So often on a bike ride, my obsession with numbers, the miles traveled, the speed, the time, keep my eyes on my monitor. Today was one of those days when folly is a mirror. Today was the first big ride for me, and my route was ambitious. Over 2,000 ft elevation gain in the last 2 miles. I checked the wind, and I knew there would be plenty.

Didn’t figure 17mph headwind, and gusts over 27mph. Didn’t figure 38 degrees. The force of the wind was too much for my speed of 3.7mph up the steepest parts of the hill. Physics ruled, and my bike stopped. Around a switchback, on my one earbud I heard Destiny’s Child sing, “I’m a survivor.” It cheered me up, and I was gaining speed until I switched back, perpendicular to the wind, and the wind almost knocked me off the pavement. Without guard rails, the wind might have knocked me off the mountain. So, I walked and rode and cursed and made it to the summit.

What triumph I had today over numbers and numbness is folly compared with what the young people in the video accomplished every day. In their teenage years, they are better poets than I ever will be. Their metaphors punch. Their grasp of history and popular culture and their family layers their performances with truth; they turn truth into minor chords. The audience feels the truth in the chest.

Once I had the good fortune of interviewing David Wagoner, a poet-god whose poems turn birds into  songs. We talked about the new medium of slam, and he acknowledge that slam poetry gave rise to underrepresented voices. But he feared that the poems were not lasting because of the reliance on sound alone. The interview was twenty years ago, and he hadn’t heard:

Adam Gottleib, Breathe Now or Maxwell Street
Nova Venerable, Cody
Lamar Jorden, Shooter

Their poems have pitch perfect sound, depth, the staying power of words that cut, that open up holes in the listener. What I’m saying is that there are tests worth taking, on stage, on paper, on a bike. Writing has an edge, and the edge is what helps move experience, move culture, make judgments like Wagoner’s moot. Louder than a Bomb is a movement.

Do we have the movement in Portland? We have Verselandia, in its second year. Want to hear what’s raw and sweet and so loud it breaks? Let’s all go, and then, we’ll know to forget numbers, to look up at a summit, to honor poetry more than points.

In the Q & A portion of the Brave on the Page reading at Powell’s in early January, someone asked if a writer should join a group. One audience member felt writing groups were a waist of time. Some are. Some break poems over their knees for the sheer pleasure of breaking. Some whitewash the pain out of stories. But then, there’s the one or two that fit, like cashmere sweaters just the right size. They’re hard to find. They’re hard to create.

Here’s a profile of one of the groups that tastes like sweet corn soup on a February day:

–the Dangerous Writers in Portland began with a few charismatic leaders, bent on bending rules, indoctrinating eager, vulnerable writers with a new vocabulary and new rules.

–the members were ferociously dedicated, meeting each week, and making sacrifices to be there (some folks spent so much time writing to make the weekly page count that they didn’t eat enough, didn’t meet daily obligations.)

–the responses in the group to writing were stars drawn over words doing their work, spicy and seductive, with discussion of the “bumps,” so gently put and so honest that the writer felt powerful enough to gather feedback, to ignore feedback, and to keep rolling down the lane with feedback as a bumper.

–the group socialized outside of writing time, with invitations sent to everyone in the group.

–to change things up, there were annual parties and annual writing challenges.

–sporadically, news of publications and honors went out, with each person published willing to share his/her connections or queries or websites or process.

–people showed up, for each other, for readings and weddings and hospital visits.

–resources like agents and web skills and toboggans were shared.

–rules about how to write fiction (first person, personal, etc.) that the group started with changed as the group opened up and changed tables and grew, and the writing opened up and grew.

And what’s grown is a community, one connected by email and Evite and fireworks in Estacada. We don’t all write together around the same tables. We don’t write the same things. We don’t live in the same place. Even someone who has moved to San Francisco, who has just received news that he has lymphoma, can reach out and ask the dangerous writing community for book recommendations, can ask for laughter and for a 57-word flash fiction piece that includes a word from his chemo regimen. And he will get books and writing and love. It’s that kind of group. It’s that kind of love.

If you haven’t been to a Stafford reading, you should go. What happens is that 3-4 people get up and read one of his and one of theirs, often in response to his, and then, the audience is invited to read one of his. Oh, the poems are gentle and accessible and poignant. What happens is that everyone in the room realizes he or she is a poet, he or she is gifted with the ability to set down in words some impression, some insight, some flash. Everyone is able and invited to write.

Here is a list of all the readings in the metro area. Click HERE.

I’d like to invite you to two of them in which I am involved:

Wednesday, January 16, 6 to 8pm
Clackamas Community College
19600 Molalla Ave.
Oregon City, OR 97040
Roger Rook Hall 220

and

Sunday, January 27th, 1:30 pm,
Molalla Public Library, 201 E. 5th St., Molalla, Oregon.
Hosted: by Larry Anderson and Kate Gray. Sponsored by the Molalla Writers Group.
Featuring: Larry Anderson, Brian Biggs, Maureen Cole, Kate Gray, Carol Hausholder, Steve Slemenda, and Esther Wood, who will read Stafford and Stafford-related poems followed by reader/audience discussion of his work, life, stories, anything else of pertinence. Guests are warmly invited to read their own work and/or related poems. Those not interested in reading poems may sit back and enjoy! The film, “Traveling in the Dark” will be shown, with a short discussion to follow.
Contact: Kate Gray. 

Stafford invites everyone to write. I do, too.