Austin Transplanted Poet, Anis Mojgani, For Those Who Can Still Ride An Airplane For The First Time. Ask any slam/spoken word poet who their favorite poet is and odds are that this miracle of a man is in their top 5. He astounds. He lifts. He soothes. He is one of the best we’ve got. Also a Write Bloody Author, you can find him touring all over the country and more of his work at The Piano Farm.

Austin Poet, Danny Strack, A Wish That The Universe Wasn’t Made Out of Clocks, Danny is a one of those brilliant people who understands science and poetry and can makes sense if it in a stunning way. He also juggles. Literally. Find more of his work on his website. And look for him traveling around the country and being the slammaster for the Austin Poetry Slam, Tuesday nights at SpiderHouse Ballroom. 

Austin Slam Poet, Lacey Roop, Gender is a Universe. This is the first poem I ever saw Lacey do. So much heart and expansive language. This poem says and does so much. You can check out more of Lacey’s work on her website. Also, look for her touring across the country and at her home venue tonight, SpiderHouse Ballroom in Austin, TX. 

Winter Issue of Muzzle

stevietheclumsy:

I’m super duper excited about the latest issue of Muzzle!

With poems by Malachi Black, Reginald Dwayne Betts, Gregory Pardlo, Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz, Sierra DeMulder, Megan Falley, Michael Mlekoday, and many other talented folks, this might just be my favorite issue yet. The poetry happening in this issue is just flat out stunning. 

Oh damn. So many glorious writers in this issue! Can’t wait to snuggle with it.

(via meganfalley)

I said a poem for my girlfriend on All About You which airs on KSBI “Family Television” here in Oklahoma, and they didn’t even register it as being “gay.” At the end she says, “That is just like every man.” I guess they didn’t catch the “Ellen fans” or the “tux with heels” or the “closet door” reference but that’s quite alright because I got to say a poem for my sweetie on TV. I come in at 2:33 if you feel like watching it. Sorry for the advertising. 

Unconventional Love Poem #2, Derrick C. Brown, Woman Sleeping In a Room Full of Hummingbirds

Teased by success.
we are like vampires in tampon factory.
It doesn’t have to be this way.

The only good monologue has mistakes.

I will read out of this book of drawings.
This is a book of lovers/freaks I tried to change.
I had new visions of them and tried to draw them all in a book.
The strange thing is… my drawings kind of look like you.

In some ways you look like the star of the wheelchair parade.
This one lover and I went everywhere in our wheelchairs.
I couldn’t convince this lover that some day, I needed to stand on my own.
So it ended ugly and they rolled out of my life forever.

This is a self portrait.
I drew myself as a Bengal Tiger smacked up out of its orange. 
Pacing, just pacing until my next meal. Grrrr.
Shading’s a little off.
I call it “Hushing my legs out to the twilight poison
of h-h-hot bitch knife flavored lip gloss- in still life.”
This was the point in my life where I blabbed too much
and that shooed away inspiration.

I didn’t have a grasp of what was happening to my heart
until after that first break up. I won’t bore you with anything
but the necessary details but let’s just say I was plowing anything
that smelled disinfected and didn’t wear pookah shells.

I was fake.
I tried all kinds of leadership seminars 
to shirl these feelings of being fake.

I started making lists to get the stripes back on the tiger.
I was watching my stripes slip from my spine,
laying there on the ground like a bunch of parenthesis.
Not to sound self-righteous, but the lists became my glue to become myself again. 

It was text I had crafted from a place I didn’t ever know existed.
No bald headed philosophies. Just boot strap shit.

Go away therapy. Flush home pills. Make lists.
My lists started out strange.
When I got to the end of them,
I felt beautiful, but yes, they did start out strange.

#1. Do something rebellious to get out of your comfort zone.

My first graffiti art said, “Don’t pierce your babies ears.
They don’t like it and no one thinks it’s cute except for you
and your friends with jet skis.”
That felt pretty bitchin’ and looked kinda gangsta in a Mormon sorta way. 

#2. Write something down that is impossible and write it as possible.

It took me a while but I came up with this little gem. 

“Be on time.”

There are a whole bunch I made, which are a bit embarrassing, 
but the last one became my favorite.

#46. One day, when you are tired of being broken,
carefully strap little LED lights to hummingbirds,
at least 52 of them
and release the birds into your lover’s bedroom at night.

When he or she asks you what is going on,
tell him or her to be still,
lay there like idiots,
make some dumb wishes and enjoy your shooting stars.
The ones you made on your own.
Make endless wishes.

The birds can take it. 

{Derrick Brown is the author of I Love You Is Back, Scandalabra, Strange Light and others, as well as the Grand Puba of Write Bloody Publishing. He is a failed mime and the captain of everything else. Visit his shenanigans here.

Sonya Renee Taylor. The poem that spawned the movement: The Body Is Not An Apology. If you haven’t already joined the Facebook group, you should do that now. Bodies of all genders, sizes, scars, and glories gather to celebrate in our gorgeous. Without boundary or shame, it is a peaceful kiss for every limb. Sonya Renee is an Individual World Poetry Slam Champion, a member of Saltlines Poetry Tour and a longtime advocate for anyone who needs a voice. Here she is on Snap Judgement too. 

Eboni Hogan. “We’ve been know to really dazzle. All bent nail shuffle and broken bottle trot but my vagina, ever the vengeful cunt that she is, never forgets a face, will hold a grudge between her asphalt fist and squeeze a hail mary from it.” If you don’t have time to watch the whole video (worth every second) I suggest you at least watch the first two minutes. This woman is not only a Women of the World Poetry Slam Champion but has a hysterical Tumblr blog about being pregnant. Also, I may or may not have served as a Tiny White Lady Hands Bra for her.