NYC Governor’s Island Poetry Festival!!

Celebrate Poetry, Sun, and Imaginations gone WILD at the annual NYC Governor’s Island Poetry Festival.

I will be there with great weather for MEDIA and hosting Queer Art Organics on Saturday July 29th, featuring Trae Durica, Sarah Sala, and Aldrin Valdez at 2pm on the Algonquin Stage.

 

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Upcoming Performance: July 26th

Wednesday, July 26th: Storytellers

7:30pm/  Ode to Babel / 772 Dean St. / Brooklyn, NY 

Storytellers Reading hosted by Brett Burns
Featuring:
Aimee Herman, Georgia Clark, Amy Poeppel, Duarte Geraldino, Ashley Toussaint, Andres Cerpa

Performance: Sunday, July 23rd

Sunday July 23rd 

5-8pm /  Brickhouse Brewery and Restaurant / 67 West Main St. Patchogue, Long Island

Rainbow of Resistance: Poetry, Art and Music for the Trevor Project
Poetry, Music and Art By:

Aimee Herman, Trae Durica, Rorie Kelly, Terri Muuss, Maggie Burke, Nichole Acosta, LB Thompson, Travis Madison, Annie Manildoo and a talk by Luna Vasquez

Organizers: Russ Green, Rorie Kelly & LB Thompson
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how to walk outside when skin is made of nervous

first published by great weather for MEDIA

 

Origami the front page of The New York Times into an airplane. Watch words, carefully cropped photographs, and haunted headlines swoop into the air as you allow the trauma of the world to fly away from you. Inhale and exhale every yoga position you’ve studied. Remember that just waking up is enough to feel like you’ve accomplished something today. Give your mouth permission to shape itself in whatever position it wants; smiles are always optional. Stop when you need to and if you only get past your stoop, that’s OK. Give your body a standing ovation because organs and skin never receive the recognition they deserve. You will get lost, you will eat something that will cause your belly to renounce itself, you will want to hide, want to climb your way toward an unbothered planet, that’s OK. Listen: there is music playing. Your lungs. The trees. Your hair humming against ears. A cardinal calming you toward one more block. Your teeth, settling in to themselves. That woman saying, bless you. Litter like wind chimes against pavement.