Melinda Palacio, Santa Barbara Poet Laureate 2023-2025
The Santa Barbara Writers Conference returned after a one year hiatus. Last year, there was a mini-conference that was valiantly upheld by SBWC director Grace Rachow and a handful of workshop leaders who opened their homes to attendees. Many who attended were grateful for the impromptu camaraderie, but also expressed how much they enjoyed the cohesiveness of the conference being in one location. Grace has done an incredible job at keeping the fifty-two year old institution going. The Mar Monte Hotel has become the ideal venue with its larger rooms for panels and speakers and the final banquet, smaller hotel rooms for crafting workshops, and a pool for the cocktail party. This year there were so many smiling faces you would think every hopeful author had received a six-figure book deal. In my twenty-plus years attending the conference, I’ve seen many a drama at the conference for writers. Founder Barnaby Conrad used to tell the story about the an attendee who had packed her bags after only one day at the conference and was terribly upset because she hadn’t found an agent to publish her book. Last week, one of the poets accompanied an attendee who ended up in the Emergency Room with a head wound due to a fall; see her poem splat.
I had a very busy week beginning with Sunday’s registration, where I helped check people in to the conference. As noon approached, I changed into my flamenco costume as the festivities for solstice were not over. Saturday, was the city’s big solstice parade and I marched with the Blue Wave, the city officials, along side councilwoman Kristen Sneddon. Sunday, my solstice fun continued with a flamenco dance performance at Alameda park with Rosal Ortega Flamenco. After the performance, there was no time to linger and thank friends who showed up to see me dance. I had to rush back to the conference in order to be on the Poets Laureate panel, the first panel of the conference. It was nice to see the same friends who were at the park show up to the writers conference panel. Another change this year is that all the panels were free to the public.
Monday, I co-taught my publicity seminar with author Lida Sideris. Tuesday was agents day, where writers signed up to pitch their books to an agent. I spent the entire morning and afternoon helping with agent appointments. In the evening, I read poetry with Paul Willis. I was a little nervous because TC Boyle was in the audience, waiting to hear the evening keynote, Jess Walter. Wednesday and Thursday I facilitated the poetry open mic. The two days of hearing from poets was fun. Poet Laureate Emerita Perie Longo says the open mic is her favorite part of the conference and she did not disappoint. She also had several teaching and judging duties as the conference is made possible by its many volunteers and faculty. I’ve included two diverse voices from last week’s poetry open mic. Friday was the last day of the conference. I was a guest in Perie Longo’s poetry workshop and my last panel was the 4pm Author Platform panel with Lisa Angle, Rachel Sarah Thurston, Stephanie Barbé Hammer, Rick Shaw and moderator Nancy Klann-Moren. I wish everyone who attended the conference or thought about attending, a happy and productive writing season, until next year writers conference friends.
This week’s poetry connection poems come from two poets who live in Santa Barbara and attended the SBWC open mic longtime attendee Toni Bixby and newcomer, Uche Iheanacho.
Let me Count the Ways
For Ned
by Toni Bixby
The first time you came to my house,
you alphabetized the spices,
the next time you rearranged the silverware,
the third time, the rest of the cupboards.
Then the dog beds started disappearing.
So far, the dogs are still here.
I love you more than
fried cheese curds
at the Minnesota State Fair,
crunchy, crispy bites of hot fried Cheddar.
I would rescue you
if Santa Barbara had a 7.0 earthquake,
our house exploded,
an oak tree fell on you,
I had to dig you out.
We are best friends and lovers.
My friends adore you.
If we broke-up, my family would keep you.
Until death do us part, and
our ashes become one with the sea—
or we’re buried in the back yard,
and the dogs dig us up.
Toni Bixby is a Santa Barbara writer, poet and retired lawyer. She has been published in The Santa Barbara Independent, Community of Voices Anthologies, Sage Trail Poetry Magazine, Luna Review and Writing Through The Apocalypse. Her poetry often reflects her current circumstances and her work as an attorney for Child Welfare Services.
Uchechi Iheanacho
Hot, syrupy blood melted down the old woman’s face seeping under her fingernails and
coating sugar spun hair
Her vanilla skin turned strawberry pink
In her haste she’d tripped on rocky road and like a three-tall scoop on a
sweltering summer’s day
went splat
Her cone cracked with a dull thunk
milky fat flesh spilling across sun-baked pavement It took five stitches to piece her back together. If only I didn’t ask her to get ice cream.
Ogbanje
Uchechi Iheanacho
Situated between rhyme and reason,
She was a nightmare of a child.
She knows this,
because her mother told her so.
Ogbanje.
Ogbanje.
on the days she felt most abandoned by god
the child would close her eyes
and send her thoughts to
the medicine man in Igboland
like the axe that cut down the ngwu tree
isi adighi ya mma
the young voice would whip across the canopy
she is mentally unwell
and upon impact the words would burst forth
at the medicine man’s feet
“Dibia, biko, ewela iwe. Nyere m aka.”
Medicine man, please don’t be mad with me. Help me.
Situated between rhyme and reason,
She was a nightmare of a child.
She knows this,
because her mother told her so.
Ogbanje.
Ogbanje.
Uchechi Iheanacho is a Nigerian-American poet and artist based in Santa Barbara, California. A daughter of two Nigerian immigrants, her poetry often explores themes of culture and identity. When she isn’t crafting, Uchechi can probably be found dancing in her living room or making new friends around town. This is her first publication. Her poem splat was written after attending her first Santa Barbara Writers Conference in 2026.
*an earlier version of this column was published in the Independent
