poetry salon in Sedona, Arizona

reading reading read
work, listening, writing, comments
=
grand finale show





at Cafe Zelo Cosi


Clock wise: (sort of)

Carl Weis
Burt Cisneros
Sondraya
Gary Every
Shotsie Gorman

...and there were many more poets but my camera skills were lacking that evening. I was trying hard to listen to the show, watch the crowd, and prepare for my reading. Would words really drop out of my mouth, would those words even resemble what was written on the paper? Would the alliteration snarl up in a ball and get stuck? Would those metaphors confound and shrink into just a pile of stupid words? Would the audience find my visions too shocking? And in the end only a tiny little voice spit those edgy parables out. Where in the world has that tiny little voice been all my big mouth life?