ON HOPE:

went to a reading at bombora gallery last night. 20 or so poets and musicians gathered in a cozy basement room in chelsea, with a wood burning stove. chris stackhouse put the event together and it was one of the few gatherings i have been to in ny where people from different races mixed and listened to each other harmoniously, were interested in each other's experiences. sitting there on a wood pallet, listening to some of the most amazing talent in ny, i realized that what we were doing: speaking out, the act of reading and writing and speaking our minds, could be considered subversive very soon, the way this country is going with it's erosion of civil rights in the name of fighting terrorism. but for last night, i just reveled and relaxed in the deep, rich sustenance of freedom of expression. and remembered and tasted one of the most quintessential american things we possess, that right to read haikus about president bush, to sing about being yourself, to hear the interior lives of others--without being afraid of repercussion. truly a great thing.