Drunk on Poetry

Melinda Palacio

Sporting one of my official Bird Forgiveness Tour outfits. 

As the sights and sounds of my magical vacation to Ireland start to fade like the voices in the movie set in Scotland, Brigadoon, I'm thrust back into the reality of my stateside life, which is not bad in itself. The last two weeks, I had two book tour events in New Orleans. The first, reading with the poetry buffet, I was joined by New Orleans Poets Valentine Pierce and Dennis Formento, and our poetess hostess, Gina Ferrara. Dennis reminded me of how our reading was a sort of literary reunion. Four years ago, the three of us read together in the 7th Ward, and Dennis secured a radio spot for us, leading up to the reading. These are connections I'm honored to make as an adopted New Orleans poet. The benefits of being married to a Southern man include an extended home in New Orleans, but California is where I am from and where I vote. 

Recently, a friend wondered if I loved to tour since sighting of the Bird Forgiveness Book Tour is heavily announced on social media. I don't mind running around from venue to venue. The best part of the book tour is sharing my work with newcomers. I especially love when people who say they aren't big readers or who have never been to a literary event, fall in love with my books. And, as my friend, Reyna Grande says, the books don't sell themselves. People enjoy hearing from the author directly. They want to hear the words in the poet's own voice. Recently, I received a phone call from someone who attended my reading at the Maple Leaf Bar last Sunday. She spoke about how much she enjoyed my presentation and also complemented me on my bird dress. Although I've seen plenty an author show up in frumpy clothes, my mother taught me better. It is from her that I get my aesthetic to show up properly dressed when speaking in front of an audience, even if that audience is made up of a handful of people. When I was a teenager, I was a slob and often went to school with shorts over my pajamas and a big lumpy sweater, while my mother, a teacher, was always dressed very nicely. Somewhere along my journey to healing from the grief of losing her (she was 44 when she left this earth), I took on the quality she had of putting some effort into my appearance and planning my outfits ahead of time. I still don't go all out the way she did. I don't roll my hair because it's naturally curly (she always wanted curly hair and I always wanted her straight hair) and I don't wear much makeup because I have allergies and I am always rubbing my eyes and sneezing (I am especially allergic to cats).

The Maple Leaf Bar's back patio

When people compliment me on my presentations and my appearance, I know she is smiling on me. Last Sunday, at the Maple Leaf Bar, was no exception. A friend in the audience asked if I had noticed the gigantic Monarch Butterfly that graced my reading. How could I not notice the larger than life creature, a blessing indeed. The Maple Leaf Bar can be a tough venue because some people don't necessarily show up for the poetry, but to throw back a few drinks in the outdoor patio. While one or two inebriated people were a little loud in their applause or praise for my poetry, I was not thrown off and I steadily and professionally delivered each poem. At the end of the day, I sold and signed more books than I had expected and won over some new fans, drunk or not. 

Poet Charles Baudelaire, asks us to be drunk, "But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk."  "Enivrez-Vous. Mais de quoi? De vin, de poésie, ou de vertu, á votre guise. Mais enivrez-vous. In New Orleans, The Soul Rebels Brass Band suggests: "Drink A Little Poison Before You Die." 

If you're in New Orleans the second week of November, don't miss a chance to experience the Louisiana Book Festival, beginning with a cocktail party at the State Library Friday, November 9 and a full program of literary events Saturday, November 10. This year marks the 15th anniversary of the best literary event in Baton Rouge. Your poet will read from 12:15 to 1pm at the Capitol Park Welcome Center, Glass Room on Saturday. 

Bird Forgiveness Book Launch, Louisiana Style

Melinda Palacio

At Octavia Books in New Orleans

The crowd at Octavia Books

With so many choices for fun or relaxing activities during a hot weekday, where the weather in New Orleans threatens to reach a hundred degrees, it's best to do a little homework if you want to guarantee an audience of more than the friends you can count on one hand. Octavia Books, a beautiful, local independent bookstore did their homework, and so did I. Octavia sent weekly announcements to their readers in advance of the book launch and I made sure to give me publisher contacts for local newspaper and radio media for possible publicity before the reading. I was lucky to get a color announcement and write up in the Times-Picayune Nuestro Pueblo column and I had two radio interviews with local station, WWNO and WRBH, the radio for the blind. The result was a standing room only crowd with lots of my different groups coming together Bird Forgiveness book launch. There were Wonder Woman, Poets, Yoga folks, WNBA (Women's National Book Association) members, and lovers of the word, books, and Octavia Books. Bookstore owners Tom Lowenburg and Judith Lafitte have created a gorgeous haven of a bookstore and their events are always filled with plenty of comfortable chairs and wine. During Mardi Gras, I participated in the All Wonder Woman Walking Krewe. I've met some fabulous women in the group including friend, Marti, who is also in the WNBA, and Kay who works for the Baton Rouge newspaper, The Advocate. It's fun how some of my friends belong to overlapping organizations. Thank you to everyone who helped make the New Orleans launch a success. Thanks, again, to Octavia Books. 

My yoga teacher at Wild Lotus brought some fellow students and a friend whom she knew would enjoy my book. It turns out the friend is a regular book browser at Octavia Books; New Orleans is a small town in a big city. At the Wild Lotus Yoga studio, it happens to be Poetry Month. On Wednesday, I was a little late getting to class and I waited until the opening mediation was finished and I was pleasantly surprised to hear my yoga teacher read my poem, The Praying Tree. If I had been on time, she would have asked me to read it, as she did a few weeks ago, but it was really nice hearing her read my poem and interpret it and offer it as a mediation for the day. 

Partial View of Trinity's Organ Pipe.

I was thrilled to have a full house, even world renowned musician and organist at Trinity Episcopal church, Albinas Prizgintas came. One of my favorite activities in New Orleans is listening to the organ pipe concert and walking the labyrinth set up on the altar of the church. If you appreciate music, there's nothing more thrilling than hearing Bach or the Rolling Stones vibrate from the organ pipe throughout the massive church and through one's own body. Albinas plays an eclectic mix of classical, rock, and spiritual songs. Sometimes, I walk the labyrinth, but most of the time, I enjoy a quiet seated meditation. My yoga teacher plays a lot of rock n roll during her class. I've come to appreciate rock n roll as a spiritual practice. Next Tuesday, I will add my poetry to the music of the labyrinth at Trinity Episcopal Church. I don't know how it will all come together, but when Albinas asked if I might read a few poems interspersed between the organ for the labyrinth, I said, 'Yes'. 

Labyrinth at Trinity Episcopal

On Tuesday, there will be an additional stop to the Bird Forgiveness Tour at Trinity Artist Series,
Trinity Episcopal Church at 6pm, 1329 Jackson Avenue, New Orleans, LA 70130.

Next week, the Bird Forgiveness Tour takes me to Cajun-Creole Country, where Louisiana Poet Laureate Emeritus, Darrell Bourque will introduce me (I'm honored to say the least). If you're anywhere near Lafayette next Friday, please come to the Teche Center for the Arts, 210 E. Bridge Street, Breaux Bridge, August 3, 6pm. 

At the end of August, I have the pleasure of returning to the La Palabra poetry series at Avenue 50 Studio, August 26 at 2pm, 131 N. Avenue 50, Highland Park, CA. 

Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans? Sofía Does.

Melinda Palacio

Sofía del Carmen Rodríguez Fernández 

Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans? Although she does not want to dwell on how much she will miss New Orleans, Sofia del Carmen Rodriguez Fernández speaks volumes on the subject.. Sofia has been in New Orleans for a year. Stars aligned when her husband was able to take a year sabbatical from the university of Mexico and she was able to return to the town that has bewitched her ever since she was a young girl. Her family calls the gulf of Mexico home, both the Mexican and U.S. inlets. Her mother is from Cuidad del Carmen in Campeche, and she has an aunt she used to visit in New Orleans, who later moved further south along the gulf of Mexico in Alabama.

            A year ago, one of the first places she revisited was Cafe du Monde. The assault of powdered sugar and hot beignets to her nostrils brought her back to childhood, to the first time she visited her beloved aunt, not realizing that the city of New Orleans would rise from that deep place of love that reminded her of the music-filled streets, the heavy air, the scent of jasmine, and the ever present Mississippi river.

            "Los recuerdos me llegaron de forma inesperada, muy intensos. La música en las calles y la gente bailando, el aroma a jazmín, el río, y esa humedad que sientes que te inunda el rostro, que lo llena todo. De la comida, recordaba especialmente los beginets, así que fui a buscarlos lo más pronto posible. Llegué al Café du Monde, y cuando me llegó su aroma, fué mucho más que un recuerdo, era como volver a nacer, encontrarme con todos los sentidos abiertos y ser yo, más que nunca. Me senté en una mesa donde habían dejado un plato de beginets intacto, aún caliente que yo tenía enfrente de mí. Y fue sentirme tan en casa y tan inesperadamente hambrienta de New Orleans, que antes que llegara la mesera a quitar los platos y tomar nuestra orden, yo había comido esa orden, y ¡pedí otra!"

            In a rare meeting of like minds, I had the pleasure of having lunch with Sofia at the Live Oak Cafe on Oak Street in New Orleans. The cafe is known for their live music and southern food. The place happens to be a favorite of ours. During our conversation, we realized we were both at Live Oak a few days before we met. During our lunch, we were regaled by the music of the multi-talented KatarinaBoudreaux.

Katarina Boudreax at the piano with Reverend Goat singing at Live Oak Cafe

             Sofia is also a painter. She's been a painter and a poet since childhood. For her, everything is a book, from the simple act of opening the refrigerator, to what she eats, to the table in front of her. I admire her passion and zest for life.

          

  In April, the Consulate of Mexico in New Orleans exhibited Sofia's poetry and paintings in a show tiitled, "Abrazada o lo efímero." My first introduction to Sofia's work were the two videos on You Tube. Now I own her first poetry book, Primera Forma, and have seen some of her larger paintings before they are cut from the canvass, rolled up, and shipped to Mexico City, where she and her family will return. As she told me about how hard it is to leave the city she has come to adore, I also felt the bittersweet sting of finding a new friend who will leave the country in a few days. Since my grandmother passed away, I have not had such deep, meaningful, and lively conversations in Spanish. Like Sofia's wish, I too trust that she will return to New Orleans.

            "Es muy duro emocionalmente. Ayer le escribía a un amigo que no podía imaginar lo que sería no despertar en New Orleans. Tengo mucha magia acumulada durante estos meses, espero que me ayude a vivir sin New Orleans, aunque de algún modo, la llevo dentro de mí. No sabía que se podía amar así a una ciudad. Confío en regresar."

Abrazada a lo efímero

 Sofia Rodriguez Fernandez

Mi cuerpo como río,

tejido de agua.

Secreto cauce que aguarda

la llegada de la primavera

para desbordarse

mudar sus orillas

agitar remolinos

inundar árboles.

Corre,

sin nada que perseguir,

busca

emociones por nombrar,

música eterna para varios universos

y su color.

No soy reportera del mundo,

tan sólo de mi epidermis

y los infinitos que la atraviesan.

Tengo ahora más de lo que nunca he tenido:

Mississippi River,

ese brote de inmensidad.

Su humedad me ha besado

brillan mis párpados,

brillan en la luz

que ha logrado filtrarse

por las alas de las libélulas.

¿Cómo podía haber besos antes de este río?

Eclipse lunar

en equinoccio de primavera,

los huevos incubados

y las semillas brotando tibias en el barro.

Duermo en la gran casa que flota en el agua,

el agua que dio forma y peso a los deseos,

que condensó los cristales hasta hacerlos soñar.

Con nubes arriba

y piedras abajo,

todo sucede sin suceder,

lo que amamos es un instante que desaparece.

Cuando despierto por la noche,

sé que hay algo importante

por descifrar,

imagino un colibrí perdido

volando en la bóveda de un alto techo,

su sangre golpeando al eco de esa cúpula.

¿Cuándo llegó ahí? ¿Cómo ayudarlo?

Nuestra vida es difícil de conocer.

Un jardín provisional

en constante mutación,

tierras húmedas donde el agua se detiene

creando un hermoso laberinto

de forma y temperatura perfectas,

para que el estudiado

misterio de la vida

que transita por las hojas sumergidas,

nos encuentre claras y magníficas

en vergonzoso ardor

y desvergonzada intimidad.

Pero aún tengo la noche,

un túnel que me atraviesa,

el paracaídas del cerebro al corazón

y gradualmente,

bocanadas de jazmín.

Siento que he vivido para llegar a este momento.

La lluvia resbala en hilos de plata

el puente cruje bajo mis pies

mientras el río cuida mi cuerpo

más allá de los límites de lo correcto.

Tengo lo necesario

el instinto se obstina en confiar.

Mujeres de agua

Mujeres abrazadas a lo efímero

mujeres que han perdido la razón

mujeres en bandadas de pájaros

mujeres de lo eterno

mujeres de lo sublime

mujeres que creen estar poseídas

porque no encuentran nada ni nadie

que pueda contenerlas.

Un cometa seguía volando en mi cajón

cuando lo cerré de golpe.

El amor nos da siempre

la libertad de fallar.