He is/was a great Philly poet, and I had the opportunity to know the past four years. He is loved by many, and will be missed by us all. My heart was broken to read he had left us last night. I cry every time I see his photo. Smyte was only in his 30s and had very profound poetry. He recited his and others work in a Spoken Word fashion. Something I have always wished I could do by memory.

The last time I saw him at a reading I didn’t know who he was. He grabbed my arm, I looked down and saw this shallow face telling me hello. Then when they called his name I was shocked to see it was him. He had posted the cancer was beaten several times, so to find he was so ill, well, now I wish I could hug him so tight. Goodbye friend. xoxo

Jab, and an OUCH!

November 11, 2013

Up late one night trying to wind down I had a good laugh. Whether they are rehearsed shows or not, what I saw was just so down to earth. Actors, comedians, and the like thespians can really inspire you!

With A Potato, Clothespins, And I Never Saw The Needle Coming

Watching Jimmy Fallon on late night TV getting his ears jabbed by a movie icon with a large needle in his hand made me think of how one block over as a kid — Moonbeam Road, a mystic street of Catholic idol lined yards and bohemian mural painted living rooms over my own bare bone abode mystified me.  Where God’s team tornadoes made more touch downs than the local high school football team, I was offered a free experience. Something a poor girl could not refuse. Young girls communal mothers would pierce each ear at no cost. In the shadowy evening I took my younger sister by her hand and we ventured across a line. Then my friends mom would hold ice on each lobe, placing a needle over a gas stove top, and then pierced each x marks-a-lot spot. Afterward, she place twisted looped string through the holes. Free to leave, I fumbled with coin offerings, then we were instructed to turn the twine as often as we remembered. Pain was part of the sacrifice. At night, I turned, turned, and turned them praying to my own deity my mother would never notice; until the hole in my pocket earnings began to resemble a the ever vast earth beyond my own flat place.

Just a draft…can it really amount to anything else?