This man was my teacher for much of the past weekend

[nolabear]

Back from NYC. Part of what I did there involved poetry workshops with Martin Espada, one of the finest poets, and one of the most political poets, in the world today. If you care about politics, poetry or both, he's well worth hearing. Btw he's a helluva good guy, too.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9-4a-3LNlfo

[CaliforniaPeggy]

1. My dear nolabear...

Thank you for this video of that amazing poet.

I had not heard of him before. I can imagine that your weekend was damn good...

[nolabear]

3. You're welcome! And it was.

I thought of you when I posted because I knew you'd respond. His appreciation for other poets is delightful, as well.

[MiddleFingerMom]

2. WOW!!! AND a voice that most poets can only wish for.

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Welcome back!!!
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Why have I never heard of him before? (I know the answer -- he's not Snookums, or
whatever her name is).
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I don't think I EVER met a poet on a national tour that I didn't like. They were all very
nice, unassuming... and almost every single one of them had a DYNAMITE sense of humor.
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My favorite was probably Gary Soto (out of Fresno and Berkley). He's always reminded
me of one of my favorite authors, John Steinbeck -- both wrote of the natural dignity
and nobility in "common folk".
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The Philadelphia Transit System (SEPTA) once put up short poems by various artists on
the overhead banners in their buses. One was by Soto about a man coming home from a
day in the fields and sitting in his backyard under a tree drinking a glass of iced
tea. It was only several lines long -- and it was BEAUTIFUL... but I've never been
able to find it online.
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[nolabear]

4. Yes, that voice rumbles up from somewhere and you can feel it.

I've heard of Gary Soto but can't being his work to mind. I'll check.

Seattle used to have a regular "Bus Poetry" competition but I think they've discontinued it.

Good to be back. I'm whooped.

[MiddleFingerMom]

5. Gary Soto's most famous piece is "Oranges" -- a sweet piece, indeed.

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. Oranges .
by Gary Soto
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The first time I walked
With a girl, I was twelve,
Cold, and weighted down
With two oranges in my jacket.
December. Frost cracking
Beneath my steps, my breath
Before me, then gone,
As I walked toward
Her house, the one whose
Porch light burned yellow
Night and day, in any weather.
A dog barked at me, until
She came out pulling
At her gloves, face bright
With rouge. I smiled,
Touched her shoulder, and led
Her down the street, across
A used car lot and a line
Of newly planted trees,
Until we were breathing
Before a drugstore. We
Entered, the tiny bell
Bringing a saleslady
Down a narrow aisle of goods.
I turned to the candies
Tiered like bleachers,
And asked what she wanted -
Light in her eyes, a smile
Starting at the corners
Of her mouth. I fingered
A nickle in my pocket,
And when she lifted a chocolate
That cost a dime,
I didn’t say anything.
I took the nickle from
My pocket, then an orange,
And set them quietly on
The counter. When I looked up,
The lady’s eyes met mine,
And held them, knowing
Very well what it was all
About.
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Outside,
A few cars hissing past,
Fog hanging like old
Coats between the trees.
I took my girl’s hand
In mine for two blocks,
Then released it to let
Her unwrap the chocolate.
I peeled my orange
That was so bright against
The gray of December
That, from some distance,
Someone might have thought
I was making a fire in my hands.
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[Heidi]

6. DEROS, by Steve Mason.

http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=show_mesg&forum=364&topic_id=1845381&mesg_id=1845381

[nolabear]

7. Magnificent. Every sense evoked, and so tender.

Thanks for that gift! I hadn't read it. Off to the Googles.