This is how I say goodbye to poetry in the UK for now.
On the 8th of December I was a headliner at Get Mouthy, one of my favourite poetry nights in my adopted city of Leicester, in the UK. For a bit over twenty minutes, I presented material from my book Meanwhile (2020, Burning Eye Books) as well as newer stuff.
It was a surprisingly optimistic and hopeful setlist. I knew that if I'd read anything a little darker, I'd end up in a puddle of tears on the floor. But honestly, I've been so, so grateful for these months of love, connection, and friendship. For reconnecting with poetry in the place where it all began, in a more genuine and loving atmosphere. A far cry from the chaos, the technological overload, and the contempt that the news and the media try to instill in us.
The magic in words has been a recurring theme these past few months. I had a negative experience elsewhere some time ago, which inspired me to write “Celebration(?)”, partly a commemoration of my years on stage and on page, partly an exercise in expressing what I want for myself and fellow creators:
To headline shows everywhere where we don’t have to pay to get there, where the organisers are caring enough to pronounce everyone’s names right, where participants and audiences hype each other up rather than just waiting for their turn to talk, where we sell at least a few copies of our work every single time, and where we finally get some respect.
Because that’s what we owe to those who bare their souls on page and onstage, because it’s not an easy duty. At best it can make us feel awkward and shy and at worst it can cost us our lives.
And our souls might feel like they’re wilting sometimes. We’re broke, we’re exhausted, we’re torn into pieces. But the alternative, keeping quiet and staying hidden, is so much worse.
Because the opposite of depression is not mere happiness.
The opposite of depression is expression.
And expression’s what keeps us alive.
And it came true. Literally, days after I wrote and shared it with the world, it came true. I was invited to headline my two favourite poetry nights in my city: Pingggg…K! and this one.
Many other things have come true once I've put them on paper and, sometimes, into spoken words. I'll talk more about them in time. For now, I'm very grateful for writing, for friendship, for the world, for life.
I want this poetry, this love, and this energy, to continue in Monterrey.
Tomorrow I'm going back to Monterrey, Mexico. This time I'll be here for a long time. In a few months, my whole family will be all reunited here. So now I'm hoping something similar happens in my city, my country, my region. That it spreads throughout the world. But above all, that what happens in one home doesn't become obsolete in another.
I've fought so hard to reach this creative and community point in Leicester. I don't want to end up with nothing in Monterrey. Ultimately, everything is happening in the same world and the same dimension. In the same life. Afternoons and evenings such as this one will come to the land of my birth. You'll see. You'll read. So much love can't be concentrated in just one spot in the universe.
