upfromsumdirt

HBD!! 🥳

Today is my birthday. I'm gonna eat crap and enjoy things I like. I may regret it tomorrow but that's what tomorrow is for.

Anyway, do me a favor:

Listen to Black women.
Be kind, not nice.
Protect all lgbtqa kids.
Be good to yourself.
Drink more water.
Read a good yuri manga.
Use alt text.

but now i caint remember it to save my life...

this is a fucked up #dreamjournal #dirtsdream

vaughn?
twan?
john???

(nah, those aint it!) 😡

i said "yeah" then said his name to her... then he asked if i wanted to hang out (recalling promises to do so when we last bumped into each other), i said sure (but really didnt want to) and then we proceeded to leave the bank to discuss when

i JUST woke up from that; had said his name & errthang.

how i forget his name that quick?!? i just dozed off for like a minute & had a very short dream of a friend from the neighborhood ‐ i was on the phone talking with crys when i ran into him at a bank. i asked crys if she ever met him she couldnt recall but said "the grandson from across the street?"

hue raised you.

ibis, but i bite.

new poems written in the wee hours are a witchcraft.

i wish i had saved the Césaire epigraph from Fisherman's Wife for this one, but i'm gonna find something appropriate, i swairfogawd.

(40 pages from having a finished collection and already thinking on epigraphs!)

it DID become a sonnic... and maybe my favorite one so far (tho ive only written 3 previously). it definitely fits the tone of the w.i.p and is going in the book... after feeling down these past few weeks, this has me feeling rejuvenated.

this might end up as a "sonnic"... for the uninitiated, a sonnic is some [strikethrough text] shit [/strikethrough text, i said!] poetic form i made up: a double sonnet separated by a haiku or senryu.

but no guarantees that the second sonnet rhymes. 😑

my first poem of the year?
certainly my first sonnet...
& definitely my first rhyming sonnet — ever!

[this might be the opening (or ending) to a new poem]

*butterfly switchblades to the left of me, banana float sundaes to my right*

as volatile as i often feel when writing any poem, there is a lot of humor in my poetry.

i think many readers are surprised by this as poets are not supposed to have fun. but muhammad ali is the patron saint of us thick-lipped shit talkers from louisville ‐ why would i avoid humor or sarcasm?

National Association of Black Bookstores

Black-owned bookstores in the U.S. now have their own directory for the first time ever, launched by the nonprofit National Association of Black Bookstores www.nab2.org

definitely worth having (as well as his other 3 books). Get an early start on your Upfromsumdirt library.

or you can pay for both through paypal, if youd like. $22

upfromsumdirt at gmail dot com

shipping has gone up, but the book price covers that. but if you wanna paypal me an extra $12 i'll also send one of my remaining author copies of The Second Stop Is Jupiter, if interested. it's the heaviest into scifi/fantasy/mythology.

take advantage of my laziness ‐ the pdf is still free/pay what you like and the paperback is $10 - prices that were supposed to end on my january 21st birthday, but havent changed yet. regular prices are $6 pdf and $16 paperback.

upfromsumdirt.gumroad.com

photo of the poetry collection Deifying A Total Darkness. an illustrated figure in black and red with a blue cap & sneakers holds a black and gold sword while standing over a slain lion with a severed paw.

anyway, happy belated 6th bday, little buddy... 🎂 🥳

this was the week that covid began shutting everything down. no one but folks on planes was masking up. and of the 25 or so folks that came to my reading at least 3 were infected with covid that night.

Deifying A Total Darkness was available that January but it's official launch was with this March 1, 2020 reading at New York's Zinc Bar. i meant to shout ahit out 5 days ago but forgot.

& GZA was headlining that night at the Blue Note across the street... i almost skipped my own shit.

i dont like this feeling of my work in progress feeling like an albatross.

i have to the end of the month to submit a full-length collection to a few publishers (nearly 20 pages short) but im just not seeing any advantage for the self-induced stress to make those deadlines.

this might likely be my last book of poems so maybe i shouldnt rush it.

photo of grippo's hot and spicy flavored popcorn: a dark, red dust coated popcorn in a snack bag.

the local gas station has these again and they are the best thing grippo's makes. i shouldve bought the whole inventory (only 3 bags) because lord knows when theyll have them in again.

this is what i try (& fail) to replicate when using spicy oil & various chili powders when popping my own.

a home for weirdies was the entire pitch, but they aint mean it. not a bit of it.

i earned $1500+ for my first collection, Deifying A Total Darkness, but only because the publisher was extremely generous with sharing any profits.

to date, that sum far exceeds earnings for collections 2, 3, & 4 combined.