When my hair was not quite this red or puffy or locked up in knotted disturbances, I used to drive borrowed red two-doored car with Jersey plates and Jersey interior and head to The Internet Cafe (no longer in existence, sadly) in Red Bank for their Sunday open mic.
I was still gathering up the cadence of my voice and figuring out my poetic intentions.
I was new to this scene and yet I remember I had a poem that I regularly read:
It was in my I-Hate-All-Men-Because-I-Think-I’m-Supposed-To phase. I was still in some kind of closet. Gay without knowing it or calling myself this or announcing it.
man, you make my heart bleed with frustration/everytime i see your beady eyes/my hands outstretch to rip out your heart/until i realize/you have none to take away/
I am not as angry as I once was. Or, at least it isn’t focused on a particular gender, rather the politics of gender and sex and body.
Sunday, Aug. 14th, I return to Red Bank, New Jersey with Red hair and Red blood and Red poems, slightly older and thicker and louder. I’ll be performing alongside fabulous Uphook Press poets: John Trause and Francesca Sphynx @ 2:30pm at No Joe’s Café 51 Broad St.