Boy" and nails it with a 28.3." Then Rives, on his way up to the stage, whispers in my ear, "Please remember my time on this poem." I figure he's going to try something new that isn't entirely finished yet, but he launches into "Glaucoma," which I know is really short! Is he going to couple it with another poem? No, he ends after 90 seconds! There is thunderous applause and the judges give him a 28.6 which would have been the high score of the round (indeed, of the night!) had he not incurred a whopping six-point time penalty! So Shappy wins, Akua takes second, and Rives, third. Shappy will represent Urbana, but Akua and Rives are going anyway! Akua had already decided that she would try to compete as a Storm poet, and Rives won Monday at Bar 13 so he'll represent them. Could Rives have beaten Shappy fair and square with a four-minute poem? Did he decide to let Shappy win because of Shappy's long history with Urbana (Shappy will be taking over as Slam Master some time this year)? Or is he going with Bar-13 so as to deliberatley keep Roger Bonair-Agard OUT of the competition? Should Roger try to go as a Storm poet? Was Rives also planning on going to iWPS as a Storm poet should he happen to qualify at neither Bar-13 or Urbana? All good questions to which we will never have answers.

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EXCITING NEWS
A book I narrated last year, "The Revenge of the Whale," about the fateful voyage of the Essex, the only whaler ever known to be attacked and sunk by a whale, just won a 2005 Listen Up Award from Publisher's Weekly. Read the full article at: http://www.publishersweekly.com/article/CA6295333?pubdate=1/2/2006&display=c urrent

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I'm off to my interview on XM radio!
I wonder if they'll let me promote my DVD release party at the Bowery Poetry Club on Saturday, January 21st, at 8 pm? I'm in full steam promotion mode. In fact, I should be addressing cards right now.

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If you have not bought a 2006 calendar yet . . .
I have one you should consider (but not tease me about!) I was at a holiday cocktail party last night, and I met an adjunct professor at UPenn named Jennifer. She is the director of something called The Writers' House and although she doesn't know my work personally, she has several students who are fans. But before she knew who I was, she said, "Aren't you Mr. July in The Most Intriguing and Sensual Male Poets of 2006 Calendar?" Yes, folks, it's true. It's all for charity, and here's what they say:

It is a pleasure to announce the publication of The Most Intriguing and Sensual Male Poets of 2006 Calendar. This high-quality calendar features sizzling photos and poems from new poets as well as seasoned veterans: Richard Blanco, Randall Mann, Charles Jensen, Lee Herrick, John Saynt, Taylor Mali, Jon Bohrn, William Allegrezza, Michael Parker, Woody Loverude, Steven Reigns, and Geoff Brock. Behind the faces of this calendar, you will find the experience of seven university instructors, a poet-in-residence, literary director, columnist, an award-winning independent film actor & national slam champion, and editors & co-editors of recognized poetry e-zines and magazines.

The photos appear in full-bleed dynamic color, printed on 100 lb text weight, high-gloss paper. The calendar also exhibits oversized date-boxes that provide the user with plenty of room to write in important events. All proceeds from this calendar will benefit the CFIDS Association of America.

Many people think that Chronic Fatigue Immune Dysfunction Syndrome (CFIDS), is a condition that just makes you tired. Though that is one extremely significant symptom, it is not the only one.

CFIDS affects concentration, short-term memory, the ability to learn new things, problems with equilibrium, and vision impairments. It can also cause tinnitis, muscular 'roaming' pain, noise sensitivity, sore throats and voice loss, extreme migraines, TMJ, a difficulty in following conversations, also known as 'brain fog', to list the main symptoms.

In the past, government agencies have ignored this illness. Medical schools have not taught about it. There are barely enough funds for adequate research. There are no telethons for CFIDS, nor are there any celebrities raising money.

The purpose of this calendar is to make people aware of CFIDS as well as support funding for research. In this era of advanced technology and medicine, it is our belief that we can help fund a cure for the ‘forgotten illness.

CLICK HERE to order or view the pictures.

God bless Asia (the band, that is)
If you know my poem "Voice of America Voiceover," you know that I quote a line from "The Heat of the Moment," which is a song by Asia and one of the first videos to air on the nascent MTV in the early 80s. The same line is also quoted in an episode of South Park by Cartman in his address to the United States Senate. I saw that episode and laughed my butt off, and that's what made me choose that song to put in my poem. Now get this: Sukh is a student at a university in BC who thinks he wants to work with kids. He's watching South Park one night and sees the episode in question and loves it. He doesn't know the song so he Googles one of the lines: "Do you remember when we used to dance?" My website pops up second and third (before the Asia websites, oddly), and he goes there to check it out. "Voice of America" intrigues him and he reads another poem. Then another. Eventually he reads "What Teachers Make" and, in his words, "I downloaded your poem and listened to it, and that's when I decided that teaching is what I really want to do. I'm just about to finish my first term at the school I'm attending right now. After 60 credits I'm transferring to a larger school to complete my major then take the 1 year teaching course." Ladies and gentlemen, I am now at 90 teachers. Only 910 more to go!

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New Teachers #88 and #89
In June of 2000 I set a goal for myself: to direct 1,000 people into the field of teaching through poetry, persuasion, perseverance, or passion. One of the very first was my friend Noel Jones, a teammate on the NYC-Urbana slam team of 2000. Although she only taught part time, she said her decision to even consider teaching at all was due in large part to the passion and insight of my poetry about teaching. She suggested I start counting. So I did. And tonight I am happy to report that I have made some progress in my quest:

Carlyn says I helped her realize how much she wants to teach math & science. Lauren writes, "I have been in the classroom every day this semester and will be until I student teach in the spring of 2007. Every day in the classroom is a gift, and it reaffirms the decision you helped me make three years ago. I also thought you should know that all of my education major friends are obsessed with 'Poems from the Like Free Zone' and 'Conviction.' We listen to both on road trips and almost all of us can recite 'What Teachers Make.'" Although I can imagine several CDs I would rather listen to on a road trip, I am honored. Congratulations to my newest heroes. Maybe you’re one of my 1,000 and you never told me? If that’s the case, send me an email that says “You Can Count Me!” and briefly (but eloquently, because I may quote you here) explain how my work might have figured into your decision to pursue a career in education.

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Eliel Lucero at the old folks home!

Once every few months or so I bring a different group of poets to a senior citizens' residence center on the upper east side and perform for an adoring clutch of mostly old ladies. Today I brought Emily Kagan, Darian Dauchon, and Eliel (pictured above). The social worker said it was the "best group ever." Before that I visited the TAG school on 109th Street to teach two classes for a Teach for America teacher named Allison W.. It was great, except that two kids, when asked to describe a memory chose, independently to relate their experiences from "the first time I got jumped." I feel sometimes as though I did not grow up in the real world.

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All kinds of updates
On the Friday after Thanksgiving, my new DVD went on sale. "Taylor Mali & Friends: Live at the Bowery Poetry Club" is a collection of highlights from an event filmed at the Bowery Poetry Club a few years ago in which over a dozen amazing performance poets took to the stage to perform solos, duets, and group pieces. It also contains an interview with me conducted by an assistant professor of English at Burlington County College and broadcast on their campus TV station. We talk about poetry, teaching, life, and death, and the interview is interspliced with footage of me performing two rarely seen poems (including “Undivided Attention”). "Taylor Mali & Friends: Live at the Bowery Poetry Club" is available at www.taylormali.com in the Books & CDs section. All profits from the sale of this DVD go to support educational charities.

I'm also happy to report that I am up to 87 teachers I helped to create through poetry, passion, pedagogy, and perseverance. James M. will be a teacher despite having recently decided to drop his Education major. "I've decided that to be a good teacher, I must get every single credit out of my undergraduate career to learn interesting subjects, anthropology, art history, music, political science. After I graduate, I'm going to attend grad school, and learn how to 'be a teacher' and then enter the profession of teaching."
Samantha S. is pursuing a degree in Secondary Education with an emphasis on integrated Language Arts and a possible minor in Creative Writing.
Brandon R. is a freshman in San Jose, but he has been a teacher all his life.
Jasmine S. writes, "Since I was in junior high I have wanted to change the world and help all of humanity, a large undertaking. I have been struggling with the best way to do that." She has decided to become a teacher (although being a Power Ranger might also do the trick.
Jared E. wants to save the world one 8th grader at a time.
Denise saw me read a few years ago at The Telephone Bar and writes, "At the time, I was going to school for a degree in publishing. After graduating the next semester, I went back to school for a degree in Secondary Education. I am now a middle/high school English teacher. Although I have always wanted to be a teacher, your words certainly helped steer me in the right direction. When I met you, I told you I was one of the people you had influenced. The fact that I am now teaching is proof of that. I just wanted to say thank you. "
David G. says I taught him teaching is about more than multiple choice tests. Maybe I can make it to 100 before the end of the year.

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Five more toward my goal!
The following new teachers represent #75 through #79 in my quest for 1,000 new teachers. I still have a few more in my inbox to go through. And can I count you? Has my work in any way influenced you to begin pursuing a career in education? If so, write me and tell me about it. Until then, these are my latest heroes.

Brian J. was a biomedical engineering major who says, "The day I changed majors in college into education was the best day of my life, and I owe a bit of gratitude toward your written word."

Katie W. drank a coke while I had a few beers and expounded on the nobility of teaching. She writes, "Between your spontaneous performances of Billy Collins's poetry and Liza's boundless enthusiasm, I realized how cool teaching could be. I knew it before, but I understood it then. And now."

James C. says he was "shooting for an English position, but they needed Math, and so I'm teaching Algebra 2 and Geometry to 8-12 graders in a private day school."

Catherine M. tells of being "somewhat inebriated on a Friday night in my local haunt. I stumbled upon an old school friend who could not for the life of her understand why I wanted to be a teacher. I looked at her with my somewhat bleary eyes, and I managed to say 'I make a &*$#! difference, what about you?'"

Aaron D. writes, "You showed me the courage required, the often tedious time it takes, and the reason that this teaching thing is all that we have. We live in a very divergent and unbelievably ignorant country, but if we start to teach, not white-man's history, creationism, or blind obedience, but instead concepts such as intellectual individualism, conviction, and empathy, we might begin to change the negativity and stupidity that surrounds us all." Anyone else?

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Two Hats & a Head of Hair

Me, Bob Holman (the owner of the Bowery Poetry Club), and Billy Collins on Saturday night after the reading. From what I can remember, it went very well. I was exhausted and jetlagged, of course, the show having begun at 8 PM (which was 2 AM Danish time!), but the exhilaration of performing side-by-side with my idol kept me going. Akua rocked two poems at the top of the show and warmed up the crowd, and then Billy and I went poem-for-poem for about an hour. His poems are a lot shorter than mine (damn the poetry slam!) so occasionally he would read two to my one. Secretly, we were BOTH AFRAID the other guy would make us look bad (Billy confessed this to my sister afterward when he came back to my house to party. Oh yeah, did I mention that Billy Collins came to the after party at my house?!), but frankly, we both came out okay. I am still floating. What a great start to the week. And this Thursday is the 8th anniversary of the Urbana Poetry Slam! Can this week get any better?

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What's the best caption for this photograph?

This was taken yesterday here at the Copenhagen International School. Help me by coming up with a good caption for it. In other news, I leave tomorrow morning for New York City for my reading with Billy Collins. Wish me luck (with my travel plans AND my perfromance!)

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Greetings from Paris!
What a great day (of course, it's hard to have a bad day in Paris; even when it's drizzling, as it is today, the city's charm is undiminished). I'm here at the Mediterranean Association of International Schools. I taught a workshop this morning and did a few poems as part of the general session that ended about an hour ago. Tonight we (my agent Brett met me here last night and will be travelling with me to Zurich) are going out with some old friends of mine for dinner. And to top it all off, I got another teacher in my quest for 1,000! Heather H. was one of my students at Kansas State University. Back then, I made my students call me "Comrade Mali" (because I felt so left wing in Kansas, coming from Berkely!). I remember I was so nervous on the first day that I sweated through my shirt all over. Heather writes: "You can count me as a teacher that has been influenced and inspired by you. Perhaps I go back further than any other... I first met you as Comrade Mali, my English Composition teacher at Kansas State University. Yes, I remember the details, perhaps because I was so poorly matched on this campus and so depressed that any positive moments are etched in my memory. Your class, is really the only class I remember from this time in my life. The first day of class you opened with spoken word poetry and such theatrics and sweat that our teenage faces were red from embarrassment and shock that someone could expose themselves to us in such a way. We read James Joyce and it felt so important. You had us meet you for coffee at the café to discuss our papers on a Saturday afternoon. Even when you taught revision, it was poetic. Since then, I have been a social worker and gone to graduate school to become a teacher. I write. I teach in Seattle Public schools as an elementary substitute teacher. I’m studying and witnessing everyday the extreme disparities in our schools. So, although you did not directly tell me to become a teacher, I am. And certainly you made a difference in my life. Thank you for teaching me how to be a better writer and for presenting yourself in a way that showed me what it means to make myself vulnerable and accessible to my students." Yay, Heather! You are #74!

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Three more towards 1,000!
Greetings from an overcast morning in London (I guess that's a little redundant). I am three teachers closer to my goal of 1,000 new teachers by 2006. Ashley P. (#71), Lisa E. (#72), Topher C. (#3). Topher writes, "I wanted to let you know that I completed my application for Teach for America tonight. If I don't get in, I'm looking to enter the Ed.D. program co-taught by the University of Rhode Island and Rhode Island College, or else begin my term as a high school educator. I'm not sure what field I'd like to teach. I love every field I've studied, and have the background in math, the sciences and English. Any way I flow, I plan on teaching passionately and loving what I do. So, thank you, for inspiring me to take a chance and try to change-- because you were right when you described changing the world as a process of one eighth-grader at a time." With any luck, I’ll be reporting more good news soon! Maybe you’re one of my 1,000 and you never told me? If that’s the case, send me an email that says “You Can Count Me!” and briefly (but eloquently, because I may quote you here) explain how my work might have figured into your decision to pursue a career in education. If you’re a journalist, and this story appeals to you, I invite you to tell it. How can I be of service?

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Emil Brikha and me in Stockholm last night!

Emil is a big Sage Francis fan who heard my poem "How to Write a Political Poem" on one of Sage's CDs years ago. He is Iranian by birth (actually an Assyrian, but they haven't had an empire since Sennacherib's time) but has lived in Sweden since the age of two. He speaks fantastic English and "better Swedish than most Swedes." He's been trying to get me to come to Sweden for about two years. Last night I met him for the first time, along with four other Swedes, two from Göteborg (!), who learned of my work the same way. We all went out for a beer after my evening gig at the Stockholm international school and hung out. It was a wonderful evening. Now I am in Aberdeen getting ready for a full day of teaching tomorrow. What will I do with the 2nd grade, that's my question. Had a single malt scotch with dinner, but I think I'll stick to the Scottish ales. Off to Madrid on Thursday.

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From "The Berkshire Eagle" this morning

Greetings from Williamstown, MA, on a crisp, clear, autumn day. Had a wonderful performance at Mt. Greylock High School last night, and this morning this picture was on the front page of the local paper (minus the "Preview," which indicates I stole it from their website). Tonight, I have a show at Williams College, my last American gig until November 12th. I leave for Stockholm tomorrow. I'm tired already.

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Getting ready for the big day!

This is the flier for my reading with Billy Collins on November 12th at the Bowery Poetry Club. Five thousand copies of this flier just arrived in my office. The reading is in a little less than a month. Normally, that would be fine. I’d take them with me everywhere I went and pass them out. But I leave for Europe on Monday, and I won’t be back until (get this) THE DAY OF THE SHOW! That’s right, on Saturday, November 12th, I will wake up in Copenhagen, fly to New York City, shower, sleep, and then perform in arguably the most important show of my life! Needless to say, in the event that my flight gets delayed, I have an emergency replacement: Rives. He has offered to show up that night not fully knowing if he will be half the show or a part of “the great audience great poetry requires.”

If you would like to be a part of the same audience, I urge you to buy your tickets in advance online. Go to www.virtuous.com, select "New York City," then select "Bowery Poetry Club." If the event doesn't show up automatically, click on November 12th on the calendar to the right and you will be all set. Tickets cost $20 (plus a $2 handling fee). I know that’s expensive, but it's still better than buying a $25-ticket at the door (if there are any tickets left). Doors open at 7:30 pm, show starts promptly at 8 pm.

In terms of format, I offered to open for Billy, but he said he would rather we both occupy the stage together and alternate reading, poem for poem, back and forth. I admit that is the format I was dreaming for, and I tremble with joy at the prospect!

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I'm going to try to slam tomorrow night at Urbana
Yes, I have retired from national team slam competition, but I always intended to throw my name into the hat every now and then at a local slam, and I am going to do so tomorrow night at Urbana. I have a new process for writing poetry and it's called Reveiling. What does that mean? Reveiling involves first reVEALING a secret, something you've never let yourself write about before. Next, you reVILE it, and wallow in the embarrassment of it. Then you reVEL in it; turn it into a celebration somehow. And lastly you reVEIL it by putting a new veil over it, one that makes you see the whole incident in a new light. I heard Billy Collins say something similar recently. He said you need to give yourself permission to write about the things you think you shouldn't write about.

This is all by way of saying that I have three poems ready to read in the slam tomorrow that were all written with this process. If I get chosen to be in the slam—it's a random process, and there's no guarantee that I'll make the cut—the poem may BOMB in the first round and I'll be mortified. The three new poems I'm planning on doing are "Holding Your Position," about a recording I made on a tape recorder when I was 11, "The Best Conversation About Race I Never Had," about the time I was called a nig&&er by this guy, and "Sex with Donald Trump," which is about a dream I had Monday night. Anyway, should make for an interesting night! Come if you can!

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Four Mali Males!

That's my brother Peter in red on the left holding Henry, his first son, now two. I'm holding Winter, who had his one-month birthday while I was down in DC last weekend protesting the war and celebrating a sustainable future at GreenFest. There are a few other Mali men sprinkled over the world, but none so handsome as these! Off to Urbana to hear Jeff McDaniel tonight!

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Back from a weekend of protest in DC
My poetry is not likely to get more political, but I think it's high time that I did. This weekend I hung out with and marched with some of the women from CODE PINK: WOMEN FOR PEACE. How many of us were there? It's hard to say; it always feels like millions when you're in the middle of it, but there certainly would have been more if a mysterious and unexplained power outage in New Jersey hadn't canceled all Amtrak trains for most of Saturday. What did I learn this weekend? There have been over 100,000 Iraqi casualties in the war. A country that is against free trade (insofar as global privatization = free trade) is not necessarily undemocratic. One of the first code names for the war in Iraq (besides Operation Infinite Justice) was Operation Iraqi Liberation, but they changed it when they realized it spelled OIL. And finally, every little act of rebellion helps. WHAT IS MY ACT OF REBELLION THIS WEEK? I am preparing New York City for an influx of high school poets next April who are learning how to step up and speak for themselves. Come meet some of them and me this Wednesday, September 28th, at 6 pm, at the Bowery Poetry Club in New York City.

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All Hail The New Teachers!
I have let mail pile up in my inbox for the last month and only this morning have I acted on all but two messages. IN my goal to create 1,000 new teachers, I have several new converts to announce. Phom (#61) lives in Bournemouth, a place Douglas Adams mentions on numerous occasions in “The Hitchikers Guide To The Galaxy” as one of the "hardest places to have a good time in the universe." He saw me perform in Oxford and now wants to follow in the footsteps of the greatest teacher he ever had, Mr. Kearney, from Belfast. John S. (#62) is from “Middle of Nowhere, Michigan” and decided he wanted to teach after watching the first season of Def Poetry Jam. He has extensive training in the martial arts, which should come in handy. John T. (#63) was a theater major but has switched to elementary education; he read my poem to 4th grader at camp named Khalil and they talked about how it “almost makes you cry.” Paul B. (#64) is another theater major convert who got exposed to my work by a great English teacher in high school. H. Kimbel (#65) writes, “Obviously it takes an innate desire and previous experiences with teachers (both good and bad) to drive [anyone’s decision to teach, but you] have done your part in creating another teacher, obviously not for the money, or authority, but for the experience.” Amy D. (#66) lives in Miami and is “soooooo excited” about going back to school to teach. Aaron P. (#67) attends the University of Central Arkansas and was shown several episodes of Def Poetry Jam by his favorite teacher. H. Kennedy (#68), a big fan of Rives who was performing in the Edinburgh Fringe Festival at the same time, writes, “as each day passes, I find it troubling to think of how'd I'd feel about any other occupation that didn't CHANGE things the way great teachers do.” I used to only count people who wrote to me and said, “I am now a teacher, and you are part of the reason I became one,” but as my deadline looms I’ve been easing my standards a little. Now I’ll count you as one of my 1,000 if you’re still in college but you’ve decided to switch majors to become a teacher. I haven’t started counting high school students yet, but maybe I’ll have to soon! Many veteran teachers have suggested I keep another list of teachers who I have inspired NOT TO QUIT teaching (at least for another year), and I may well start such a list. With any luck, I’ll be reporting more good news soon! Maybe you’re one of my 1,000 and you never told me? If that’s the case, send me an email that says “You Can Count Me!” and briefly (but eloquently, because I may quote you here) explain how my work might have figured into your decision to pursue a career in education. If you’re a journalist, and this story appeals to you, I invite you to tell it. How can I be of service?

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UPDATE: My Nov. 12th reading with Billy Collins!
Since I've received quite a few emails about this, I'm happy to report that advance tickets are now available for my reading with Billy on November 12th. Go to www.virtuous.com, select "New York City," then select "Bowery Poetry Club." If the event doesn't show up automatically, click on November 12th on the calendar to the right and you will be all set. Advance tickets are $20 (plus a $2 handling charge), which is steep, I know, but it's BILLY COLLINS, and we need to charge that much so that we don't overrun the BPC. Day-of-show tickets (if there are any left) will available at the door for $25. Can you tell that I'm really hoping that you buy your tickets now online? Below is a picture from last year (when I was 30 pounds heavier!)

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Giving credit where credit is due
I really need to be more forthcoming about the story behind the artwork for CONVICTION, my live CD of 2003, because the truth of the matter is that I have nothing to hide. "This design is based on the work of Jim FLora, an illustrator in the 1940s": that's what my graphic designer said about the design below, which I decided to go with because I loved it. The CD hadn't been out more than a week before Shappy, the emcee of Urbana and the bartender at the Bowery Poetry Club, said he had seen the album that the artwork for mine "was based on" and that mine was pretty close to plagiarizing. After I saw the original, I agreed. I was horrified! How can I talk about the theft of plagiarism when I had this skeleton in my closet? Needless to say, lawyers got involved. "It's an obvious homage," the illustrator said. I said it was an embarrassment. When all was said and done, an arrangement was made with the Jim FLora foundation, and all subsequent printings of CONVICTION credit Jim Flora. Everything is cool now. Check out the original album design by clicking the comments for this entry. You'll be shocked.

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My best photo from the weekend
My cousin got married on Saturday. Just like in that famous boxing photograph, this one just happened to be taken at the moment someone else's flash went off. Look at the outline of Henry's head. He's my first cousin's child, which makes him my . . . Anyone?

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I finally figured something out
I was at the theater last week watching "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels," which made a much better musical than it did a movie in my opinion. Anyway, in the program I read a bio of two actors. I don't think it had anything to do with the show; it was more of a fluff piece, may even have been part of an advertisement. Something like a testimonial: these two famous actors like to go to this restaurant or something like that. Regardless, one idiotic sentence in the bio began, "Their movie roles, separately or together, include..." and then went on to list a number of well known movies. But which what it? Separate? Or together? Either it is a list of the movies they've each been in or it is a list of only the ones they've been in together. It cannot be both. I couldn't understand how anyone could write such an unclear sentence. Then I figured it out. The original sentence probably began "Their movie roles include," and then some anal editor got confused and asked "Separate? or Together?" in the margin but forgot to add the question marks. Then it got passed on to another writer who thought it was a phrase to be included in the copy. Now I can sleep.

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Urbana Poetry Slam starts tonight!
And the feature is Buddy Wakefield, the two-time Individual World Poetry Slam Champion. Wakefield is a great example of someone who has taken a world-class dysfunctional family (he had something like 8 parents) and turned it into stunning poetry. He's a great performer physically as well. We're trimming our open mic from 10 poets down to 8 because we're trying to end by 9:30 this year. Other than that, everything is the same, especially Shappy. See you tonight at 7:01 PM at the Bowery Poetry Club (308 Bowery, between Houston & Bleecker, F train to Second Ave, or 6 train to Bleecker).

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Meet me at Bar-13 Monday night
The feature is my main man, Rives. If you get there at 8:00 pm you should catch some of the open mic. He'll go on shortly thereafter.

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Before New Orleans was under water
Power has just been restored to the company that manages this website (they're in Pensacola) so now I can update. But as so often happens, now what I wanted to write about doesn't seem appropriate. So below is just one picture from my diving trip in Bonaire. It was great. I got my open, advanced, and nitrox certification taken care of and didn't drown. Had my first gig of the season on Wednesday at Boston University, and it was really good. September is a little low key, but that'll give me more time to work on my ms for "Definitely Beautiful." In other news, a project that began almost two years ago, "Taylor Mali & Friends: Live at the Bowery Poetry Club," is inching closer to completion.

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So these four white guys go to a baseball game . .
I had great seats to the Met game vs. the Washington Nationals tonight, and I ended up going with Michael Cirelli, Chad Anderson, and Rives. We looked like a squad of F.B.I. agents out for the evening and trying to BLEND. Mets won, 1-0, and I'm home before midnight. Yes. They were all making fun of me because, when asked whose name was on my baseball glove (as in, you know, "Willie Mays," "Babe Ruth," or whatever) I said Jane Mali. It's true; I inherited my mother's baseball glove. So they started talking about my moms like she was some unsung baseball great of the 30s and 40s, Jumpin' Jane Mali! Meanwhile, all the way there Rives was cutting and sculpting this flier he'd been carrying around--I don't even know what it was for. The head bobbles and there are weird things sticking out of it. On the train ride back, he finished it. Then, very casually, he left it there. So here's the poet who isn't interested in producing a book, cd, or dvd; but sit in his seat and you'll get a disturbing piece of engineered paper.

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Back from the National Poetry Slam!
Because of torrential rains in New York City yesterday, I spent the night in a cheap hotel at O'Hare. That's right, my flight was canceled. Not Shappy's flight, his took off a little late. Just mine and the rest of the team's flight. Except that Akua and Chad flew standby on a 7 a.m. flight and Post Midnight was able to redirect himself on a flight to Newark (which is closer to his house anyway). Doesn't matter. I still had a great time. Danny Solis, Don McGiver, Susan McCallister, and the rest of the Albuquerque organizing committee did a fabulous job. And Urbana did well, too! We made it to the Friday night semifinals where we came in 3rd. When it was obvious that we could not win, my team let me go up solo to perform my last poem in National Poetry Slam competition. I did "For the Life of Me," a poem I wrote about Rebecca's death 11 months ago yesterday. It felt good, particularly because I had performed "What Teachers Make" the night before and felt somewhat sheepish about bringing out such an old poem. Is this a real retirement from the National Poetry Slam? Well, yes, I hope so. I will still slam at Urbana every now and then, and I may try to get to the LEAF slam, and maybe even iWPS, and I'll still organize and emcee and stuff, but after 12 years I've really had enough of the National Poetry Slam. And what a great National Poetry Slam to go out with! Highlights include: broadcasting the finals on KUNM public radio with Joel Chmara (we made a good team!); watching Shappy win the Slammasters' Slam with "I Hate All Wars (Except Star Wars)"; having everyone tell me that I looked like I was 10 years younger (how fat was I last year!?); all the day events, especially the Latino Showcase; and of course, The Hotel Blue itself, which won the Spirit of the Slam award. If you were in Albuquerque and will be in the area, please come to Urbana on Thursday. Before our annual Cover Slam (memorization NOT required) we're going to invite everyone who was there to come up and share a quick memory. Not in the New York area? Leave a memory here.

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And another one makes 60!
I'm here at the National Poetry Slam in Albuquerque. Today is the first day of preliminaries (see my calendar, my team competes at 7 pm at Club OPM tonight). And what better way to start this poetry competition than to learn that my work figured into the decision of another person to enter the teaching profession! His name is Phom Duce and he writes: "I'm not sure if I count in your count. I live on the south coast of England in a place called Bournemouth. Douglas Adams mentions this place on numerous occasions in The Hitchikers Guide To The Galaxy as one of the hardest places to have a good time in the universe. Although that sounds harsh, it also happens to be true. Your count may only include Americans, but seeing as you're slackening the rules I thought I'd write. I saw you perform at the four nations poetry slam in Oxford and particularly enjoyed certain hand gestures which accompanied your performance of 'What Teachers Make'. I wouldn't say you were my biggest influence in wanting to teach but certainly part of the picture. My biggest influence is a teacher at my former secondary school. He is from Belfast and called Paul Kearney. He is an absolute legend. It would take far too long to write why." Congratulations Phom, my new hero, and to Paul Kearney, the legend! Who is next? Write me.

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Just got #59 in my quest for 1,000 teachers!
In June of 2000 I set a goal for myself: to direct 1,000 people into the field of teaching through poetry, persuasion, perseverance, or passion. One of the very first was my friend Noel Jones, a teammate on the NYC-Urbana slam team of 2000. Although she only taught part time, she said her decision to even consider teaching at all was due in large part to the passion and insight of my poetry about teaching. She suggested I start counting. So I did. But it was a journalist who told me that it wouldn’t be a story unless I gave myself a deadline. That’s when I gave myself until 2006, which seemed like a long way off until recently! I used to only count people who wrote to me and said, “I am now a teacher, and you are part of the reason I became one,” but as my deadline looms I’ve been easing my standards a little. Now I’ll count you as one of my 1,000 if you’re still in college but you’ve decided to switch majors to become a teacher. I haven’t started counting high school students yet, but maybe I’ll have to soon! Many veteran teachers have suggested I keep another list of teachers who I have inspired NOT TO QUIT teaching (at least for another year), and I may well start such a list. But today, I am simply happy to report that I have made some progress in my quest for 1,000 new teachers: Matthew lives in Warwick, RI, and writes, "My friend made me listen to "What Teachers Make" about a week ago and it has changed my life. I always wanted to change the world, even if it was only one person at a time. I wanted to have an affect on people, and listening to that track makes me want to become a teacher." With any luck, I’ll be reporting more good news soon! Maybe you’re one of my 1,000 and you never told me? If that’s the case, send me an email that says “You Can Count Me!” and briefly (but eloquently, because I may quote you here) explain how my work might have figured into your decision to pursue a career in education. If you’re a journalist, and this story appeals to you, I invite you to tell it. How can I be of service?

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Went swimming in a waterfall yesterday
I'm upstate resting and preparing for the National Poetry Slam, which starts next Wednesday in Albuquerque, NM. We are as prepared as we'll ever be. We have tough bouts, and it'll be a struggle even to make it to the Friday night semifinal, but that is the nature of slam. It's random, not fair, and certainly not easy. And if the audiences are packed with people who AREN'T watching TV, well then everyone wins, don't they? Yesterday at about 3 pm, I went to High Falls, NY, and went swimming. The swimming hole is right next to a small waterfall (maybe 8 or 9 feet) and a hydroelectric power facility. I sat under the falls facing down river and let the water pummel my shoulders. Then I crawled behind the falls and hung out in the little cave there; there's not enough space to really kick back, and you can't stay dry like in other caves, but is wonderful to be close to that much water.

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Tonight is the last regional slam at Bar-13
And if I didn't need another reason to retire from slamming after this year, let me point out that my team, NYC-Urbana, did admirably at the first two regional slams at the Bowery Poetry Club and the Nuyorican, coming in third and second, respectively. Then I came back to town and met up with them for the regional out in Brooklyn (and I mean OUT in Brooklyn! The cab driver didn't even know how to get there). We came in dead last place, thank you very much. Whatever I can do to help my team! But we learned a lot, some of which we already suspected. Tonight is another 5x3 (Team Acentos will fill out the roster) and we've got a good set planned. So far, the Nuyorican is in the lead with a combined rank of 5, Brooklyn (NYC's newest venue) is in second with 7, Bar-13 has 8, and Urbana has 9 (I might be off by a few digits). Anyway, this is the team's last chance to try some stuff out. Should be a blast.

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Behold the new NYC-Urbana CD: New High Score!
It arrived today, just in time for the CD release party next Thursday at the Send-off party/Heckle Slam! This CD is a veritable who's who of the contemporary Spoken Word Scene (plus Billy Collins, Kid Beyond, and Danny Hoch who are really in their own categories). Who is on it, you ask? How about Mike McGee, Patricia Smith, Rives, Queen Sheba, Sou MacMillan (with Ron Dumont), Jeffrey McDaniel, Andrea Gibson, Joaquin Zihuatanejo, Daphne Gotleib, Wammo, Suzanne La Follette, Geoff Trenchard, Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz, Kent Foreman, Barbara Adler, Taylor Mali, Corrina Bain, Shappy and more! Several of these poets appeared on this season of Def Poetry Jam performing the poems that we have here! I say this every year, but this really is the best Urbana cd ever. Available August 4th at the Bowery Poetry Club in New York City or online at www.thewordsmithpress.com.

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Greetings from Space Camp!
I took this picture a few years ago, but this Saturn 5 rocket still looms over NASA's Space Camp, which plays host every summer to the 50 Teachers-of-the-Year. Tonight I am their inspirational/motivational/educational speaker. It's one of my favorite gigs of the year because I am speaking directly to my demographic. Not only that, but these teachers are some of the best in the country! They come here and perform Space Missions just like the kids do. An that makes sense. After all, "He or she who dares to teach must never cease to learn."

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New York City Regional Poetry Slams begin Thursday
This is Team NYC-Urbana 2005 (from L to R: Post Midnight, Chad Anderson, Akua, and me). We're off to Albuquerque on Agust 9th to compete in the 2005 National Poetry Slam. But before we go, we (or various forms of us) will be competing against the three other New York City poetry slam teams in each of our four respective venues. The first is this Thursday at the Bowery Poetry Club. Unlike the other slams, Urbana insists every year that the poetry performed at our regional must be NEW, never-before-heard work. So you won't be hearing all those tired poems you've heard too many times! You also won't be hearing from me unfortunately. I have a gig out of town, but I'll be back for the Saturday slam in Brooklyn. See my calendar for details. By the way, I'm back from BC. While there, I met a woman named Peggy Taylor who beat me three out of four games in SCRABBLE! They were all really close games, and she was a really competitive person in a charming way. When we left, she said, "We'll have to play again next year, you know, when you're . . . a better player!"

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Grudge Slam is this Thursday!
I am back from Sweden (and Washington DC, where I had a great time at the DC Slam last night), and I'm getting ready for a wine tasting party at my house tonight. Before you start laughing you should know: it's actually a Sauvignon Blanc tasting (my love affair with Chardonnay being over!). One of the guests is my friend Tim, a veritable oenophile, who I'm counting on to provide us with some background info (such as, why do so many good Sauvignon Blancs come from the New Marlborough region of New Zealand, and why do they have twist-off caps and not corks!). Rebecca used to describe Tim as what I might have become if left unchecked. For instance, he loves Seer Sucker suits ("On a hot August day? There's nothing like them!"), and I was never allowed to get one (contrary to popular belief, the are not required WASP wear). On Wednesday I return to the old folks home for another of my bi-monthly "Taylor Mali & Friends" readings. This time, my special guests are none other than Rives and Bassey! These old ladies are getting an amazing education in contemporary spoken word! Then this Thursday, Urbana hosts the annual Grudge Slam (it's maybe the 4th or 5th year we've done this!). Urbana is taking on three other teams in a knockdown, dragout, metaphorical slugfest: Team Boston-Cantab (one of the oldest slam venues in the nation), Team Central Jersey (who beat us on their home turf back in May), and Team Rives (a hand-picked team captained by New York's newest resident). It'll be an event not to be missed! It's at the Bowery Poetry Club (308 Bowery, between Houston & Bleecker, F train to Second Ave, or 6 train to Bleecker), and the admission is the regular $6. Email me with questions/predictions.

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Remember the Swedish Chef on The Muppet Show?
So does all of Sweden. They loved him! I would never in a million years have thought that I would end up singing his theme song so many times while here in Sweden. I would have thought they'd be insulted. But no. Curious thing is, though, they can't imitate him so well as I can. Yes, I have a good memory for voices and accents and dialogue and such, but I also think it's easier to imitate a language if you don't speak it. Sometimes I try to imitate English as someone would who didn't understand a word. It's hard. Last day in Sweden is today (Friday)! Borque! Borque! Borque!

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Anniversaries and Balloon Rides!
Greetings from Stockholm! The sun set at about 10 pm tonight, and the sky will remain this dusky color until 3:30 a.m. when it rises again. I'm here for pure vacation (visiting family and doing touristy things) and not poetry or teaching. To be honest, however, I went searching for Stockholm's spoken word venue this afternoon, Kafe 44 (it is only open on Sundays during the summer) and probably would have checked out any reading I saw going on there. In other news, yesterday, I took my first balloon ride! For about 70 minutes, 30 people floated in a rectangular wooden basket 1,500 feet over Stockholm, slowly drifting northwest. If that seems like a lot of people, it is; the pilot said it's the biggest hot-air balloon in the world (although some say I'm a pretty close second). I took over 200 pictures, some of which I'll post here when I return to New York. Tonight at dinner I remembered that today, July 5th, is the 15th anniversary of my father's death. To celebrate, I think I'll buy a six-pack of beer and take it all the way back to his hospital room two nights before he died. I'll wake him up and say, "Can you help me with this?" My mom told me years later that he'd asked her to sneak him a beer and she wished she had. Now I can tell her not to worry. That I took care of it. Skål!

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Planning to be in bed at a certain time
Is that a telltale sign of middle age or what? After several late nights in a row with considerable social drinking, I was looking forward to being in bed by 11 last night as well as to not having drunk. I was only 15 minutes late, and I drifted off to sleep smiling. We had another Team Urbana rehearsal last night, and I must say that it is one of my favorite things in the world: sitting around with friends, rehearsing poems and critiquing performances. The temporary mylar mirror that I have affixed to one wall of my office has been invaluable for coordinating group movements during our multi-voiced pieces, but we actually had some of our best run-throughs facing the other way. Today is overcast and muggy in New York City, and I am waiting for the washer/dryer repair person and finishing a poem called "Gone the Way of Whom" about my brother's bizarre desire to increase the use of the subjunctive in English. Welcome to my world.

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Just got #58 in my quest for 1,000 teachers!
In June of 2000 I set a goal for myself: to direct 1,000 people into the field of teaching through poetry, persuasion, perseverance, or passion. One of the very first was my friend Noel Jones, a teammate on the NYC-Urbana slam team of 2000. Although she only taught part time, she said her decision to even consider teaching at all was due in large part to the passion and insight of my poetry about teaching. She suggested I start counting. So I did. But it was a journalist who told me that it wouldn’t be a story unless I gave myself a deadline. That’s when I gave myself until 2006, which seemed like a long way off until recently! I used to only count people who wrote to me and said, “I am now a teacher, and you are part of the reason I became one,” but as my deadline looms I’ve been easing my standards a little. Now I’ll count you as one of my 1,000 if you’re still in college but you’ve decided to switch majors to become a teacher. I haven’t started counting high school students yet, but maybe I’ll have to soon! Many veteran teachers have suggested I keep another list of teachers who I have inspired NOT TO QUIT teaching (at least for another year), and I may well start such a list. But today, I am simply happy to report that I have made some progress in my quest for 1,000 new teachers: Greg M. is a bonafide Nuyorican (a Puerto Rican born in New York) and the first in his family to attend and graduate from college! Greg writes, "I love you man! It has been a year since I started to listen and admire poetry, slam, and spoken word. You are my favorite, by far. The first time I heard 'Like Lilly Like Wilson"' and I heard you state the last two lines of the poem with conviction, I said, 'Hey, that's what I want to do.'" With any luck, I’ll be reporting more good news soon! Maybe you’re one of my 1,000 and you never told me? If that’s the case, send me an email that says “You Can Count Me!” and briefly (but eloquently, because I may quote you here) explain how my work might have figured into your decision to pursue a career in education. If you’re a journalist, and this story appeals to you, I invite you to tell it. How can I be of service?

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Mirror in a tube
Because it's so important to be able to see yourselves as you perform (especially group pieces), and because my office is Team Urbana HQ this summer, I went to Canal Street this afternoon and bought two yards of refelective mylar for a total of $4. Stretched across one of the cabinets in the office (actually, that's a Murphy bed that folds down) it creates a temporary mirror. In the reflection, you can just make out my desk on the other side of the room. Chad brought the mics and stands so we can simulate the whole experience.

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Irregardless of your intelligence
Last night I watched an episode of "The Sopranos" using HBO On Demand. It's the one where an insensitive remark about the weight problem of one guy's wife turns into a personal vendetta that almost gets two people capped. At one point, Tony suggests that the FBI might be involved, and Christopher says, "You know, create a little dysentery in the ranks." I cracked up, in part, because I almost missed the malapropism (there, but for the grace of God, spoke I). So now I'm writing a related poem about how an extensive knowledge of grammar and punctuation (as well as vocabulary) can make it impossible for some people to pay attention to the content of speech or writing. For instance, it's hard for me to listen to what anyone has to say if they use the NON word "irregardless," regardless of how otherwise intelligent or articulate they appear to be. Can you help me? What are examples of mistakes like this that are impossible for some of us to ignore?

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Look out Hip Hop, here comes Taylor Mali!
A guy named Handle just sent me this link. It seems he wrote some music and beats and put them behind "How to Write a Political Poem," sometimes pausing or otherwise varying the tempo of the poem so that it is all in time. Sounds pretty cool. Give it a listen if you can: http://zed.cbc.ca/go?POS=1&CONTENT_ID=242899&c=contentPage&FILTER_KEY=241550

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My last year slamming . . . unless
I have a meeting on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art at 6:00 in the morning today (in just a few hours!) and I can't sleep. Chalk it up to the three-hour nap I took this afternoon. Or the Team Urbana rehearsal I'm hosting at my house; we took all of May off, and now we are starting to rehearse in earnest. Anyway, I'm a bit wired, and I thought I would address an issue that's come up for me a lot recently: Why am I still slamming? This summer at the National Poetry Slam in Albuquerque, a new documentary about poetry slam will be screened. It's called "Slam Planet," and it follows two teams in their journey to nationals last year, Team Austin and Team Urbana. I wasn't on the Urbana team that year (I tried but wasn't quite good enough), but I still figure into the film because a) I was president of Poetry Slam Inc. that year, b) I got caught between Celena Glenn (team captain) and Bob Holman (owner of the Bowery Poetry Club) in a big drama-filled mix-up, c) I hosted both teams and the whole film crew at my place in Connecticut over the Fourth of July, and d) I've been around a LONG TIME, and I know more than any 40-year-old ought to know about this obscure art form practiced routinely by poets 20 years younger than me! Seriously, "Slam Nation" was 10 years ago, and I'm the only one from that movie who still actively slams. Everyone else has either moved on to other things like Daniel Ferri and the entire New York team (or even Marc Smith, for that matter!) or they've "graduated" to more of an organizer role like Danny Solis, director of this year's National Poetry Slam, Bob Holman, and Wammo, who will be a big part of the National Poetry Slam for the next two years. So what am I doing? Well, I'm waiting to go out swinging. That's what. So right here and now I'd like to make it known that unless my team should happen to win the whole shebang again, I will be retiring from slam after this year. If we do happen to win, I'll do what I always do: take a year off, then try to make the team again the following year (at age 42!). But with the exception of 1999, my team has won the National Poetry Slam every year I have competed since 1996. If the streak continues, you better believe I will! If not, well, it will be nice to write something longer than three minutes and ten seconds.

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When does SUMMER begin for you?
I know. Technically, it doesn't begin until the Summer Solstice (Latin for "standing sun"), June 21st, the longest day of the year in the northern hemisphere, the day the sun stops creeping northward and begins creeping back southward again. But that never made sense to me because you can't tell whether it is summer by the position of the sun alone; you need to know what direction it's heading as well. I mean, the week before the solstice and the week after the solstice, isn't the sun in roughly the same place? Why should one week be spring and the next week summer? Wouldn't it make more sense to pick a line of latitude, or a date between the Vernal Equinox and the Summer Solstice (around mid May) and a similar date between Summer Solstice and the Autmnal Equinox (around mid September) and say, "Here. This line. Whenever the sun goes above it, it's summertime. When it goes back down below it, it's fall." That would make more sense to me. I always used to tell my students, "Summer starts on Memorial Day. Never mind that you're still in school. Start thinking of this as your summer! The weather is nice (finally), and yes, there are things you gotta do. But there are always things you gotta do. Do them outside if possible." That said, it's a beautiful day in upstate New York, and I'm going out for a bike ride on the rail trail. Welcome to summer 2005 in the northern hemisphere!

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New York premiere of "Lunar Sea"
Last night I saw the latest creation of Moses Pendleton (founder of the Momix Dance Company). The company is at The Joyce for the month of May. The first two weeks there they performed "Opus Cactus," a vaguely southwestern-themed collection of short performances, but the last two weeks were reserved for "Lunar Sea." It's a full length performance under blacklight. In most of the sections, dancers wear costumes that are part black velvet (and therefore invisible) and part white, which glows under the blacklight. Two dancers entwined create a whole body sometimes. Other times one partner is entirely invisible while the other floats over the stage. There was a piece with umbrellas draped in white sheets (think of the Mikado as performed by jellyfish), another with dayglow spandex pantyhose, and many others with weird props that look cool under surreal lighting. It was an entertaining evening of dance, but a bit too monothematic for my taste. The best part about it was that it was SOLD OUT. My friend Winsome bought the last three tickets (and practically got into a fight over them). Fighting over dance tickets? That's good for dance.

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Numbers 55, 56, and 57 in my quest for 1000!
In June of 2000 I set a goal for myself: to direct 1,000 people into the field of teaching through poetry, persuasion, perseverance, or passion. One of the very first was my friend Noel Jones, a teammate on the NYC-Urbana slam team of 2000. Although she only taught part time, she said her decision to even consider teaching at all was due in large part to the passion and insight of my poetry about teaching. She suggested I start counting. So I did. But it was a journalist who told me that it wouldn’t be a story unless I gave myself a deadline. That’s when I gave myself until 2006, which seemed like a long way off until recently! I used to only count people who wrote to me and said, “I am now a teacher, and you are part of the reason I became one,” but as my deadline looms I’ve been easing my standards a little. Now I’ll count you as one of my 1,000 if you’re still in college but you’ve decided to switch majors to become a teacher. I haven’t started counting high school students yet, but maybe I’ll have to soon! Many veteran teachers have suggested I keep another list of teachers who I have inspired NOT TO QUIT teaching (at least for another year), and I may well start such a list. But today, I am simply happy to report that I have made some progress in my quest for 1,000 new teachers: Marisa (#55) was introduced to my work by an English professor who showed "SlamNation" in class. Apparently the professor thinks I'm a complete ass (she's not alone, certainly), but Marisa sought out more of my work and has changed her major and decided to become a teacher! Her professor thinks she could do better and is disappointed with her career choice. Jamie (#56 even though I erroneously said #55 in my email to you) saw me perform live and felt validated in his choice to teach. And lastly, Jillian (#57) writes this morning, "I received my master's degree in Arts and Teaching on Saturday, my official NH state certification, and have my job lined up in the fall. So, there's #57 for you. Signed, sealed, delivered. Count me on the list." With any luck, I’ll be reporting more good news soon! Maybe you’re one of my 1,000 and you never told me? If that’s the case, send me an email that says “You Can Count Me!” and briefly (but eloquently, because I may quote you here) explain how my work might have figured into your decision to pursue a career in education. If you’re a journalist, and this story appeals to you, I invite you to tell it. How can I be of service?

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The Nerd Slam was Thursday night!
To see Shappy in shorts, an Urbana "Atari" teeshirt, and a Darth Vader helmet dancing around to live music provided by the Jollyship Whizbang . . . well, it was surreal. Today was also the opening day of "Revenge of the Sith" (not a coincidence) so there were lots of Star Wars references. Eight poets competed for nerdy prizes such as Pez dispensers, PowerPuff Girl stuff, a pocket SCRABBLE set, and (grand prize) a life-sized cut out of Xena, Warrior Princess! With notable performances by Reid Harris Cooper (covering Aha's "Take On Me" with the band), former Nerd Champion Ed Garcia performing "Night Nerdz," and cute Floridian newcomer Kendra doing a trilogy about "Nerds, Homos, and Fat Girls," the slam was won by none other than Leticia, whose amazing rendition of "I'm Afraid of Statues Because They Just Might Come Alive" brought down the house. Earlier in the day, I ran into a former student, Sarah S., whom I taught in 8th grade 10 years ago. Although she looks pretty much the same to me, the math suggests she is 23 now, a fresh graduate from Parsons School of Design! What's she going to do with her life? She's a children's clothing designer, and her work has already had a big window display at Saks! I told her she could call me Taylor now, but she gave me that look that says, "Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Mali!" It's true. When people who you've always called by their last name ask you to call them by their first name it's creepy. Especially if their name is Bartholomew or Muriel or something. Yichhh! The Urbana Slam Team went down to Jersey on Wednesday night to compete at Chad's slam at Brookdale College where he is a teacher. We had a great time, despite losing both rounds to the Central Jersey Team. Big Mike is hysterical ("True Love farts, and it smells bad! So unless your love plays the booty trumpet, don't talk to me about love!"). No more slams at Urbana until July 14th. Say listen, speaking of future dates, next Wednesday, May 25th, is my next performance at the old folks' home on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, and I haven't found any poets to come with me. If you're free between 2:30 and 4:30 pm, and you're open to performing three or four light-hearted poems to an adoring crowd of old ladies with no payment other than my taking you out to lunch afterwards, write to me taylor@taylormali.com.

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Thursday I head to Albuquerque
I have never been, but I have always wanted to go. I find the Southwest beautiful in a way very foreign to my Northeast sensibilities. And I'm thrilled to be able to get a little advance look at Albuquerque before the National Poetry Slam descends upon the city in August. I'll be performing at Amy Biehl High School on Friday morning (details are available on my calendar) and featuring at the Albuquerque Blue Dragon Slam on Friday night. If you're interested in joining my ABQ mailing list, send an email to AlbuquerqueMailingList-subscribe@yahoogroups.com, and the process should begin automatically. I may be a bit arduous to join, but I have made it very easy to UNJOIN. The same is true with all my mailing lists. I promised myself that I would never have just ONE BIG mailing list involving people from different parts of the country. It is irksome to get last-minute invitations to readings that are merely announced as being at "The Java Joint on Elm Street." Hello!? What state are you talking about? Anyway, I'm ranting. I need a relaxing trip to the land of sun.

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Thursday is the Finals at NYC-Urbana!
So this is it. The final slam of the season. This is the one where we decide who will be on Urbana's slam team going to Albuquerque in August to compete at the National Poetry Slam. The last two years I have either not qualified for finals or been in finals but not scored well enough to be in the top four (although rules allow up to five members, we have chosen to send only four). Shappy has done an amazing job planning the whole night. We've got a showcase of five or six top-notch performers who will start the evening off with one poem, song, or sketch each. We've got celebrity judges from such communities as Bust Magazine, Marvel Comics, and Def Poetry Jam. And of course we've got the top eight poets of the season set to battle it out. Admission is $10 (my $6-list is full), but it's going to be mad packed anyway so if you want to come, get there by 6:30 PM at the latest. Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz will be helping Shappy host so it will seem like old times. Do I have my strategy set? Not completely. Nervous!

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My feature at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe last night
It was wonderful. What a great venue that place is! Arguably the most famous slam venue in the world (more so than The Green Mill in Chicago, the birthplace of slam? Yes, arguably more famous. Don't you love the weakening word "arguably"? My cousin is one of the most eristic people I know, so I feel I can label virtually any statement as being "arguable" because I'm sure he'd take up whatever side I needed him to). Features at the Nuyo are pretty short so I just chose five poems to perform. Four of the five are poems I'm considering for next week's finals at Urbana. I know better than to reveal here what poems I'm considering (Shappy once played me brilliantly because I had announced to the world what my strategy would be), but I'm getting excited! It's going to be a great slam. Just listen to this lineup: Post Midnight, he won the second semifinal and he's been on several teams before, including one of Urbana's; Akua, an Arizona transplant by way of Ghana, she was Urbana's rep at the World Championships in February and winner of the second semifinal; Ove, winner of the last semifinal, he's got that sexy Dominican thing going on; Chad Anderson, the slam journeyman won the MegaQuasiSemifinals last Thursday in commanding fashion and is a real strong contender; Jeanann, her poems, which have always been quiet and beautiful, have now gotten longer (which is good! More like two minutes now) and she has gained confidence; Scott, a frenetic performer, really physical; and Julian, this kid is 18, but he performs like he was born on the stage! And then there's me: 40-year-old FORMER president of P.S.i. (I just got dethroned last week!) slamming to try to make it onto his eighth slam team! I still have room on my $6 list, so if you'd like to save $4, send me an email. Now back to Saturday afternoon domestication.

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Just got #51 & #52!
Last night here at Syracuse, the organizer, Stratton, said I could count him among my 1,000. Specifically, he said "When I read the poem "What Teachers Make", I knew then that I HAD to teach. Later on, when I showed the poem to my mom, who hated the idea of me being a teacher (and not a lawyer, doctor, architect...). After reading it, she accepted and acknowledged my intention to teach. I think that there is nothing more admirable than a personal goal to inspire people to teach. I only hope that one day I can do the same, via my students." But then, when I showed up to the reading, a young woman named Shelby came up and handed me an envelope, telling me it was proof that she was one of the teachers I'd inspired. Part of the letter said, "Four years ago, I found myself a typical college freshman at Roger Williams University in Briston, Rhode Island with only a vague notion of the path I wanted to take in life. Midway through my second semester, I decided to cement my decision to become a high school science teacher and went to my advisor’s office to share the news with him. The dissapointment on his face quickly diminished the smile on mine. He began to explain the 'poor and unwise' decision I was making. He was hoping that I would join the chemistry department at the school, and tried to convince me that going into teaching was a 'waste of a good brain,' and that there are other people 'adequate of doing those jobs.' I thanked him for his time, left his office and went back to my empty dorm room to cry myself to sleep. I didn’t want to make a horrible life decision, but I also did not want to deny myself something that I knew I really wanted to do. I remained pretty somber for a week after that, considering my options and trying to decide what to do. One afternoon I went to my mailbox and found a letter addressed from home. In it was a copy of, 'What Teachers Make' and a small note that read, 'We’re proud of you. Love, Mom and Dad.' I am now two weeks away from graduation at SUNY with a B.S. in Environmental Biology. This summer I will be moving to Houston to begin my training with Teach For America. Not only will I get to teach high school science, but I will also be working to eliminate the educational inequity that exists for students of low-income communities. I can not wait to meet my class." Congratulations to Stratton and Shelby, two of my latest heros!

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Just got #50 in my quest for 1,000 new teachers!
I set this goal for myself in June of 2000: to direct 1,000 people into the field of teaching through poetry, persuasion, perseverance, or passion. One of the very first was Noel Jones, a team mate on the NYC-Urbana slam team of 2000. Although she only taught part time, she said her decision to even consider teaching at all was due in large part to the passion and insight of my poetry about teaching. She suggested I start counting. And I'm happy to report that last night's reading at ECC got me another convert. Here's what he said in an email last night: "My name is Kenny C, and I just got home from your lesson at ECC South Campus in Orchard Park on 04/25/05. I simply want to say that you have strengthened my resolve to become a true teacher. But not a school teacher in the normal sense. It is my sincere wish that I can become a Buddhist monk. I came tonight for extra credit, but what I received was true principal. In my eyes you have already far surpassed your goal of 1000 teachers. If you can teach just one person to really purely teach, then they in turn will teach others. So you obviously already have infinite notches on your belt. It is up to me now, no one can do it for me. I must be vigorous at my discipline and end my own greed, hatred, and stupidity, before I can help others do the same." Thank you Kenny. I have a little bit of work to do in those areas as well. Who doesn't?

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April is the cruelest month
I have four more gigs in National Poetry Month: tomorrow and Tuesday in upstate New York, Miami on Wednesday, then Friday at the Nuyorican Poets' Cafe here in New York. And although I sometimes complain about the hectic schedule--one teacher said he'd never heard anyone say the phrase "the utter craziness of National Poetry Month!"-- the fact that the United States even HAS a poetry month pleases me like a backrub. I have managed to stay healthy, even with all the flying: that pleases me, too. Think of Staceyann Chin. Half-Jamaican, half-Chinese, 99% lesbian, and entirely kickass. After Black History Month, Asian-American History Month, Women's History Month, Gay Pride, and National Poetry Month, it amazes me that she can still speak! Anyway, I've been home alone in the new place now for the past two days. Unpacking boxes of office supplies and chapbooks of friends, binders of receipts, cds, software, a 100-year-old painted portrait of my great-great-grandfather John Taylor Johnston (where do I put that?), I look up every now and then and think to myself, "One of these days I'll actually be able to sit down and write a poem in here!" I'm going to use these next four gigs to prep for the NYC-Urbana poetry slam finals, which are not this Thursday but next, May 5th. Last two years in a row I haven't made it on the team; that's how strong the competition is. And this year is no different. I always try to bring one new poem to the mix every year, but I'd like to try to make it two this year. What do all you slammers out there do? When finals rolls around, how much new stuff do you use?

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Back to Kansas tomorrow morning!
These are my two twin nephews; Winston is on the left and James is on the right. They go to The Fenn School, where I read last week before heading to Kansas. Now I'm packing for Kansas once again. In other news, I have moved into my new place! It is fabulous, and my new office is so inspiring that I just want to stay in here and write all day and night.

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Greetings from Manhattan, Kansas!
They actually call this place "The Little Apple." I went to graduate school here at Kansas State University in the early 90s, and I used to tell people that I was "actually born and raised in Manhattan" when they asked where I was from. ("Ruhlly? Ya don' sound lack it at'all!"). Just finished a gig at the student union and had a great time. Got to see lots of my old professors. Several high school teachers from surrounding areas came as well, some even bringing forensics students with them. Felt great to be back in Kansas! The director of the Student Union said he had a note for me. "I've been carrying it around since January," he said. "Friends of yours." He handed me a piece of paper folded up with nothing but my name on it. At first, I couldn't imagine who it was from. But then I noticed that the little paper bundle was almost impossible to open. No tape, glue, or staples had been used to seal it; it was just that it was folded in such an ingenious way that . . . Rives! The paper engineer who plays with paper instead of putting out product! Sure enough, Rives, Bassey, and Poetri had come through in January. I remembered trading text messages with Bassey when I was in Poland. It had all come full circle. What did the message say? "Don't mess up." Not exactly those words, but you get the idea.

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The future of the art of slam . . .
. . . rests in the ability of poets to inspire and entertain people like Russ & Joanne. My gig last night at Lenoir Rhine College in Hickory, NC, was good. Not particularly well attended, but noteworthy in that two couples who do not know each other (except through commenting back and forth on this website) both drove from Asheville (about an hour each way) to come see me perform. One couple was Steve and Jamie; they come to every show I do within a 300 mile radius of Asheville (regardless of whether I tell them the correct starting time for the gig, which, incidentally, I have never done). They're not stalkers or anything, they're teachers; there's a big difference. But the other couple I met for the first time last night. Russ is in his mid 50s and has "basically retired." Joanne is younger and was insulted when I suggested she could have grandchildren (even though her daughter is 26: Hello!?). They were at the i.W.P.S. last year in Greenville. They were at N.P.S. in Chicago in 2003. "We used to plan our vacations around food," Russ explained to me, "but now we plan them around poetry slams." They are definitely going to Albuquerque this year for N.P.S.! How cute are they? Very. Joanne reads all kinds of blogs and LiveJournals and is extremely knowledgeable about the whole spoken word scene. They're both big fans of Rives's. When they lived in L.A., they used to go to Da Poetry Lounge (they must have stuck out like . . . well, like middle-aged white people, actually) hoping that he would perform. He'd saunter in, help out Shihan by keeping score (probably in his head in Latin, backwards) and then wander out without reading anything! "Why doesn't he have a book or a CD or something?" Joanne asked. Why indeed.

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A new promotional picture I'm using


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Learning how to post pictures to this blog
Just completed my day gig here at the Rosen School of Hospitality Management, a separate campus of UCF. What a very clean school! Right now, I'm in an enclosed Veranda overlooking a golf course. It is 78 degrees. Just so you know. The picture below (if I ever manage to load it) was taken by David Huang years ago. It was the only one I could find at the moment. But I got a new digital camera for my birthday, so if I can figure out I'll have a new thing to keep me from actually writing poems (hooray).

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Sunshine, Drunk Friends, and Baby Showers
National Poetry Month is finally here! April, the cruelest month, started for me here in Florida. After my UNF-Jacksonville gig on Thursday, I drove down here to Orlando for a gig last night at UCF. It was a challenging one; they set me up in the campus pub (after turning off one of the Final Four basketball games much to the chagrin of the bartender). I could still hear the video games in the next room, so I couldn't do quieter poems like "Tony Steinberg." There was a group of sorority girls who were so irked that they couldn't gossip anymore they paid and left before I was finished with my first poem. There was a family who had driven an hour and a half just to hear me. Corie, a frequent commenter on this journal, had driven two and a half hours to finally hear me live (and said I was worth it!). But the prize went to a slam buddy of mine who had taken a four-hour bus ride. Unfortunately, she got a little too happy over the course of my performance, falling off her stool three times, breaking a wine glass, leaving her ID at the bar, getting lost on the way to the parking lot, and ultimately getting stopped by the campus police (too drunk to walk?). Finally got her back to her hotel in one piece! Today I went to my cousin's baby shower down in Melbourne. I rarely get to see her so that was great. At the end of the shower, they asked me to perform the poem that I did at their wedding, and I think a couple of folks will come to my show in Melbourne on Tuesday!

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"A white man. Between the ages of 25 and 40."
I wrote that line about five years ago to describe the kind of guys I see at the auditions I go. It's part of "Voice of America V/O," and it's totally true. I used to be able to tell in the lobby of a building--even before a guy pressed the button for his desired floor and confirmed that he was going to the same casting agency that I was--who was a voiceover guy. They all look like . . . well, they look like me. But tonight, as I read that line to the crowd here at University of North Florida, I realized that I was "lying." Technically, I am no longer "between the ages of 25 and 40." Oh well. I always said that poetry's debt to Truth was greater than its debt to Fact (there's a debate we could get into here again if anyone is willing). So begins National Poetry Month for me: a week in Florida. Could be much worse (like a month in Warsaw in January!).

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Best of NYC-Urbana 2004: New High Score!
Every year for the past four years, the poetry slam series that I help to curate every Thursday night here in New York City puts out a fundraising cd to help finance the team's journey to the National Poetry Slam that year. Ostensibly a collection of the best performances to have happened at the venue in the last year, it is usually more a celebration of poetry and the quirky ambiance of Urbana. In the old days, I used to make recordings on minidisc and then cajole the magnanimous John Powers into transfering and editing the whole thing for me (once, before I figured out how important it was to have about 10 seconds of applause after each poem, he put together four or five different "ovation default tracks" and we ended every poem on the cd with one of them!). But the Bowery Poetry Club is the nation's only venue devoted entirely to spoken word, and Bob Holman insists on recording every performance at the club digitally. So these days, when I leave the club I am simply handed a cd by the sound guy which I rip into my computer, edit using PEAK LE, and then add to a playlist in iTunes. Much easier. And I'm happy to report that we're in the final stages of producing Best of Urbana 2004, which involves doublechecking spellings of names and poems and obtaining final permissions. The track list reads like a who's who of spoken word and poetry: Billy Collins, Patricia Smith, Saul Williams, Corrina Bain, Sou MacMillan, Rives, Queen Sheba, Mike McGee, Jeffrey McDaniel, and many more. Cross your fingers that all the legal hurdles will be overcome and that we'll get this thing into production soon!

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Tomorrow I will eat again.
Today, Good Friday, Purim, day of the full moon, was the last day of my cleanse. What started on a Saturday at The Russian Baths four weeks ago by cutting out caffeine, alcohol, sugar, wheat, and dairy, and ended with a seven-day juice fast, will officially be over tonight at midnight. Tomorrow, at the Baths, I'll weigh myself on the same scale that said I was 213 when this all started. I may well be 188. We'll see. Tonight, I went to a full moon gathering at The Chapel of Sacred Mirrors, the exhibition space of the visionary artist Alex Grey. It was a wonderful place to be. Have a Good Friday, everyone.

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Last day of the Spoken Wordshop 101 at U.N.I.S.
Starting on Monday and ending today, I've been teaching an after-school performance poetry class at the United Nations International School, which is only a few blocks from my home. It's been great to be back in the classroom, this time teaching the importance of word choice, original language, mic technique, and other tips for presenting your poetry to an audience. The size of the class grew from about 20 on Monday to about 30 yesterday. Today we focus mostly on performance, and I wouldn't be surprised if the audience swelled to its biggest yet. It's all the brain child of an enterprising and energetic junior named Sarah. This is the same Sarah who has been coming around Urbana for the last year. She won a slam last quarter and then won the semifinal! Unfortunately, the National Poetry Slam Championships, in Albuquerque in August, are an 18+ event this year (bylaws of P.S.i. dictate that NPS is, by default, a 21+ event UNLESS the host city can accomodate 18+. It never goes any lower than that). So we've asked Sarah to be one of the sac goats at our finals on May 5th, and she seems to be okay with that. In cleansing news, day 6 of my fasting phase finds me at 191 this morning (that's 24 lbs. in 25 days of cleansing). I'm surviving on fresh squeezed fuit and vegetable juices, supplements, herbal tea, and water. For the most part it's been okay, but last night I went to meet an old college friend, Hugh Davies, whose family owns and operates a fabulous champage vinyard in the Napa Valley called Schramsberg. He is in town and was meeting with his New York marketer at The Gramercy Tavern, one of my neighborhoods best restaurants and one of the restaurants that stocks his wines. They each had three glasses in front of them when I got there, a Schramsberg sparkling Blanc do Blanc, a new German Reisling, and some Italian chablis that I forget the name of. To listen to them talk about wine, and to watch as the sommelier bent over backwards to impress (she must have been aware of who he was): well, it was like watching the research footage from "Sideways." At one point Hugh launched into an explanation of varietals that involved adumbrating the outline of France in the air between us: "When people think of French wine they think of Bordeaux first and that's up here, mostly cabs and merlot. But you've got Burgundy tucked under right here, and they're always pinot noir, of course. But then you've got Chardonnay down here, and Cognac over there." It was fascinating, and between the wine and the black sea bass cooked to perfection, I lasted about an hour. Had one herbal tea, and left. Lastly, at Urbana tomorrow night the feature is Kimberly Brazwell. She was one of the top 10 poets at the 2004 NPS and is pretty all around amazing. Come if you can.

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Phase IV begins: No solid food for a week.
This is the final phase of my spring cleanse. I'm taking supplements four times a day now and eating no meals. I have fresh squeezed vegetable juice three times a day and start the day with fresh squeezed grapefruit juice. Yoga this morning was a little trippy, but in general I feel great, and I've lost over 20 pounds since the cleanse began. Just this afternoon I had a hankering for a glass of red wine, but the not drinking part hasn't really been a problem—even on Thursday nights at Urbana where I've been known to have a pint or two too many. This will probably become a yearly routine with me: my March cleanse, always scheduled to end before my birthday. In poetry news, looks like I'll be in Copenhagen in November!

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#48 in my quest for 1,000 teachers
I set this goal for myself in June of 2000: to direct 1,000 people into the field of teaching through poetry, persuasion, perseverance, or passion. One of the very first was Noel Jones, a team mate on the NYC-Urbana slam team of 2000. Although she only taught part time, she said her decision to even consider teaching at all was due in large part to the passion and insight of my poetry about teaching. She suggested I start counting. Many people write and tell me I'm partly responsible for their switching majors. A few people have changed careers because of my work. God bless Kyle in Indiana who writes, "I waited until you came back around to IUS to tell you in person that seeing you perform in our "ski lodge," ranting about a girl named Like Lily Like Wilson, inspired me to become a teacher. So here is my official admission that you corrupted me into becoming a polluter of minds. Thank you for making teaching something beautiful, something meaningful, something real, and even though Teach for America rejected my sorry butt, I'm determined to change the world one eight-grader at a time (or seventh grader, or ninth, it doesn't much matter). I have you to blame, Taylor, and for that, I thank you." In other news, I am back from Switzerland and in the final days of Phase III of my cleanse. This morning I was 197 lbs which is the least since 2000. I've lost 17 lbs since the cleanse began! Yes, I eat less (next week will be a fasting week), but the real difference comes from not having had caffeine, alcohol, refined sugar, wheat, or dairy for the last three weeks. It was tough in Zurich where the beer and chocolate flow, but now that I'm home, I'm determined to see this through to my 40th birthday on March 28th. Got the Limerick Slam happening at Urbana tomorrow night at the Bowery Poetry Club here in New York. If you've got 30 limericks (they don't ALL have to be original) come on down and compete against the likes of Shappy, Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz, Edward Garcia, Amanda Nazario, and me! The feature is Hilary Thomas from Austin.

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Greetings from Zurich!
Perhaps it is another indication that I am almost 40 that I can now do a seven-and-a-half-hour flight standing on my head. When I was younger, perhaps because such a length of time represented a greater percentage of my overall life experience, a flight to Switzerland would have been very hard for me to bear. I would fidget. I would get bored. I couldn’t sleep. But now? It just seems shorter. (Which reminds me of a study I heard of: they took people of various ages and asked them each to count to 60, trying as best they could to approximate the time it takes for one minute to pass. They discovered that the younger you are the faster you count! Older people count slower and consequently feel as though minutes, hours, and years are passing faster than they actually are). Anyway, landed in Zurich at 7:30 in the morning (1:30 a.m EST) and was taken straight to the site of the conference, a school called the Inter-Community School in Zumikon, where I was able to shower, shave, and dress in the school locker room. Took my herbal supplements. Had a great workshop later that afternoon, and then a performance to end the day. Fell dead asleep after a bath and slept for 11 hours (with a break from 2:00 to 3:00 a.m. to read “The Time Traveler’s Wife,” which is really wonderful!). Can I just say how much I love performing for, talking to, presenting in front of, and generally hanging out with teachers? These are my people. Now it is Saturday afternoon. If I can access the hotel’s wireless network, I’ll be able to post this before going to watch Manchester United play South Hampton at 6 tonight. My good friend Steven and his “Italian lady friend,” as he calls Elana, are making steamed fish and fresh vegetables just for me. That will be my one meal of the day, and I can’t wait. Go Man U!

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Cleansing in Kentucky
At least I think I'm in Kentucky. I flew into Louisville (pronounced locally as "LUAH-vull") and I.U.S. is in a part of Indiana called Kentuckiana because of its proximity to Kentucky. But where my hotel is? Which state I'm actually in right now? No idea. Check that; just looked at the address on the phone: I'm in Indiana. The gig tonight was great! I've been to this school three times, and they always turn out for me, ask good questions, and listen hard. I got a request for "Silver-Lined Heart," which I've never memorized but which I had in my binder luckily. Then I got a request for "Advice to a Friend on Maintaining Long-Distance Relationships," which has NEVER been requested before and which I don't carry a copy of. Meanwhile I'm really hungry because I've had nothing but fresh fruit and steamed vegetables all day. Tomorrow is the second-to-last day of Phase II of my cleanse. It's also a day that will start here in Indiana, move through New York, and then end 35,000 feet above the Atlantic on my way to Switzerland. Then Saturday, with Phase III, I go down to one meal a day and supplements three times a day. I haven't weighed myself in a few days, but I think I must be around 200 (that's 13 pounds in two weeks!). I feel great. Hungry. But great.

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Best fan email I've received in a week.
Got this yesterday from a kid at my alma mater (where I read last week): "Taylor: You spoke at my school (I was in Mr. Hill's class, sitting next to you absent mindedly). I was inspired by one poem in particular. The following may seem arrogant, but I speak the truth. "Playing Scrabble with Eddie" really got to me. I have an IQ of 172 last time I checked, eligible to put me in the highest tier of MENSA, but I have something called Executive Function Disorder which essentially means my ability to perform executive function (i.e. focusing for long amounts of time, prioritizing work, the ability to focus on one thing in particular and also the ability to multitask, and various other time-management issues) is severely inhibited, and from this, I have a B-/C+ average. I know I should be getting "A"s, but I just can't. Whenever I am confident in a piece of work, which, to tell the truth, doesn't happen very often, as I am a resolute pessimist, it turns out that I didn't structure the answer at all, wrote down the answer to a different question, or just ignored the question I had to answer. I have thought many times about leaving this school, but once every few years, comes somebody like you, who makes me proud to go here. I nearly teared when you performed "Playing Scrabble with Eddie," as I am nearly tearing now, because you are not only telling his story, you are telling mine, and the stories of all the other children like me that exist. I would say that you have no idea how frustrating it is to be at the bottom half of the class while being smarter than many of the teachers, but when you recited that poem, you proved that you did. You proved me wrong, and for that I thank you. I thank you for that; for understanding.

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My first National Poetry Slam ever!
Henry Sampson, the treasurer of P.S.i., was our host this weekend in Chicago. Henry is an old friend of Marc Smith's and has video tapes from back in the day. Late on Saturday night we watched Patricia Smith battling with Lisa Buscani in 1991. And then Henry put in the tape from 1994 and we watched, among other things, a 29-year-old me perform in his first NPS. I was both mortified and proud! The poem went 6:01, by far the longest poem in the slam, but I didn't get penalized by the judges at all (back then penalties were optional and were assessed by the judges). Biggest difference between now and then? My hair. Big hair. Beeeeeeg hair!

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Greetings from the EC Retreat!
I'm here in Chicago with the other members of the Executive Council of Poetry Slam Inc., the non-profit organization that oversees all things slam in North America. Everyone is breaking for lunch, but I've entered PHASE II of my cleanse, which means I eat two meals a day and take supplements two times a day. Last night, I slept in a frigid third-floor room with Steve Marsh (Executive Director). He snored intermittently all night long (I probably did, too), but in the morning he complained that in his dreams I kept quizzing him in word games. Sounds like me.

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I'd like to thank you both for coming!
Just finished my gig here at USA (University of Southern Alabama). They said they expected somewhere between 50 and a 100 people. There were 16. Sixteen students could be bothered to come out of their rooms to hear a poet on a Wednesday night. Actually, they weren't even all students. There was one teacher who offered extra credit to anyone in his class if they came; since three of his students came, he was responsible for increasing my audience by 30%! Then there was the Student Activities Coordinator (she had to be there) and the three or four students she had working the event. Also a sound guy. I tell you, when it comes down to it, I managed to attract one or two students through sheer star power. Talk about name recognition! And this schools has very well-attended poetry slams. Apparently 200 people have shown up to a slam. But "Go see Taylor Mali? No, thanks. I'd rather download porn" (or whatever it is college kids do these days). It's okay, though. I'm not disheartened. Even when I'm up there reciting "What Teachers Make" for the zillionth time in front of such a small clutch of listeners that I feel like a heavy metal band playing a bar mitzvah, I still love what I do, and it pays the mortgage and buys food, ink, and paper. I am nothing if not a high priest in the Church of Gratitude. My flight back to New York tomorrow leaves at 6:15 in the morning. I'm rushing back to teach a class and do an assembly at my old school, Collegiate! We were "The Dutchmen" because the school was founded by the Dutch in 1628 when they ruled New York. Our mascot was a little smiling chubby white guy (seriously could have been one of my ancestors. Quit laughing, yo!) with a peg leg and a cane. Can you imagine a more uninspiring mascot? "Go Dutchman! (But not too fast. Wouldn't want you to get hurt or anything)."

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Born AFTER 1900. I promise.
For all you UIL competitors out there (what does UIL stand for, by the way?) who are competing with poems of mine and need proof that I was born after 1900, please let this journal entry serve as all the proof you require. My birthday is coming up soon (March 28th), and although it's a big one—I'm going to be 40, which I hear is the new 30—it's nowhere near being my 106th! Sincerely, Taylor Mali. In other news, Mike McGee is the feature at Urbana this Thursday night, I'll be in Alabama tomorrow night (anyone from Alabama?), and I'm down to 210 pounds (lost three!) on day four of my cleanse!

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Day 3 of my cleansing regimen
The only thing that hurts is my abs. Yesterday in yoga class, we did these crunches that the teacher called "scoops." Knowing that Spc. Tristan Bowman might be reading this from Iraq (check out his comment in the previous entry) makes me loathe to bitch and moan. Today I am grateful for everything. Meeting this afternoon with Rives, the author of "Kite" (which I perform as part of my regular set) and "Deaf Poetry Jam," who is in town taping for the fifth season of Def Poetry Jam. Any messages for him? Check out his new website at shopliftwindchimes.com if you don't know who I'm talking about.

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Today I began a 28-day cleanse
It's time for some spring cleaning folks, and today is the first day of a four-phase cleanse that will end just before my 40th birthday (on March 28th). I'm cutting five things out of my diet: refined sugar, wheat, dairy, caffeine, and alcohol. That leaves me with vegetables, fruit, some grains, and the occasional piece of fish when I'm jonesing for protein. To complement this abstemious prandial undertaking, I am taking a regime of supplements called Ejuva. Phase 1 involves 3 meals a day and one session of sups. Phase 2 will have me eating meals and taking supplements twice a day (this is when I'll be in Switzerland for a conference! That'll be tough!). Phase 3 and 4 continue the pattern so that by the end of the cleanse I will not be eating at all, just taking the supplements four times a day. All kinds of disgusting stuff gets loosened up in your intestines and starts to come out! This first day was fine. Of course I was peckish all day and had a nagging caffeine headache, but I figure that's par for the course. I started the day at the Russian Baths on 10th Street, where I weighed myself: 213 pounds. By Friday, March 25th, I'm guessing I'll be about 190. Who knows, by the time my birthday rolls around three days later, I MIGHT be ready for champagne.

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Off to Charlotte in the morning
This is my first gig on American soil since returning from Europe earlier this month, and I am looking forward to it. Funny, I've been doing this for five years, and the novelty has still not worn off. Perhaps because I am living my dream. Let's hope the novelty of dreams is too thick. On the other hand, my life in New York is getting wonderfully busy and fulfilling as well, and leaving means saying goodbye, even if only for a night. Had a meeting with my agents today and we all but canceled plans to return to Europe in May. No firm offers yet, and I could use the time here. Plus, I love New York in the Spring. The Urbana slam finals are May 5th, and I hope this year to make the team again. I've tried the last two years and missed by a hair each time.

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A plea in the midst of everything. Please help.
So much intersting stuff to talk about—accusations of racism against P.S.i. leveled by a poet full of red bull; plagiarism in competition; Tristan Bowman (a fan who sometimes posts here) is now in Iraq and wants to know why I think The Da Vinci Code is not well written; and I just got Skyped by a woman from Albania (I told her I'm going to see The Gates this afternoon, but I don't think she knows who Christo is)—but I come to you today with a plea to help an important film get made. Good friends of mine have been working for the last 18 months on a new slam documentary called "Slam Planet: War of the Words." If you saw and loved "SlamNation," you'll love "Slam Planet." It follows two teams to the National Poetry Slam Championship last year. You watch as the teams get formed, rehearse, and interact. There's a scene up at my house in Connecticut where the two teams and many members of the community are all hanging out for the weekend. Then they go off to St. Louis and nothing goes according to plan. I've only seen bits and pieces, but it will be a very important addition to the history of slam. A few weeks ago, A FIRE IN THEIR EDITING SUITE DESTROYED MOST OF THEIR EQUIPMENT. The losses were devastating and they're looking at a long, difficult road to rebuild their operation and pay specialists to recover media on their hard drives and tapes which suffered extensive heat, smoke, and water damage. They have set up a special PayPal account where donations can be made, and I humbly ask all of you who might be able to afford something to make a donation. Every dollar makes a difference. If you belong to PayPal, the email address for their account is slamplanetfund@yahoo.com. If you're new to PayPal.com, it's very easy to join. Of course, checks are also accepted; the address is Slam Planet Support Fund, c/o Slam Channel, 500 San Marcos, Suite 102, Austin, TX 78702. Thanks everyone.

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What is a politcal poem?
What makes a poem a political one? There's a bit of drama brewing in the spoken word community over comments and allegations made by someone who fancies himself a true rebel, a poet of the streets. Rather than wade into the muck here, I'd like to start a different thread and ask for people to post definitions of what a political poem is.

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Happy Valentine's Day
I had my assistant meet me at Techline, the company that is building the desk, cabinets, and shelving for my new office, to help me pick out hardware for the handles and a pattern for the fabric bulletin board; I figure, what's the point of having an assistant with exquisite taste if you don't use him for stylistic advice? Soon, I will be ensconced in my dream office! Last night, I featured at a small series in Dedham, MA, called "Live Ham." About 50 people showed up, including a high school senior who drove all the way from New Hampshire who sat in the audience and mouthed the words to almost every poem I recited. Drove back to New York afterwards and arrived at 2:00 am this morning. The finals of iWPS in Worcester was wonderful, with less self-righteous indignation than usual. Buddy Wakefield ended up winning for the second year in a row and rightfully so; no one blends such brilliant writing with such flawless performance! I am thrilled he'll be doing an hour this Thursday at the Bowery Poetry Club before Urbana begins. Come one down if you can. Lastly, I just ordered a bunch of Urbana teeshirts with an Atari-like swoosh (totally illegal, I'm sure) as a logo. Shappy will love them. I only have about a dozen. Anyone want one?

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Update from Worcester
Greetings from Day 1 of the Individual Poetry Slam Championships in Worcester, Massachusetts. Akua, Urbana's representative at this competition, performed well, earning the 2 in the four-minute round and the 1 in the one-minute round. That ties her for first place with maybe two or three other poets who got similar ranks. All the other New Yorkers were coincidentally put into the same bout along with a handful of amazing poets; that bout got called the Group of Death! Attendance by the general public was low due (let's hope) by the snowstorm that blew into town two hours before the slam began. More tomorrow.

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A bar with dogs and a wireless network
I used to come here when my dog was still relatively sane. It's the Black Bear Lodge on 22nd & Third Avenue. Dogs are allowed, and they have a free wireless network! Bery convenient since cable is out on my street until the morning. Today I sold my apartment. There were many happy years there, but I'm perfectly happy to see it go. I'm off to Worcester tomorrow morning for the Individual World Poetry Slam. Will post results if I can.

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Benefit show tonight in Lincoln, Mass
My flight home two nights ago was made effortless with the help of Dan Brown whose "Da Vinci Code" is as poorly written as it is brilliantly plotted; my sister-in-law calls it literary crack. Urbana last night was wonderful, and a 16-year-old girl won the slam! This is the same young poet who has arranged for me to teach three afternoon performance poetry workshops at her school: very bright, very determined, very aplombic (what is the adjective form?). Two executives from Sesame Street were there scoping out talent for a remake of a show I probably shouldn't mention by name. Just drove up here to my sister's house in Lincoln. Tonight I have a special benefit performance for the Web Center, a great resource for kids with learning disabilities. My sister and the other members of her committee have been planning this night for months! I'm still jetlagged so I gotta sleep before the dinner tonight.

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USA beats Canada in the finals!
Great night last night at The Zodiac in Oxford. Hammer & Tongue promoted the heck out of the show and almoost 400 people showed up to watch the Four Nations Slam. In the first bout, Team USA (me, Danny Solis, Beau Sia, and Queen Sheba) defeated Team Ireland. They had some great poetry, but slam doesn't have much of a history in Eire and it took them a few rounds to get into the rhythm. In the next bout, Team UK was keeping pace with Canada until one of their poets took a seven-point time penalty! So it was set to be an all North American final. It was close, but thanks to a killer performance by Danny and a last-minute duet of Sheba and Beau, we pulled it out. I'm off to Heathrow right now. I'll be at Urbana Thursday night for the first time since January 6th! I'm homesick.

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Greetings from Brussels!
Just had a dinner party with seven Malis from the Belgian side of the family, and I feel like walking around saying, "This is my homeland!" I particularly like talking with Emile, my first cousin twice removed (my grandfather's cousin). Since my own grandfather died in 1987 and my own parents less than 10 years after, it has been a while since I have looked into old Mali eyes. I uploaded a picture of the two of us (taken a few hours ago) to my photo gallery. It's in the section called "Taylor and . . ." Tell me if you see a family resemblance. Off to Oxford tomorrow for the big Four Nations Slam on Tuesday night! Me and Danny Solis competing together (and for once, not AGAINST each other!).

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A cold morning at the Russian Market
In the 1950s, the communists held some sort of Youth Olympics or something here in Warsaw and built a quick cement soccer stadium (maybe 20,000 capacity). It was still in use in 1993 when Michael Jackson played a concert there. But now all the wooden seats have been ripped out and burned. Covered in snow, it's an empty void, beautiful nothing. The stadium is deserted except for the ring road that runs around the top of it where a bustling Russian Market thrives every day of the year (including today, which was bitterly cold). Weathered old women in fur coats selling cheap bottles of booze; Ukrainian bruisers whispering as you pass, "Musico? Deeveedee?"; squirrely, red-faced, Soviet medal dealers; all around the stadium and spilling down the outside they come to sell knock-off products, cheap imitations, old Nazi stuff, Gillette Mach 3 cartridges, and thousands of painted wooden eggs, their faces cold round and deep, much like the stadium itself. I bought some Russian caviar. Off to Brussels now.

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Don't corral kindergarteners with noise
This is what I just learned. I just read to about 40 kindergarteners in a little amphitheater that they have in the lower school. I was introduced and thought I would have a little fun right at the beginning. "Hello," I said. "Hello," they parroted back like good little children. "Good afternoon," I said, and they said it back. "How are you?" I asked, and they asked it right back, enjoying the game. "Stop copying me!" I said in mock protest. "Stop copying me!" they echoed with glee. We did that a few more times ("I really mean it!"), and then I thought I would move on. Not so. "My first poem for you—" I began. "My first poem for you," they continued. "We're not doing that anymore," I said, knowing I was already in over my head. "We're not doing that anymore," they all said in perfect unison like little children of the corn. "I think I may need some help," I said. "I think I may need some help," they said while teachers stepped in to explain that the poet in the black suit didn't mean to start something he didn't know how to finish. In the end, it was okay; I did some Dr. Seuss and Robert Frost. Then, taking Rives suggestion, I started freestyling a poem in couplets that DON'T rhyme ("Woke up this morning and got out of bed. Found I had a spider stuck to my FACE."). One more class here in less than an hour (thank God they're only 6th graders!), and then it's all play time until I fly to Brussels tomorrow to hang with the Belgian side of the Mali family. The slam last night at the Kulture Palace was great even if only one poem out of maybe 30 was in English. Because I couldn't understand, I was able to pay attention to performance styles. No matter what language you speak, nervousness manifests itself in the same ways: shaking hands amplified by paper, gratuitous microphone clutching, unconscious swaying from side to side. My clothes reek of smoke.

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Just taught poetry to the First Grade
And I lasted about 15 minutes! I was invited to give a little presentation by one of the teachers who saw me yesterday afternoon (I did a performance for all the faculty here and then later three poems to begin the board of trustees meeting). "Have you ever taught first grade?" she asked. Once I subbed for a first grade teacher in Maine, and it was a disaster! I have too much of a middle school mind to be able to relate to a group of six-year-olds. I scare them or I confuse them. Anyway, I said I'd stay for as long as I could. I performed "How Falling in Love is Like Owning a Dog," and then we talked about Describing Words (commonly called adjectives). I said that one trick I use when describing white (like snow) is to think of other things that are white like . . . ? Anyone? "Hail?" Um. "Rain?" Wait. "Snowmen?" Stay away from the winter stuff. "White paint?" No. "White crayons?" What I mean is—"White markers?" It was wonderfully poetic! I suppose what I was asking them to do demanded too much abstraction ("Think of something that is NOT snow.") We had better luck with green. "As green as poison," said one kid. "As green as monsters," said another. Shoes, homework folders, and leaves were other popular choices. Anyone have any good poetry prompts for little kids?

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Curmodgeon in Training
While I work here at The American School of Warsaw, I am staying with a family. Both of the parents, Diane and Jeff, are teachers, and the kids are both in the high school at ASW. I stay in the attic, but before you start thinking Anne Frank, know that it's the biggest room in the house. There's a fireplace, a bathroom, and a computer (which came in handy when I heard that my rent check had been lost in the mail!). I suppose I am a decent guest, but I've developed a cold, and that's dulled my touristy spirit. Last night, Diane said, "So what's left on your list of things you're dying to do in Poland." I suddenly realized what a boring traveler I am when I am alone (and working). Fly me off to Cleverdonia and the first thing I want to do is find a cafe with a fast connection and email all my friends saying, "I'm in Cleverdonia!" I'm like one of those guys in the IBM commercials who flies all over the world but is fixated on I.T.. Been reading a lot of Szymborska in the last few days (when in Rome). Check out her poem "Torture" at this link http://www.violettanet.it/poesiealtro_autori/SZYMBORSKA_1.htm. When I taught history, I always used to make my students articulate the ways in which the human experience has NOT changed. A man being eaten by a sabre-toothed tiger 30,000 years ago made the same sounds as a man being eaten by a tiger in a zoo today. Don't you think?

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A touching moment at the ghetto wall
The conference is over. Now I begin the second leg of my stay in Warsaw, teaching writing workshops at The American School all week. But yesterday I woke up in the hotel and had to find my way to the home of a family where I'd be staying. Luckily, I was babysat by Linda, who was the director of the conference, and her family. In the afternoon, we all walked around the old part of the city of Warsaw. Linda's daughter is six, and she listed all the words she could spell; she would spell GUM, and I would ask her to spell MUG. I half expected her to look at me and say, "Dyslexic Boy loves palindromes, doesn't he?" Linda's son is eight, and he's huge, like his Dad. He already kinda lumbers and moseys like a middle schooler (and he's only in second grade!). In the early evening, we visited the only remaining section of the wall that was built around the "Jewish Ghetto" by the Nazis. Since the confines of the ghetto kept getting smaller and smaller, and the walls kept getting knocked down and rebuilt, I suppose no one really thought to preserve larger sections of the wall for posterity. Who would want to. But there it was, down an alleyway, next to a plaque placing it in context. I stood there with the eight-year-old and tried to say something poetic about freedom. Then I took off my glove and put it on the wall. He looked up and asked me one question that was the most poetic thing I'd heard all day. "Can you feel the pain?" he asked. I'm still trying to answer it.

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New picture in my photo gallery
Greetings from Warsaw! All is going well here. Presented my first workshop this morning, "Spoken Word 101: An Introduction to Performance Poetry." It was good. Only 50 minutes, so I just gave a few definitions, ran through my "Baker's Dozen Secrets of Slam," and then showed examples from the 2002 DVD put out by P.S.i. ("The World's Greatest Poetry Slam"). But it's now after lunch, and instead of preparing for my next workshop, "Great Poetry Assignments for Middle Schoolers," I have been figuring out how to upload new pictures to my Photo Gallery. And I cracked it! First new picture is a portrait by Peter Dressel that Cristin says is pornographic. Not really; she just commented that it might not be the best photo to use on promotional material that touts me as an educator ("Hi, I'm Taylor Mali. I can inspire your children, even NAKED, as I am in this photo!"). Please check it out; it's the fourth tab up from the bottom on the left. Once there, if you click on the thumbnail, you get a larger version. I did end up using one of these photos on my new promo card, but the graphic designer (Erik Daniel from Ann Arbor) managed to airbrush in a teeshirt!

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Snow in Poland
From my vantage point on the 32nd floor of the Marriott, Warsaw is a beautiful mix of big four-story buildings, all dusted white with the recent snowfall. If the sun can burn through the coulds, the sight will be marvellous. Went to a party of teachers last night and confirmed my theory that international school teachers don't want to go home again. It is not uncommon for a 30-year vet to have spent six years in five different schools all over the world. I ended up talking with Steven, a native of Manchester who played 3rd Division professional soccer in the 50s (I actually thought he said the 30s, but now that I do the math, I don't think that could have been right). We went looking for an Irish pub called Cork where they might have the Man. U. vs. Exeter rematch playing but ended up in the hotel sports bar watching Real Madrid. Oh well. I hear Man. U. pulled it out. Conference really starts tomorrow.

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Off to Warsaw in the morning!
Just finished my two days at the International School of Prague. Came home today and lay down on my spartan hotel bed (no pillow? What's up with that?) for a few minutes and woke up two hours later. Teaching takes it out of you! My gig last night at the Tulip Cafe was good. Maybe 30 or 40 people showed up, and I read for about 40 minutes before an open mic. It was the first time in years that I have performed for nothing but love. Got paid: nothing. Products sold: nothing. Experience: priceless. I haven't really figured out how to handle merchandise on these long European trips. I bring as much as I can carry, sweat my way through customs, then run out half way through my tour. I need a European distributor.

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Great Deals and Deales that Grate!
Greetings from the Globe Bookstore in Prague! Walked all over the old city today like an American tourist. I know it's a cliche to say so, but Prague is beautiful! I think it's my favorite city in Europe already. And almost every pub has Pilsner Urquell on tap! I'm at the International School of Prague in the morning, but since I never received a completed contract from them, I've had a heck of a time figuring out where they actually are and how I get there from my hotel. Taxis in Prague are notoriously inconsistent when it comes to honesty in fares (call is having a problem with "fareness"). We'll see. I think I got ripped off by the English cabbie this morning who took me to Victoria: it ended up costing £23, which is almost as much as the airline ticket! But then, checking in for the flight, I realized a huge mistake I had made in planning for this trip. I thought I was so smart because I had weighed both of my bags to make sure they were both exactly 50 pounds. Then I was extra smart because I took my carry-on bag up to Oxford when I read there last week and left it for when I go on Feb 1. What I failed to check was the baggage limitations of EasyJet. It's only 20 kilos per person! That's only 44 pounds! I ended up having to cough up almost 300% of the ticket in weight penalties. Suddenly, bringing three suits (all of them black, by the way) felt incredibly stupid. But I'm a poet, I protested to myself. Yes, a foppish myopic poet.

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A day of shopping in London
Woke up this morning at 11 well rested. I missed the breakfast in the restaurant, but a day without eggs & sausages will be good for me. Incidentally, in the interests of internationalism, I tried something called "black pudding," a hockey puck of dried blood. Never again. My week at the American School of London ended yesterday afternoon with a wine and cheese reception in the library with all of the faculty. I would talk with a group of teachers and then say that it was time for me to remingle; I would ask for a recommendation and be pointed in a new direction. One group turned out to be the "drama people," another "the scientists." A rather loud group off to the side which I never visited appeared to be playing quarters. "That's the business office," I was told. So I've had a swim and I'm off to shop. Tomorrow it's off to Prague.

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A hip hop poet is born!
Last night, at my performance for the Parents' Association here at the American School of London, I was asked (as I have been at almost every performance at which I have entertained questions for the last year) whether or not I can "rap." And for the first time ever, instead of saying "Not really," I said "Absolutely!" Then I started freestyling! I figured the only way to get over the fear of making a fool of myself in rhyme was to just go ahead and do it. So there, in front of 400 people, I started rhyming, and it wasn't so bad. This morning has gone well, too. Today is the day that we pair up my seventh graders with little buddies from the second and third grade. We met in the Lower School Library and the big kids worked with the little kids and wrote poems. Everyone was so prepared and so ready to work that I found myself standing in the middle of the library alone, doing nothing, and doing it well. Then we all got back together and shared what we'd written. It was fantastic! This afternoon, I will invite my seventh graders to comment on this very entry and tell you who they worked with and what they liked most about the activity.

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Highlights from an Exercise in Original Thinking
Day 2 at ASL has started well! Collected a worksheet I handed out yesaterday. Here are some snippets. According to various seventh graders, a badly written sentence is as eloquent as a sharp marble; a stpid person has the mental capacity of a leaking grapfruit, a children's book without words or pictures, or empty doll house; a poorly dressed classmate has the fashion sense of an Amish moose. Tonight, I take a bus up to Oxford, perform, them come back. Back to school tomorrow morning.

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Greetings from the American School in London!
Just finished my first day at this wonderful school tucked away in St. John's Wood. I'm here for the week working with two sections of the seventh grade on writing. Being back in the classroom reminded me how much I love teaching. The offputting thing is the number of adults who are sitting in on my classes as well. Had about six other teachers in my second class this morning. I'm always afraid one of them will raise a hand and ask, "When was it, exactly, that you began to think you knew what you were doing?" They've given me a desk in the "pod," the central hub that leads to four classrooms. I have great access to the school's wireless network and hope to get lots of updating done on my website. Gotta get started!

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"Celebrity Weirdness Explained" on VH-1 tonight!
The online program guide says the featured artists this week are Pink, Britney Spears, and R. Kelly, so this might not be the episope that I'm on (remember: they interview me as an expert on the poetic use of bird imagery in an effort to explain Mike Tyson's fascination with carrier pigeons!). Apologies in advance if anyone learns more than they wanted to know about R. Kelly and doesn't get to see me freestyle about flying. Incidentally, the interview was shot at an Upper West Side bar called Jakes Dilemma. The back room looks very much like a poet's study, especially with the massive stuffed Raven that they put just behind my right shoulder!

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Happy New Year!
I raise a glass of Veuve Clicquot to the world! Poetry for everyone.

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Schooled in vocabulary by a 22-year-old!
Last night, I met a very percipient and gregarious 22-year-old Bennington College graduate named Dan at a Christmas Eve party. Despite the fact that he did not like Billy Collins, I liked him a lot. At one point in the conversation, though, he used the word "immure"; he thought Billy Collins had immured himself with the clerisy. Now, what I should have said was, "I've never heard that word before. What does it mean?" But did I say that? No! Mr. Big Shot Vocabulary 581-Scrabble-Scoring, New York Teacher/Poet with a M.A. in English Lit said, "That's not a word." I thought he must have meant "inured." Well, I learned a new word and something about myself. To immure is to wall in, lock up or confine as in a jail. Doa!

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I'm on a new VH-1 show in January
Thanks to a lead provided to me by San Antonio poetry buddy (and PR man) Phil West, I’m interviewed on a new show called “Celebrity Weirdness Explained,” the first episode of which will air on VH-1 on Tuesday Jan. 4 at 11/10c PM (the website says nothing of mountain or pacific. Is that typical?). I’m not one of the celebrities, obviously; I am one of the experts called in to explain another celebrity’s weirdness. In my case, I am an expert on poetry and I am being interviewed to try to make sense of Mike Tyson’s obsession with pigeons. They asked me how important bird imagery was to poets, and I said VERY. I then launched into a discussion of the ancient art of reading auspices, telling the future from the flight patterns and behavior of birds (from which we get the word “auspicious”). I quote a couple of famous poems that mention birds, talk about freedom, independence, and omniscience. Then, at the end, as if I didn’t sound foolish enough, the interviewer asked me to FREESTYLE a poem about birds! I’m sure that’s all they’ll use, and I look forward to the episode with a mixture of trepidation and prurience. More info on “Celebrity Weirdness Explained” can be found at this link: http://www.vh1.com/shows/dyn/celebrity_weirdness_explained/series.jhtml

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"I can't give it away on Seventh Avenue"
I've got a bunch of stuff that I'm having trouble giving away. A lot of it is furniture, and that's always hard. I'm going to offer a couple dressers to anyone in my building for FREE just because I need to get rid of them. But I don't know what I'll do if no one wants them. And then there's me and the school down the street. I've always believed in acting locally, and so I somehow got it in my head that I should volunteer my poetic services to the high school down the street called The School of the Future. Before I left for France last month, I emailed all the Humanities teachers I could find. I heard nothing. So I dropped by with a goodie bag of cds, books, dvds, pencils, and promotional literature. The note said basically, "I do this for a living but you won't have to pay!" Again, I've heard nothing. Is it just too odd an offer? It's like when I was trying to find elderly people to play Scrabble with (because they're usually really good and have lots of free time). No one quite knew what to make of me.

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From a fan in the Middle East
Dear Mr. Mali: Hello, my name is Specialist Tristan B., and I am currently fighting in the war overseas. I just wanted to say that I am a huge fan of your writing. I am in the National Guard, and before I was deployed I was studying to become a history teacher. I have felt a personal connection with your poetry since the first time I saw you on Def Poetry Jam. One could say my life is unfolding history as we speak, but who knew how quickly things would change when my 17-year-old self joined the National Guard. I am 22 now, and life was beginning to settle down when this happened, but alas it is my job and I will complete my mission to the fullest. I am currently in Kuwait helping to make sure all the equipment gets up to Iraq, where I will be heading up shortly myself. I wake up every morning to the Persian Gulf coast; when you forget about the war, it is almost beautiful. It reminds me of being back home and visiting Cape Cod. I am from a mid sized town in Mass called Bridgewater (we have a college there, maybe u could make an appearance when I get back?) I just wanted to tell you these things because I feel that no words or thoughts should ever go unspoken. Thank you for your words and your wisdom. I hope to hear from you again in the future.

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A plethora of orders and a dearth of product
For the last week, I have been waiting for books to arrive from my sister so that I can fulfill a bunch of orders that have come in recently. I only keep a box or two here in New York; the rest are in a storage barn up at Kickbox that my Mom called the Barage (because it's also a garage). Well, the books arrived yesterday, and I am sending out all of the backlogged orders when the post office opens in a few minutes. Oh, and incidentally, plethora is my alltime favorite word and dearth is a close second or third. I often like to ask people what their five current favorite words are. What are yours?

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Just got #45 in my quest for 1,000 new teachers!
I set a goal for myself in June of 2000: to direct 1,000 people into the field of teaching through poetry, persuasion, perseverance, or passion. One of the very first was Noel Jones, a team mate on the NYC-Urbana slam team of 2000. Although she only taught part time, she said her decision to even consider teaching at all was due in large part to the passion and insight of my poetry about teaching. She suggested I start counting. Many people write and tell me I'm partly responsible for their switching majors. A few people have changed careers because of my work. The latest, #45, is Lennon S., who writes, "Although I have only encountered you and your work through Slamnation and your website, I'd just like to thank you for being an inspiration . . . and for solidifying my decision to be a teacher. To make half the difference in children's lives that I know you have would be an honor to me." I am blushing now. I've got a little over a year and 955 teachers to go. I need to kick this campaign to the next level. What should I do?

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A poem of mine appears in a new book
It's called the New Teacher Book, and it's filled with great essays and resources for those just starting out in this noble profession. If you have a new teacher on your Christmas list, check out www.rethinkingschools.org/newteacher for more info.

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Last day in Paris
The bells atop the nearby church just struck noon, but the overcast skies still look like they did yesterday as I wandered around the outside of the Rodin Museum. It's another late November day in Paris. I fly back tonight, arriving at JFK 17 days after I left. I still have a partly full box of unsold cds, but I will leave those here as I did in May and pick them up when I swing through Paris again. The ECIS conference was a huge success despite the fact that I could have sold three times as many cds as I brought; thought I was being paid on top of my travel expenses; and discovered on the last day of the conference that I had been wearing the jacket of one suit with the pants of another (a forgiveable blunder for one who owns so many black suits, except that the jacket was dark navy. I looked like a bruise!). I will be up no doubt at five tomorrow, which is good because I have a massive list of things to do. Hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving; the day goes by unremarked in France, as you can imagine. But I was thankful anyway.

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Back in Paris, finally
My friend who lives here and with whom I often stay has oft sung the praises of the Orly Bus, which she says takes 20 minutes and drops you off a few blocks from her house. So imagine how happy I was to discover that my flight back from Nice today would land at Orly (slightly odd since I left from De Gaulle). Well . . . one piece of lost luggage, a police action, and a bomb scare later, I am finally here, three hours after I should have been. Still no second bag (with toothbrush and clean underwear), but this potatoe/leek soup and beaujolais nouveau are hitting the spot. I'm featuring at the Paris Slam tomorrow night (Monday), and I'll be at The Red Wheelbarrow (Paris's best known Anglophone bookstore) on Wednesday afternoon. Come by if you're in town. I might smell awfully bad, but c'est la vie!

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Just had a great reading here at ECIS!
I read one poem this morning as part of the opening ceremony, and it went well. Perhaps in large measure because of that poem, my afternoon session (just me doing a selection of teaching-inspired poems) was very full. Close to 200 people by my estimate (maybe more?) listened for 45 minutes exactly. I sold out of cds and books in about 5 minutes and wished I'd brought more (of course, that would have meant more fees for heavy luggage!). If you are checking my website after having heard me read today, I thank you for the honor of the opportunity. Reading poetry for teachers and learners is what I do; it's my job. I'll be back in Europe in January (London, Prague, Warsaw, Brussels, Oxford) but those dates are almost entirely full up (see my calendar). I'd love to come back in the spring and/or fall so let's get in touch.

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This conference is huge!
Just registered for the ECIS conference over at The Acropolis, the biggest international convention center I've ever seen. There is so much going on at this conference that it makes me feel a little small; I'm just a poet who writes about learning and teaching. Ho hum. Anyway, things don't really get started until tomorrow, so I will now go walk in the low sun of Nice. What's the weather like? It's nice!

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The reading last night at Brogan's Bar
Was fun. Started at 9 pm as advertised. With only 15 people or so in the audience, I couldn't understand how it could possibly go on until midnight, but then I realized the format of the open mic: anyone can get up and read as MANY POEMS AS THEY WANT! The first guy to read was an old Irish man of about 70. One of his poems was a litany of ALL THE KINGS AND QUEENS OF ENGLAND. "And then there was Edward who died in blood, while the men of England toiled in mud." That sort of thing. One guy attempted to beatbox (I think I found someone who is not as good a beatboxer as I) and reprimanded the audience--all 14 of us--for not singing along with him. "It's loike oi'm bahk in fooken Germenny, for fooksake," he observed, curiously. I read five or six poems at the end and sold seven cds for seven euro each (which was good 'cause I was running low on cash). I told one of the poets that I was headed to Nice today, and she (a flight attendant) told me to sit on the left side of the plane. What a view! Finally landed in Nice--the morning began in Dublin at 4:30) while the sun was setting, and I got a great view of the whole town. Now I'm chilling in the hotel, waiting for the European Conference of International Schools to begin. There are teachers everywhere! Friday is the opening ceremonies. I'll be reading "What Teachers Make" to all 3,000 conferees. That will be the biggest collection of teachers I've ever faced. Thank goodness I just sent my suit to be pressed.

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How do you NOT act like an American?
My reading at Brogan's Bar here in Dublin is in a few hours. While I was packing for this trip last week, I made a point of removing my American flag pin from the label of my black suit (not the new one; it's not ready yet). In this day and age, it just doesn't seem safe to announce to the world that you're an American. The first thing you should learn how to say in any language is, "I'm from Toronto." As I walk down the street, I try not to look American. I try not to act American. But all that means to me is NOT smiling broadly while punching people in the face. Any other tips?

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Greetings from Dublin!
Just had two pints of Guinness at the pub next door so forgive the mispellings. I'm in Dublin for the first time ever (practically a sin for a poet, I know). Just got a text message from Rives telling me to genuflect in front of 7 Eccles Street, which Google reminds me is a significant addresws in Joyce's "Ulysses." Gonna get a tour of Trinity College from and undergrad tomorrow (who also wants me to contribute to Icarus, the literary magazine). The real work of this vacation hasn't started yet, but it's been great to reflect on the recent tragedies in my life from the perspective of a foreign country. Slainte!

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Off to Dublin in a few hours
The flight here (to Paris) was incredibly easy, thanks to the little bottles of wine that I had fereted away in my "travel vest," a ridiculous item I bought for my trip to China, which I have not worn since (imagine a photographer's vest with lots of pockets). The melatonin also helped. Two days in Paris and I'm almost over my jetlag (water, that's the key. Lots and lots of water). Yesterday friends came over for lunch and brought fresh oysters. Cheeses, pates, an onion tart with a flaky pastry, and a well chosen bottle of wine. That was lunch. For dinner, Andy made rabbit, which Madelaine ate, despite my insistence that the rabbit was probably very cute during it's life. It's morning now, almost 10, so people on the East Coast are fast asleep, and die hard partiers on the West Coast may just be going to bed. And that's what's so cool about my cell phone. It cuts through space AND it cuts through time. In two hours I leave for de Gaulle to fly to Dublin. I've got my first gig there on Tuesday night. Then it's off to Nice for the ECIS conference. Wish I knew exactly what I was going to say.

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Off to Paris at 9:40 PM tonight!
Car comes to pick me up in a little bit. Why is the LAST minute so productive? I got so much done today! Finally bought a new spiffy black suit. I already have two, but they're nothing special (although one is three-piece, a look I'm trying to bring back!). Great for getting covered in chalk dust. This new one I got at Bloomies today has a fabulous texture! Would Queer Eye have anything to say to me? Yes, probably (like, "Are you sure you're straight?!" Metrosexuals of the world, exfoliate!). I am absolutely 42R so the jacket needed nothing. Pants just needed hemming so I dropped them off at the tailor and they'll be here when I return on November 28th. Email is the best way to reach me over there although my cell phone does work there (how cool is that?). Walking down my block, I noticed an old man lighting a cigar. He crumpled up some paper and just threw it in the street. Ten years ago I would have yelled at him, picked it up, told him he dropped it, thrown it back at him, etc.. But in this day and age, you never know what kind of gun homicidal litterbugs like to carry. Does littering in the middle of Manhattan make much of a difference in the grand scheme. Anyone know what I'm talking about? Someone go to Urbana tonight and watch Christopher Lee's feature. Then leave me a comment here about how good he was.

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Off to Vermont in half an hour
Watching the last few minutes of The West Wing before I head off to the airport for a 10:30 PM flight to Burlington. I'm reading at a high school two hours south of Burlington tomorrow. I'll be back tomorrow night for one last night in NYC before I leave for France on Thursday night. Has anyone seen any episodes of "Manhunt"? I loved "Outback Jack," but this is just insipid. Oh, car is downstairs. Gotta go.

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First day with Craig, my new assistant
I found him on Craig's List. Perhaps the list is named after him. He is organized, punctual, and a yoga practitioner. Sound like anyone you know? He worked for two hours today and helped my understand Quickbooks even better than I already did. Almost ready for France, for which I leave next week!

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Don't rake leaves if you have O.C.D.
Just finished our fall Work Weekend at Kickbox. Raking up leaves, putting up storm windows, winterizing the house: these are the flagship events of the autumnal Work Weekend at Kickbox, an event that my mother started after my father died in 1990. There are so many things he used to do at this house that we never really understood, and after a few years, we began to realize what they were. Now my mom is gone (1995), but we still carry on the tradition. In the spring, just my siblings and I meet, but the fall weekend is fun because spouses, significant others, and children are invited. All told, there were 15 of us here for the weekend! We rented an industrial leaf blower for a day, and I must say that I’ve changed my attitude toward such machines. I used to think that they were quintessentially “American,” not really solving any problem, just moving it loudly to that it is someone else’s problem. But I had never realized how good they are at creating piles of leaves that you can then remove the old fashioned way. Everyone’s leaving today to get back to their homes in time to trick or treat.

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Lick-Wilmerding High School . . .
Can you think of a more unfortunate name for a high school. Rather I should ask, "Have you ever heard of a more unfortunate name for a high school (and if so, let's hear it)," because I can think of several names of fictitious high schools that would leave everyone wishing they went to a school with a cool name like Lick-Wilmerding (Aeneas Fecus High School comes to mind). Anyway, a high school chum of mine, Thelonius Johnson, whom I have not seen in over 20 years, wrote and asked if I'd ever be in San Francisco, and if so, would I consider coming and reading to his senior English students. I'm happy to report that I did so last Monday and enjoyed the experience and the school immensely. Theo has a little bit of gray coming in at the temples and beard, but it makes him look distinguished. One of Theo's students (named Rebecca synchronistically) had a really funny comment; I mentioned that Lilly Wilson was a "conflation" of several students I had had over the years. I then asked the class if anyone knew what that word meant. They all looked at Rebecca and said, "Well, walking dictionary?" She asked for another sentence to get the context, and I said, "To create Lilly Wilson, I CONFLATED several students." She raised an eyebrow coyly and said, "Did you now!" I turned red, and didn't know what to say (which doesn't happen often). Back home now, getting ready to go to the Spooktacular Costume Slam at Urbana tonight. Drop by The Bowery Poetry Club if you're in NYC and free (308 Bowery).

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Ever performed a poem you've never written down?
Everyone knows that the tools of the poet who writes for the page are different from the tools of the poet who writes for the stage. They share many tools in common (imagery, rhyme, metaphor), but the page poet has some tools that are unique to her toolbox (sight rhymes, concretization, and, most importantly, I would argue, line and stanza breaks) just as the stage poet has some tools that are unique to his (gesture, choreography, expression, movement, silence, musicality). Furthermore, any tool can be the impetus for a poem: I've written an entire poem to support a rhyming couplet, and another time a poem started out as an image. But is the same true for the stage poet? Can you start crafting a performance poem with an idea for a gesture? Have you ever thought to yourself, "I can do a great impression of Sean Connery. What poem could I use that in?" I think you can. Last week at Urbana, and again this morning at Ledyard High School (not far from New London), I performed a poem that I have yet to write down. It's about hand signals and their misinterpretation by a particularly dim-witted but charming (and entirely fictional) waitress named Candace. It went over well, although it involves a lot of humor, and that probably helps.

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Greetings from Winston-Salem!
All of Fourth Street is set up for Wi-Fi, so right now I'm sitting outside a coffee shop called Sin. I'm here in town for a NACA Conference (National Association of Campus Activities, this is the organization through which I book all my university poetry gigs), but I cam in last night to do a reading for the regular Winston-Salem slam crowd. They're a monthly slam, and yesterday wasn't their regular day, but Bob Moyer set up a special gig in an art gallery called Patina, and it was a great gig. Read for about 80 minutes, calling special guests up from the audience now and then to do a poem and break up the monotony of one voice (even if it is a tony voice.) Tonight, I only get 20 minutes; and they count them down on a digital clock at your feet. Very regimented. Wish I had one of those clocks for slam rehearsals. Poetry continues to be a crucial part of my recovery/reentry plan. Poetry and music. Speaking of which, went to the benefit concert for the ACLU on Monday at Avery Fisher. Phillip Glass, Paul Simon, Mos Def, Wyclef Jean, Sarah Jones, Robin Williams, Jessica Lange, Edie Brickell, Nanci Griffith, Lou Reed, and Patti Smith among others. How wonderful it was just to sit and listen. I am reminded of Walt Whitman who said, "Great poetry requires great audiences." I savor the nights I get to be a part of the great audience. I'll be up at Kickbox this weekend to catch the colors. Enjoy the last week of Octember/Septober everyone!

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I need to hire a new assistant
My first assistant was a deep voiced little guy named Nick Newell. He had dropped out of college in Georgia and moved to New York to become a performance poet. He used to hang out at Urbana occasionally. I told him if he really wanted to know what it was like to be a professional poet he should come work for me. He learned my accounting system quickly, helped me fulfill orders--allowing me to do other things, like, the dishes--and never once complained about all the a cappella I made him listen to. Once he even came with me to a gig in Massachusetts; we drove five hours there, did the gig, and drove five hours back in the same day. He was such a good assistant, that he decided he should go back to college. Darn. Then I had Pam for a while, and she was also good. But there was no taking her with me on overnight gigs. So I think I've realized that it's better when my assistant is male. Is that illegal? If I go and post a job opening on Craig's List, can I say "Young Man Preferred" without giving people the wrong idea? In other news, had my first performance yesterday since everything went down. Burlington County College in Pemberton, NJ. I was a little rusty, but it felt good to be working again.

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This is my favorite time of the year
The last two weeks of September and the first two weeks of October. I can't decide whether I should call it Octember or Septober. I am hiding out here at Kickbox, recouping, reevaluating, and breathing. So much to look forward to. So much to live for. Tell the people you love how much you love them. Please. For me. Do it today.

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Just got a new narration job!
As you may know, I have narrated five books for young adults (fifth book due out this Christmas) as well as done countless V/O spots for commercials. Well, I just landed my first major project for adults. Believe it or not, I am going to be narrating MOBY DICK for Talking Book Productions. It will be a week in the studio, reading 9 to 5. Hope I don't get a cold! Urbana's opening night was a huge success, full of cute poets in the open mic ("I've never done this before!"), funny poets, sad poets, off book and on. The season is under way!

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44 Teachers my quest for 1,000 by 2006!
Got another one yesterday! Randy R. (Atlanta) says, "Count me in! I find it ironic that days after watching you on Def Poetry and being inspired to get back in the classroom I was laid off from my position in a financial services firm. You made me remember what it is to be a teacher, and I immediately felt a resurgence of passion rush through my body. After taking a few days off to think, I enrolled in Secondary Ed. Certification at a local university and am on my way back to the classroom. Thanks for doing what you do and inspiring me to teach!" You are welcome, Randy! Thanks for teaching! You are officially number 44. I set this goal for myself in June of 2000: to direct 1,000 people into the field of teaching through poetry, persuasion, perseverance, or passion. One of the very first was Noel Jones, a team mate on the NYC-Urbana slam team of 2000. Although she only taught part time, she said her decision to even consider teaching at all was due in large part to the passion and insight of my poetry about teaching. She suggested I start counting. Many people write and tell me I'm partly responsible for their switching majors. A few people have changed careers because of my work. If you are one of them, write to me at taylor@taylormali.com.

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The Tricycle of Poetry: Spoken Word
I'm writing an article on using spoken word as a way to get students interested in poetry. I've always felt that in the house of American poetry, spoken word—and specifically poetry slams—were ground floor or basement game rooms with lava lamps, colored lights, and great music. Jon Spayde calls them "the party rooms" in his October 2004 article in "The Utne Reader" ("Who is Afraid of Poetry: American Are—But Help is on the Way"). In other words, they are easy to access, inviting, and fun to hang out in. But the goal, as Spayde goes on to write, is to get you to explore the rest of the house, the cloistered room of Dickinson and the abstruse attic of Ashbery. As a teacher, therefore, spoken word can be a useful gimmick to get kids hooked on poetry. But you need to disabuse yourself of the notion that spoken word "is ruining poetry!" This involves finding new criteria for evaluating spoken word, thinking up new questions to ask about spoken word, and finally placing spoken word in context with other poetry. This is where my article comes in. It's part of a conference I'll be attending in Warsaw next January, but the deadline for the journal is this Friday. So leave me some observations that I would be remiss if I were to leave out. And if you're in New York or nearby, don't forget that the Urbana Poetry Slam Series, the quirky, nerdy, super punctual, and winningest slam series in the history of the poetry slam is starting up again tomorrow (Thursday) at The Bowery Poetry Club. It's the first open slam of the season, and the feature is the amazing Kamal Symonette-Dixon.

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Guess which movie star I met?
It was in the Union Square dog run. She has a little white poodle mix named Grace. I'd seen her there once before, and we'd exchanged a few words (my ex-wife was with me that day, but she's terrified of celebrities so she stayed away. When we left, I said I could tell she didn't love me anymore because if she had, she would have come up to me while I was talking with the actress and said, "Are you Taylor Mali? I love your work!" She almost vomited at the inane suggestion). This time I overheard her telling someone on the phone, "I hate being famous." So I asked her about fame: Was there a time where you didn't realize you were famous. "I still don't," she said, which seemed somewhat odd given what she'd just told her friend. To be honest, she's not A-List; in fact, she's one of the queens of independent films. She loves doing plays in New York, but she worries about making mortgage payments just like everyone else. All in all, she was extremely down to earth, and I developed a little bit of a crush just talking to her (what do celebrities have that makes us act stupid?). Here's the last clue: Had I seen her in the park erroneously, I might have had to oppose you. Can you guess who it was?

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One room at a time
I started with the downstairs bathroom, then I spent the afternoon clearing off the kitchen counter (most of it went on the living room floor). Everything needs a place, and a lot of it's going in the trash. In a week, who knows, this place might be clean. How important is cleanliness to you?

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Greetings from Whole Latte Love!
I hate the name of this coffee shop! I cringe when I say it. But I can't complain. See, I'm sitting outside on a picnic bench. I devoured two breakfast sandwiches earlier. It's a beautiful day in Norfolk, Connecticut (I came up to Kickbox last night with Apollo on a whim), and someone's free wireless network is allowing me to check email and post this. We'll be going to the lake later to swim (although autumn is in the air). The Dark Future/Slam Bush Slam was a huge success, and it had everything to do with Slam Bush, and very little to do with The Dark Future. I dressed in my lightweight black suit (every suit I buy from now on will be black. I just feel most comfortable that way. Can one own too many black suits? Yes, I suppose one can. I think maybe six would be plenty, one for every day of the week and a really nice one for special occasions. When I was teaching, I had 13 suits, only 10 of which I wore to work: a different one each day for two weeks. Repeat.) and generally looked like a Republican, which seemed to go over well for the evening. One of the national organizers even asked me if I'd be interested in emceeing the FINAL Slam Bush Slam down in Miami! As luck (or score creep) would have it, the slam was won by the last competitor, Andrew Tyree, who had a stirring get-out-the-vote poem. Next week, the Urbana Poetry Slam Series begins in earnest with open slam 1.1, featuring the soon-to-be-LA-bound Kamal Symonette-Dixon, former Nuyorican Grand Slam Champion. Urbana generally does not book local features; usually, the feature is a nationally known slam poet who is passing through town or coming to NYC specifically to feature for us. And I am proud to report that the season is FULLY BOOKED ALREADY. I know of no other slam venue that can claim this (see below for full schedule). Okay, let's go test the water.

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Manchurian Candidate and the RNC
Went to see it last night at Broadway and 19th Street. When I emerged from the theater, riot police were headed to Union Square. For a moment I thought I was still watching the movie (in which a multinational corporation secretly controls the government). Tomorrow night, if you're still in NYC protesting the RNC and you'd like to listen to poems ABOUT Bush rather than listen to Bush himself, come to the Bowery Poetry Club at 7 pm for the Second Annual Dark Future Slam. If you've got a poem about the President, sign up between 6:30 and 7:00 PM for a chance to be in the Sam Bush Slam. For more info, go to www.slambush.net.

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One more teacher in my quest for 1,000 by 2006!
I set this goal for myself in June of 2000: to direct 1,000 people into the field of teaching through poetry, persuasion, perseverance, or passion. One of the very first was Noel Jones, a team mate on the NYC-Urbana slam team of 2000. Although she only taught part time, she said her decision to even consider teaching at all was due in large part to the passion and insight of my poetry about teaching. Many people write and tell me I'm partly responsible for their switching majors. A few people have changed careers because of my work. I have managed to save most of those emails so that I can have some kind of "proof" if it ever comes to that, but I am going to start announcing each convert here as well. I just got #43! Here's what she said: "I am writing to say you have made me want to become a teacher. I saw you perform at Angelo State University in San Angelo, Texas. I loved the cd and listen to it often. After much thought, research, and prayer I have decided to change my major to Early Childhood Education. I want you to know that your words made a difference to me, and played a big part in my decision making. I just want to make a difference. Thank you very much." Hope everyone is having as good a day as I am now.

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Urbana will be hosting a Slam Bush Slam on Thurs!
Have you heard about Slam Bush or been to their incredibly informative website (www.slambush.net)? It's the brainchild of two PACs: Slam Bush PAC and the League of Independent Voters PAC. All over the country—but ESPECIALLY in swing states—Slam Bush Slams are being held, and the urban vote is getting registered and educated. NYC-Urbana is proud to announce that next Thursday, September 2, on the last day of the Republican National Convention, the second annual Dark Future Slam wil ALSO be a Slam Bush Slam! This means that there's a lot more at stake, and a huge national publicity machine behind The Dark Future Slam. Go to the site. Watch the hilarious video of W debating the Hip Hop poet Wordsworth. See who they've got to judge the online competition (one name will raise an eyebrow if you were at NPS this month). So come to Urbana on Thursday. Slam Bush is looking for a national champion, someone whose voice could represent Hip Hop in a face-to-face debate against the President, either in the streets or behind the podium. Hip Hop can help send George Bush back to Texas where he belongs, and Urbana can help. And the feature is the legendary Vancouver beatbox poet C. R. Avery! It's going to be an amazing night. And just $6 as usual. Sign up between 6:30 and 7:00 pm. Open mic starts at 7:15 pm, feature at 8:00, and Slam Bush Slam at 8:30. Signing up is no guarantee that you will get to read of course. Some people may have to be part of the great audience that great poetry requires.

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Leave me Pigeon Poems here
I'm being interviewed by VH-1 on Friday, and they want me to talk about the symbolic importance of birds (specifically pigeons) for poets. I can quote Yeats's "In The Seven Woods," but I'd love to have something a little more modern, maybe a little more bombastic or tongue and cheek. So please! Help me look well read and literate. Leave me witty and eloquent quotations about birds and pigeons here as comments. Maybe I'll quote them on VH-1.

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The Poet and the Painter
Greetings from Belfast, Maine, a brick town on the sloping side of the Penobscott Bay, not too far from where I went to college (Bowdoin) years ago. I'm up here narrating "The Revenge of the Whale," a young adult version of "Into the Open Sea," both of which were written by Nathaniel Philbrick. The story is about the whaleship Essex, the only ship ever known to be attacked and sunk by one of the whales it was hunting. In November of 1820, 20 men abandoned the capsized Essex in three tiny whaleboats. After 90 days at sea only five survived. It's a gruesome story filled with cannibalism and the drawing of lots, and it was a lot of fun to record. Believe it or not, narrating is exhausting work! I had delicious two hour naps each afternoon, and tonight I expect I will sleep a full eight hours just like last night. Let me talk about last night a little bit. I had a beer with the painter Linden Frederick (he's married to the producer I record all my books for) after I got a tour of his new studio. He's got a show at the Forum Gallery in NYC this October (check out his work at www.forumgallery.com/b_frederick.htm), and he is finishing up two paintings for the catalogue. Here's the thing: I really like his work even though he is HARDCORE representational (as opposed to impressionistic or, God forbid, post modern). He is technically brilliant and paints Hopperesque, centralized scenes of commercial enterprises that seem a few months from bankruptcy. At 51, he is at the top of his game. His paintings sell for a lot (almost 50K!) and he sells almost all of them. For a painter, he is incredibly successful! But here's the sad part: the rest of the painting community in Belfast begrudges him his success. When he hangs out, it's with his cycling buddies, not his old painting buddies. Why is everyone so afraid of success that they must ascribe to to it an inherent loss of authenticity? He's doing what he loves. He's found his niche: he's fascinated with the moment when natural and artificail light are almost balanced (he also admitted that he like putting cars in his paintings, especially with their headlights on). People like his work. They want to buy it. Where's the problem?

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Editing Billy Collins
Yeah, he sends me his poems before he publishes them to see what I think. Actually, no. But he did read at Urbana in March of this year, fulfilling a four-year dream of mine. I must have written him a dozen letters (all from Kickbox, strangely) and even dropped by his Lehman College office hours once just to tell him he was my favorite poet. Now he's agreed to battle me one-on-one in an event that is tentatively titled "Page vs. Stage: The Final Smackdown!" It's scheduled for November of NEXT year (2005!), assuming we both live that long. He hasn't signed a contract yet because I haven't sent him one. See, I wanted to send him a cd of his performance at Urbana first. It was a great night, and I think he became a little more of a spoken word artist because of the experience. He was amazed at the reaction he was getting from the crowd! So last night, I finished editing the entire performance down to 12 tracks of amazing poetry. He's given me permission to use one track on the next Best of Urbana CD, but the rest of the the cd is essentially unuseable unless he says he wants to release it. Actually, what I'm hoping is that he will agree to let the Smackdown be videotaped. That would be awesome! I'm off to Maine tonight to narrate "The Revenge of the Whale" for Audio Bookshelf. Finally took in my photo of me and Allen Ginsberg to be scanned. We performed together at his last reading. I did "Totally Like Whatever," and he said the last line was good.

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Why I am a Republican
I might as well explain myself. I call myself a Republican and intend to vote for George Bush in November because I believe the following things to be true: People should work hard to improve their lot in life. Saddam Hussein was a threat to the world, but not when President Reagan was arming him. Trading with communist countries like Cuba is wrong, unless it’s China, in which case it’s more a question of international harmony and economic stability. A President lying about an extra-marital affair is an impeachable offense. Presidents should only lie in an effort to build international consensus. Uninsured single motherhood is nothing to be ashamed of. But so long as such people never vote, there’s nothing that can be done about it so the government should just leave them alone! Bringing democracy to the rest of the world is very important, except in Saudi Arabia. There, we need stability. Drug addiction is a crime, unless you’re white, in which case it’s an illness. Women cannot be trusted in the same way that multinational corporations can. Actions may speak louder than words, but the American public doesn’t listen to actions. It listens to the media, and the media finds it easier to report on words than actions. So what you say is actually more important than what you do. Therefore cutting veterans’ benefits and combat pay and instituting a back door draft has no bearing on military morale so long as you “Support Our Troops!” Teenagers who do not have access to condoms in school will not engage in unprotected sex. Now do you see where I’m coming from? Can’t we all just get along and play by my rules?

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The Tale of the Bad Black Pants
I bought them at a Froo-Froo store called Club Monaco before I went to Europe in May. They're nylon cargo pants, and the guy in the men's department said they would be a stylish alternative to my black suit pants (which everyone tells me is wrong! A black suit jacket and black nylon cargo pants? Puh-lease!). They were $99. The first time I wore them, I noticed that one of the knee patches (oh yeah, the have knee patches) had been cut off with a razor blade. Not really noticeable, but I felt swindled. So I put them back in the bag with the receipt (I thought) to exchange when I returned. Well today I returned them. Apparently the sliced off knee patch is "the style"; that's what they're supposed to look like. But the manager agreed to let me return them for store credit. However, the receipt was not for the pants but for the stupid travel clock that doens't work that I also wanted to return someday. Still, even without the receipt, the manager agreed to give me store credit for . . . $27. That's what the pants cost now. "I'd just keep the pants," than manager said. I was about to do so, but when I swept them off the counter, I heard and then saw a black button fall to the ground. If I had taken those pants back, I am now convinced, I would have been hit by a taxi on the way home. So I'm looking on the bright side: I have a $27 credit at Club Monaco! Maybe I'll go buy a black button.

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Doing some work on the battered self
I have recognized in myself a repellent duplicity (or is it duplicitousness?) that I would like to examine. Probably my most widely read poem, "What Teachers Make," (a four-minute video of which has just been accepted at the LA Film Festival! Yay!) artfully avers that it doesn't matter how MUCH you make so long as you are striving to make a DIFFERENCE in the world. Don't you dare judge anyone by how much money they make. I still believe that (even though I didn't have the presence of mind to answer the question with such eloquence and elan at the time; as a friend of mine always says when I finish that poem, "So what's that really? Like thirty-seven-five?"). And yet, a lot of what I want for teachers is more money! More money and more respect. Money is very tied up in my own ideas about worth, particularly when I am talking about another profession famous for its impecunious practitioners: Poets. When I put my classroom career on hold in 2000, I told myself that I would give myself a year: if I could make as much through poetry as I did as a teacher, I would try it for another year. I suppose I was lucky that the bar was set so low. Now, four years later, poetry brings in twice what I could expect to make as a teacher (with an MA and 14 years of experience). Is this something I should write about? Can you be a Marxist and own property? Do you need to be starving to be an artist? Is what I do art anymore? How dirty is money?

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God Bless the Williamsburg Bridge!
It's huge. I guess it's just finished construction, but there are four lanes leaving the city. The access from Delancey Street is flawless. You fly into the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn. In fact, God bless Brooklyn. Who ever thought they'd hear me say that? I have truly enjoyed my time surfing Lowell's couch. Who knows? When everything in my life is a little more settled, maybe my performance loft office will be in Brooklyn. Lowell's place is funky. Two big rectangular rooms, 25x30 with 15-foot ceilings and huge windows. Nothing on the walls yet. The bathroom is down the hall, and sometimes, when you really have to go, one of Lowell's neighbors is in there. You can see the light outlining the door like the poster of a scary movie. And he's got a cable modem and an airport. And my dog and I are going up to Kickbox tomorrow for a few days. Finally I will get to edit Billy Collins's 40-minute feature in March. Let's hope he let's me DO something with it. In the mean time. Where Brooklyn at!?

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Hi. My name is Taylor. And I'm a poet.
If I ever end up going to a poetry 12-step meeting, I will have no trouble with what I am almost certain will be the first step: Admit that you are powerless over poetry. It’s my drug, and it has been for years. I was blue yesterday. Lonely in a city of 13 million people. So I thought I’d cheer myself up by going to the Nuyorican Poets’ Café, which was having their welcome back party (like every other slam venue recently returned from the trying National Poetry Slam in St. Louis). Even standing outside made me feel better. It was a cover slam, which is sort of a tradition at the Nuyo. And good for them! We should all be covering other poets. Heck, we should all be READING other poets. No one reads as much as they should (especially me), but I know too many spoken word artists who don’t read anyone’s work but their own. Memorize another poet’s work? They may talk about it, but they never get around to doing it. Since my house is made entirely of self-centered glass, I can’t really throw that stone, but suffice it to say I thought a cover slam was just the thing. But after waiting forever for things to get started (call it Nuyo time), I realized that everyone else was covering other slam poets who had been to NPS. And by “covering,” I mean “reading.” No one had a piece memorized. It was a big slam-navel-gazing exercise, and almost everyone apologized to the bewildered audience for the insider nature of the whole evening. I’ll tell you one thing, though: there’s nothing like a well-meaning cover to realize how important editing is! What the author can get through in 3:09 in competition too often becomes 5:09 in the mouth of their tipsy teammate. What was the last poem of someone else’s you memorized?

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The timeline of my life and beyond
I was born on March 28, 1965. I will probably die sometime during the month of July in the year 2023, at the age of 58 years and three months (the age at which both of my parents died, albeit five years apart). Any time I have beyond that summer I will view as a gift. Then again, I view today as a gift. Lost my father in 1990; mother in 1995. I was married in 1993 and separated in 2002 (after stealing lots of great lines from my wife and using them in poems as if they were my own). Still waiting for the divorce to be finalized. Quit my teaching job in 2000. I predict I'll get married again in 2006. In 2007, I will start a cable access show called "Live at the Loft," which will feature poetry performances by poets I admire. My wife (whoever she is) will give birth to twin girls in 2008 (I'll be 43; that's not too old, right?). I'll join the faculty of Yale University that fall teaching poetry and spoken word. I will win the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 2010, and at the age of 50, be named United States Poet Laureate. Our girls will be 15 when I die, but I will have already given them such a solid foundation of love that they will have come to see grief as a necessary ingredient to a joyful life. They will graduate from high school in 2028. One will go to college; the other will start painting full time. "Live at the Loft" will continue long after my passing under the careful leadership of a series of artistic directors. I will never know my grandchildren, but I will write them letters and plan for their existence as well as their future. What's the timeline of your life?

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Thankful not to have competed
Even though I tried as hard as I could to make the Urbana team this year (without reading ancient poems), it was a blessing in disguise that I did not. There was too much work for me to do at NPS; had I been on a team, I would probably have melted into a puddle of tears each night (instead of listening to protests). So we're all back. It was a trying week in St. Louis. Very few locals knew we were there, and therefore did not show up. Every other problem--bouts not starting on time, other patrons being disrespectful, accusations of influencing the judges--is related to the utter dearth of audience. A huge appreciative crowd will forgive any number of sins. The silver lining is that the slam community really held together in spite of it all. Saturday's Slam Family meeting was an uncomfortable couple of hours. Two of the St. Louis organizers had to stand in the center of the meeting and be excoriated by the whole room. They took it well, I thought. The thing I've noticed about these meetings, however, is that most people treat their extemporaneous comments as a slam poem. And the ending is the problem. They keep talking until they get the ending they want. Few have the confidence to say what they want to say and leave it at that. Especially if there is no thunderous applause. In April, at the slammasters meeting, I said I was going to give two awards: one for the person who said the most in the fewest words, and another for the person who just could not stop talking. There was never an appropriate time to make the awards, but I wish someone would take on the responsibility of doling them out at the next slammasters' meeting (I can't be that person as prez). We are poets. We should choose our words carefully and be comforatble with silence.

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Who else knows they can change the world?
Tonight I am making a commitment to myself and the process of falling awake. I am reading the book (“Falling Awake,” by Dave Ellis) and I love it. It is confirming things I’ve always suspected but never really been able to capitalize on. I dreamed one day of making a living by traveling the world reading poetry and inspiring teachers, and now I’m doing that. It’s an amazing power and it must be used carefully. You have to know what you want. You have to speak it. You have to plan for it. What if I told you that you would receive only one out of ten things you asked for in life? Wouldn’t that be great?! The only person who would think that sucks is someone who had only asked for nine things and not gotten any of them. If you think I sound like I’m getting brainwashed by a cult, I don’t blame you. Ask for things in life! Write things down. Make promises to yourself and others (and keep them this time!). I think my life is going to start changing a lot for the better. It’s all about creating the life of your dreams by figuring out what you want. I can make the world a better place. It’s not too late. You can, too! Let’s start now.

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Still in Williamsburg
Turns out changing my ticket was not going to be as easy as I thought. I thought maybe $100 change fee would take care of it. No. A whole ticket was required, and it was going to cost $1,700. So I'm still here and going with Plan A, leave tomorrow at 9 AM. Had a dream last night that I needed to throw away some mess that I had made. I cleaned it up, but it was awkward; I could hold it in my hands, but just barely. You know when it takes every finger to hold something? I was looking for the trashcan because all I could do was just dump the whole thing. I found the trashcan and it was also full of awkward garbage to the brim. Needed to be emptied. So I'm emptying all my trash cans this morning.

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Getting ready to head off to NPS
The National Poetry Slam begins on Wednesday in St. Louis. As president of P.S.i., Wednesday is a little late for me to be arriving, so I'm planning on going to the airport tomorrow and flying standby on every flight until I get there. There's a bit of a flurry on the EC list right now about the Emcee Spiel, and whether or not "originality" can be added as one of the suggested criteria judges should use when evaluating a poet's performance. What do you think? Should the Host City have the authority to tweak the language of the Emcee Spiel every year? Or should that responsibility lie with the tournament director? Will the community protest the inclusion of "originality" in the spiel? "I would have scored MUCH higher if you hadn't told the judges that my poem should be original!" How much of this will be all my fault?

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I wonder what would happen
I found a company online that sells sold brass letters for mailboxes. What if I took a piece of cardboard the exact dimensions of my carry-on and pasted brass letters on it so that it read: "I am a poet. Please spend my tax dollars wisely." Would I get cavity searched every time?

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Greetings from Space Camp!
Last night was my fourth reading for the 50 Teachers-of-the-Year, and it confirmed my already well developed belief that I love reading for teachers! I get down on myself sometimes (like everyone does--on themselves, I mean, not on me! Although . . .) and think that I can't really continue to call myself an advocate for teachers since I left the regular classroom in 2000. But readings like last night help me realize that I am still teaching. And still learning. I didn't do any "missions" like I did last year when I came down with Greg Polvere, but I still had a blast. Teachers can drink, let me tell you. Hanging out now in the Huntsville airport, waiting to fly home. Come to tomorrow's Urbana sendoff party if you can. I am particularly interested in the cupcake-eating contest and the dreaded staring contest.

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Things to do: Fall
(Into the earth and around the roots, scratch bone meal). I am finding comfort in odd places these days, And today it is my mother’s gardening journal, Which begins, inexplicably—to me anyway— With the words “Jet Star, Big Boy, Better Boy,” Then “Poppies and Black-Eyed Susans.” Her handwriting speaks to me over years, Teaching me lessons I never learned When she was alive. Could she have known When she wrote, “Cilla and chinodotria by the stone wall: Beautiful blues!” what those words would mean to me, Sequestered, uprooted, single again? Here are her maps of raised beds, A catalog of sun and season. And I sit and read, reason, learn For instance, to divide bleeding hearts As new growth appears (she says new growth is fragile, But I somehow knew that). And now the entries become notes to a Karen, Whom I never knew, but who seems to be Some mercenary gardener she rarely met. "I figure you have your own tools that you bring. I have left you nothing here," she says. But I want to disagree and say yes, you did. Like mint among the iris, Or the snaking soaker hose buried in the dark earth. Continue to fertilize the laurel, But watch for the Japanese Painted Fern, In danger of being smothered. Let's meet some day next week to discuss long term plans. I'm worried about the day lilies at the wall. Enough sun? Too much? Nothing is urgent. Still. I drink these words. Sink my fingers into the blue lines Of each leaf and thank God I found this journal. How else would I have known how to handle my own irises? My overly aggressive peonies? Notes for the month of July. Sorry I missed you. House guests may not understand the importance of water. Please stop by if you have the time. The mill stone by the pond needs snapdragons. New day lilies are waiting to be resettled. A neighbor gave me some of her Johnson's Blue! Oh what to do? What to do? When can I see you face to face? There are things I want to do I can't explain. The entries stop the year she died, But I know she had plans for future growth And spoke of them often. And she and Karen must have met, Because the last entry says, "Thank you for letting me go on About everything I think I want." I write in haste; my ride is coming soon. I am giving away my bleeding hearts. Planted what I thought were delphiniums by the stone wall. We'll wait until the spring. See what blooms.

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Things to do: Fall Things to do: Fall
(Into the earth and around the roots, scratch bone meal). I am finding comfort in odd places these days, And today it is my mother’s gardening journal, Which begins, inexplicably—to me anyway— With the words “Jet Star, Big Boy, Better Boy,” Then “Poppies and Black-Eyed Susans.” Her handwriting speaks to me over years, Teaching me lessons I never learned When she was alive. Could she have known When she wrote, “Cilla and chinodotria by the stone wall: Beautiful blues!” what those words would mean to me, Sequestered, uprooted, single again? Here are her maps of raised beds, A catalog of sun and season. And I sit and read, reason, learn For instance, to divide bleeding hearts As new growth appears (she says new growth is fragile, But I somehow knew that). And now the entries become notes to a Karen, Whom I never knew, but who seems to be Some mercenary gardener she rarely met. "I figure you have your own tools that you bring. I have left you nothing here," she says. But I want to disagree and say yes, you did. Like mint among the iris, Or the snaking soaker hose buried in the dark earth. Continue to fertilize the laurel, But watch for the Japanese Painted Fern, In danger of being smothered. Let's meet some day next week to discuss long term plans. I'm worried about the day lilies at the wall. Enough sun? Too much? Nothing is urgent. Still. I drink these words. Sink my fingers into the blue lines Of each leaf and thank God I found this journal. How else would I have known how to handle my own irises? My overly aggressive peonies? Notes for the month of July. Sorry I missed you. House guests may not understand the importance of water. Please stop by if you have the time. The mill stone by the pond needs snapdragons. New day lilies are waiting to be resettled. A neighbor gave me some of her Johnson's Blue! Oh what to do? What to do? When can I see you face to face? There are things I want to do I can't explain. The entries stop the year she died, But I know she had plans for future growth And spoke of them often. And she and Karen must have met, Because the last entry says, "Thank you for letting me go on About everything I think I want." I write in haste; my ride is coming soon. I am giving away my bleeding hearts. Planted what I thought were delphiniums by the stone wall. We'll wait until the spring. See what blooms.

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A night of recognition
God help me if I ever come to EXPECT to be recognized as a poet while walking down the street, but last night was NYC Regional #2 at the Nuyorican Poet's Cafe--one of the oldest slam venues in the country and arguably the most famous--and as trying as any night can be there (it's always PACKED so the bathroom is rarely available and the night doesn't even start until 10:30 PM) I usually run into one or two fans of my work "who just, like, HAVE to tell me, like, how much they. like, LIKE my work." It's one of the egotistical rockstar moments that poetry sometimes can afford. Slam was good. Nuyorican won again (they also won on Thursday at Urbana even though they didn't really embrace the rule of bringing NEW, NEVER-BEEN-PERFORMED-BEFORE poetry. They never do). I got to see Urbana's group piece, the nacense of which had been in the driveway of Kickbox. I haven't sat in on a single Urbana rehearsal, and it's been an adjustment to say the least. This is Celena's team, and if or when she wants my input I'm sure she will ask for it. George and Rachel did their group piece, and I noticed a wonderful closeness between them physically. Before the piece began, George sort of put a protective arm around her and she whispered something to him. During the piece she would often lean her head back against George. It added so much to the piece (which is about the noble struggle of parenting), and it turns out it was Celena's suggestion! I don't give her enough credit. I didn't think she would care about those little moments of metaperformance that can add so much to a poem. You have to score (in my slam school) EVERY moment you are up on stage, from the way you adjust the mic to the way you accept your applause. Such "polish" often flies in the face of a desire for realness and authenticity (qualities that are much more important Celena). Anyway, I'm off to Spcae Camp Monday to read for the Teachers-of-the-Year for the fourth year in a row! This is one of my favorite readings of the year. But intimidating, too! People tell me I must have been a great teacher (still am if they know my definition of "poet"), but THESE 50 teachers I read for every year: they ARE, by definition, amazing teachers! I intend to listen and learn.

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