In Cincinnati I read for a gallery full of students who treat me like a real writer. I can see in these faces that they are ready for a new verse. They respond astoundingly to my performance. They have never seen anything like this, and I want to say, I am only bringing a fraction of what I am a part of back home. That there are so many others like me writing urgently and modernly who would blow you away if you could see them. Most people now read the poetry of dead people, so they think poetry is dead, or at least unrelatable. I feel so fortunate that I am part of a small group of people bringing poetry into the Internet Age.
I meet other writers who are young and full of flames and we trade books. Then at a reading in Indianapolis a woman wearing a jade necklace comes up to me and tells me she is a seer. She says I have a male presence following me and he is perhaps a very minor influence in my work. I ask her if he's a spirit, like as in a dead person, or something else. She shrugs. Tells me she's not sure, but she thinks he's been with me since I was young. That he became intrigued with my talent at an early age and has followed me, though she's not sure how much time he spends with me. Her first idea was that he is a writer of the past, but she's not sure about that part.
If that's true, I hope he's not someone too crazy. And I kind of wish he'd talk to me once in a while so I wouldn't feel so lonely all the time. I guess I've always been too cerebral for those types of conversations.