The epic is a set of poem that I wrote about parts of my mothers life leading up to the lose of a son. It is written in chapters because I was trying to write one poem and got four instead at the third chapter my mother ceases to be the main character. Instead her children are promoted to center stage. At the end of the poem it goes from third person narrative to first person. Anyway I read this twice in my life. Once for the Acentos one year anniversary, and the second was for one of my first open mic's at Bar 13. Because of the length of the piece I never did it again. Also because it need major chopping. I don't always think so, but I know that editing is in order.
I was flabbergasted on Tuesday night when someone I haven't noticed told me that it was strongly branded into their mind. That the images were as vivid as actual reality. She also commented on my uppercase, and several poems that I have read during the past 5 or 6 months.

The day before a gentlemen approached me for the same reason. He didn't know anybody in 13 and he wanted to comment about my work. He even asked me if I had my own merchandise. I need to put together a chapbook some day.

The fact that my work has been recognized and admired, if you will, by people outside of my inner circle, is a huge accomplishment. It means that their are people, who listen and remember for their own reason. Not because they will hang out with you later, or they will help you with a poem, or because they know that you will want feedback when you get off the stage. Friends sometime listen because they are friends. They are eager to see what new things have been written by said friend. With strangers the critic is a lot more honest. They either like you or don't for their own reasons which they never need to share.

I am totally blessed to be able to read something, that will stick to someone's head, one way or another. I may not write poetry that saves lives but I apparently write stuff that is remembered by some. I couldn't be happier.


Last night I ended up in front of the movie theater near Lincoln plaza. The Indie theater, not the Sony. I didn't plan to see a movie, so I suggest Maria Full of Grace. It was the only movie I recognized when I read the list. A movie about a MULE. I knew people that have provided the service in the past and I thought that it might've been cool to watch. Marisol suggests a movie about two dudes on a beat up motorcycle. Since I usually choose the movies, I figure I'd let her mess up for once. I went with it. A Movie about Alberto Granado and Ernest Guevara, "Fuser". That is what he was called by friends and family by his 23rd year of life. Fuser's journey to cover the western coast of South America, was incredible. People here in the United States call themselves American. We are. We from America, North and South are American. We might have Amerigo Vespucci to thank for that but fact still remains that it is the name that we know it for. Both North and South are America. Fuser learned so much on one trip, during his 23rd year. I am 23 now and I haven't learned as much. He also was a few classes away from being a MD. This movie was awesome. The evolution of two men, seeing poverty, real gentrification, anti-communism hatred, and sick and healthy people segregated by a river. This community of lepers was only fed if they attended daily Catholic mass. Fuser and Granado didn't want mass and were refused food. I give away any more of the movie, allow me to just say that it touched me in a special It was emotionally moving.

That is enough for now, but more to come soon...