Remembering Danny Solis

Danny Solis was my first slam hero, a powerhouse of the Southwestern slam scenes. His poetry was awesome to behold. 

We bouted numerous times at Southwest Shootout, he sincerely complimented how I managed NPS bouts in Chicago and we slammed beers and spit poetry over his gloriously oversized bonfires in Albuquerque. Danny's group poems were legendary and he made ABQ the model for how to bring group poems to NPS. 

Slam poets nationally are sharing their stories of fights and fallouts, forgivenesses and friendships with Danny. He was tough and tough to love for many, stubborn and bold, instumental, influencial and unforgettable. If Danny was in the room, everyone knew it. 

At the National Poetry Slam in Seattle in 2001, I remember Danny Solis and Taylor Mali, two giants in slam and idols I had watched on DVDs before going to nationals, argue at the Slam Family meeting about a rule in the slam rulebook. There was a question whether a team had broken it or the spirit of the rule. Both were making good points in between other speakers. Then PSi President Mike Henry called on Bowerbird, who had his hand up for the longest time and was roughly between them along the back wall.

Bowerbird said, "I'm just happy to be here with all you poets." Danny and Taylor had the biggest laughs and it shattered the tension. I realized that even in disagreement, we slam poets argue because we want slam to be as fair as we can make it so everyone enjoys the stage.

One slammaster described to one of our rookies poets as half-Chicano, half-Klingon with his dreadlocks and bandana. He'd argue with you, slam with you and drink with you after.

We always had a good friendship. He always had a kind word in person or a sweet comment about my kids online. He enjoyed seeing me appear in ABQ or at NPS and I did him. Our slam scenes in Arizona and New Mexico have always been cultural and spiritual cousins; we were the same territory once after all. 

We modeled our budding Flagstaff Poetry Slam in 2001 on how he ran Albuquerque: full of support, respect and love for our poets, especially our newbies.

We are his echoes.

ROCHESTER — Danny Solis once wrote that “the body swims in the lake of the soul.”

Solis, a poet, artist, activist and father who helped marginalized and young artists find their voice died suddenly in his sleep Thursday [April 6].

Solis arrived in Rochester from Albuquerque, New Mexico, nearly 10 years ago to a snowstorm in May. He said in a 2016 interview it was the first time in his memory he didn’t go out for Cinco de Mayo.

Nonetheless, Solis remained in Rochester and shared his talent as a slam poet and his love of other creatives to encourage and amplify artists in his adopted community.

Solis was a champion slam poet, established an annual Day of the Dead celebration and received multiple awards for his contributions to the community including the 2020 Mayor’s Medal for artistic and cultural achievement.

His death while traveling to New York to speak and perform at a poetry event has shocked the local art community. However, artists who credit him with helping them find their voice, say his contributions will live on in the voices he helped amplify.

“Danny convened us into family, convened us into this rag-tag community of artists,” said Nicole Nfonoyim-Hara, an honored fiction author and writer who met Solis when she moved to Rochester about seven years ago.

“To watch him get youth to step into their own power was amazing,” Nfonoyim-Hara added. “He cultivated this safe, fertile ground particularly for marginalized youth.”

Nfonoyim-Hara took a writing workshop from Solis when she first moved to Rochester and immediately took to him, his writing and his advice, she said.

McKay Bram worked with Solis in curating events. His ability to perform poetry live paired with her art of improvised dance and artistic movement, she said.

“It was great to work with someone who had such faith in what I was doing because I don’t always have faith in what I’m doing,” Bram said.

Sometimes Solis’ words and music would inspire her movement which would in turn inspire him more.

“When we first talked, it felt like we’d known each other even though we’d just met,” Bram said.

That was a common reaction from people who met him, said Andrea Zoss, Solis’ ex-wife and mother of their son, Teagan.

“He was not afraid to talk to anyone,” Zoss said. “I can’t make my dad laugh, but Danny, this guy in a bandana dating his daughter, could make my dad laugh.

The two enjoyed spending time watching animals at the Albuquerque Zoo before they moved to Minnesota, she said.

It wasn’t in a salesman-like way, but an honest curiosity that drew Solis to other people, she added. Solis loved children and animals — especially dogs. It was a trait that took some getting used to.

“He had brilliant, nuanced thoughts about art, life and science but he would also point out, ‘Hey look at that doggo,’” she said. “Even if we were in deep conversation, if he saw a dog, he would interrupt and say, ‘Look, a dog.’”

Pointing out a dog would be about the only time Solis would appreciate being interrupted in a conversation, Zoss added.

That was just one side to a complex man, she added. Describing him is difficult, she said.

“It’s like showing you a grain of sand and saying this is a beach, you just have to imagine a lot more of these,” Zoss said.

A Go Fund Me has been set up to help with a memorial for Solis.