The world is on fire, and all I have is reflections
An update on KB(™), a story to help fireproof your soul, and an introspective view on liquids!
Lovers & Friends,
Yo! KB here, as always. I come to you on Friday the 27th, which feels like Friday the 13th, but doesn’t every Friday in the U.S.of Aches feel like Friday the 13th? I don’t have anything to say about #thenews but hug the young people, parents, teachers, and K-12 school admins you know.
Yep.
Below are a couple of KB updates:
Pri[de Mon]th is around the corner, and so I’ve gotten booked. Learn more about my shows (in Austin! And Dallas! And zoom!) here. Please show your cute face OR ELSE (I will be sad).
Since we last spoke, I won a pretty prestigious poem prize. The prize-winning poem can be read (or listened to) here.
I had an (unfortunately relevant) poem AND a Steven Universe poem go live with Drunk Monkeys magazine this week. You can read them here and here.
I’ve been doing such BEAUTIFUL interviews with the likes of the Chicago Review of Books, Sightlines Magazine, and more. Check out all my recent convos and reviews here.
Please ask your local public library, bookstore, university, college, book club, or political education group to please carry my debut poetry book. It would mean the world to me! The ISBN is 978-1-952224-13-3, and its full name is “How To Identify Yourself With a Wound”. Let's get it poppin baby!!!!!
Now that that’s out of the way, I want to offer an instance of joy that I experienced this week. We ALL need something joyful right now, and so I’m hoping to share things that make you smile. I’m also adding a prompt at the end. :*
***
Last Saturday, I was in Dallas for a panel on reproductive justice. As soon as the panel concluded, my partner and I went to a crown of museums — Dallas Contemporary, then Dallas Museum of Art, then African American museum — to pass the time before dinner.
As we were driving into the Dallas African American museum parking lot, a Black man — the security guard directing people to where they’re trying to go in this multiple-business parking lot — stopped us and said “baby boy, you drivin so slow. You sure you ain't runnin outta gas?” Me, him, and my partner all laughed as if we knew Harold by his smile and not his nametag. He then asked, “where are y’all headed?”
“African American Museum,” I said. The sign said “parking: $10.” Harold said, “no need to pull out your wallet. Just drive to the part where all the other cars are.” He pointed out directions like we didn’t have GPS up— a familiar Black uncle sentiment. He said, eyes looking directly into mine, “that’s why I’m here. To take care of us.”
***
I discovered this very catchy (and also ridiculous) Kandi Burruss song on TikTok and have been randomly singing “LEEEEGS AND HIPSSS AND BODYYY” for the past week.
***
For the past six weeks, I have been teaching an Introduction to Poetry and Publishing class with The Writing Barn, and that wrapped this week. The class was the day after [insert horrible thing that I won’t mention but everyone knows what I’m talking about], and we were all feeling tired, angry, and disappointed. I gave everyone this prompt, inspired by my friend Alison Villiaisana, that I will now give to you:
If everything you were feeling right now was liquid, what would it be?
What container would the liquid be in?
Where are you gonna place that liquid?
***
I hope that I’m reaching you while you’re in the best mood possible. I hope that all your trees are thriving, every dream you have feels a little closer, and you plan to reward yourself with a great meal. If that is not the case, I’m hoping that this prompt can serve as a re-regulation tool, or a tool to spool together writings that you can be proud of.
I appreciate you, family. Here’s to all the joy that is on its way to you.
Love, peace, and chicken grease,
KB