This is the official blog of Northern Arizona slam poet Christopher Fox Graham. Begun in 2002, and transferred to blogspot in 2006, FoxTheBlog has recorded more than 670,000 hits since 2009. This blog cover's Graham's poetry, the Arizona poetry slam community and offers tips for slam poets from sources around the Internet. Read CFG's full biography here. Looking for just that one poem? You know the one ... click here to find it.
like the first time you set eyes on the first love of your life
as they were just walking down the street
put me in the distance
where you can riddle rumors out about my existence
like maybe the mighty Mike McGee will say
"I heard that Danny was kidnapped
by a renegade Amazon tribe in the Amazon
and they took him under their wing
so now his blowgun skills
phhhhhhhhhhhhhhhwop!
are impeccable"
See when I'm in the distance myth-making it ain't gonna be my job anymore
it'll be yours
and I think it would be just what the doctor ordered
if I was in the distance so long
that there was a band of Danny impersonators
running the streets of Providence
like quicksand horses
that everyone's eyes could just sort of sink into
and I feel it like our hearts are all in the distance
pumping vision into our blood and blood back into our vision
distance is being able to see things from the inside out
distance is where the future grows
distance puts the marrow in tomorrow
distance is what I want to eat for breakfast
it's the bullseye tattooed the inside of my solar plexus
and only the sunset can pierce it
so CR when I'm gone
I'll be gone
my back would be turned
by the time y'all's arrows are drawn
the distance that I'm all wrapped up in
will put the potential energy in your quiver
distance is the backbone in my swagger
and the twang in my stupid honesty
see without the distance my gunslingers wrists
hang lifeless with arthritis at my sides
and gypsy of my lips forgets how to kiss the sky
without the distance
some nights I grind my wisdom teeth into a fine powder
and I lace my cigarette other nights
I use it
to fill the empty hour glasses
I put them in the world
where things always get turned upside down
to feel like I have more time
I do headstands
on escalators
I'll hit my spirit with the reflex hammer
just to see if its knee jerks
I get used to the different-day same T-shirt
I'll play with symbols and reverse and reverse till I bleed earth
listen, these words are patchwork nothing
I left my patchworks right between West 4th and Bleecker
so now I band up the box
of the past
with a blindfold on
I'll keep tomorrow a breath away
and break dawn like an egg across the home of your hate
because distance
is a dynamite psycho static patchwork matchstick stuck on motion
and I'm a riverstone explosion
a chiseled whisperin' echo crumbling in on itself
a clover grown its fourth leaf
check your kinetics
check my kinetics
striking lightning off the Braille of our pulse
put me in the distance and I will go
I will go to the pawn shop at the end of the universe
where the pawn shop owner
keeps his beard in check
with that razor blade you may have traded in for a second chance
and he'll look at me
from behind those elusive crossed arms
and that wayward smile
that pawn shop owners often have
and I'll just take a look around
I'll see the angel wings slung up on the walls
and all of our old dreams
bottled in jars on shelves
that slant for the weight
until I realized that this
is as far as I can go
I'll move the distance out of the way
walk up to that pawn shop owner and say:
"listen, I've got a great story
it's about a spirit
trying to find his way
back to his bones
and I'm willing to trade it in
just so long as you can give me directions
on how to get back home"
Danny Sherrard wows the crowd at the Applesauce Teahouse in Flagstaff in November 2007
Born in Seattle, Washington on August 29, 1985, Sherrand he won the Individual National Poetry Slam competition in 2007, becoming the youngest competitor at that time to win such a title. In 2008 Sherrard won France's Poetry World Cup where he competed against national champions from 15 countries.
Sherrard was on the Seattle poetry slam teams in 2007 and 2008 and the 2009 HawaiiSlam team.
At the beginning of 2009 Danny Sherrard toured with the spoken word group The Spilljoy Ensemble composed of himself, Jon Sands, Shira Erlichman and Ken Arkind.
Sherrard's first book, "Cast Your Eyes like River Stones into the Exquisite Dark," was released in 2009 through Write Bloody Publishing.
you see I’ve got a problem
I’m addicted to that one thing
that everything that true thing
every moment I’m looking for another fix
wandering from here to there
trying to get just one more hit
you see I'm addicted to humanity
it’s just this power that overwhelms
this power that draws me in
I don’t know what it is
I can’t escape
humanity has me addicted
every time I kiss a girl
talk to a friend
hear the story of a stranger
I get just that much more addicted
and it’s just that much harder to break myself away
when a 75-year-old black man
tells me how he earned a vicious scar on his face
from a near-lynching in 1952
just outside Birmingham, Alabama
I get more addicted
his story
that human story
draws me in
when a mother of two
tells me what it was like
to explain her boys
that daddy is never coming home again
because semi-trucks don’t leave survivors
I get more addicted
her story
that human story
draws me in
when an elderly Jewish matriarch
tells me what was like
to grow up in a Polish concentration camp
to see her family get shot
then rolls up her sleeve to reveal a tattoo of
4
7
3
2
8
carved in the flesh
of her forearm
her story draws me
in every gesture
every feature
every wrinkle crease earned through survival
draws me in
like a moth to a flame,
like a comet to a star
I can’t escape
I tried once
I tried to withdraw once
ever gone through human withdrawal?
I left the world for a day
and it almost killed me
I couldn’t function
I couldn’t act
I couldn’t breathe
I couldn’t walk
I couldn’t talk
do you know what it’s like
for a poet who cannot talk?
a poet who cannot talk
who cannot write
is dead
I had to come back
my addiction keeps me alive
do you know how easy is to get this stuff?
they don’t even sell it
they give it away
I can’t round a corner without getting another hit
and it’s killing me
if I could break his addiction
I could live forever
but what would my life be like without my humanity?
they say we’re all made to die, does that mean we’re all addicted?
are you?
are you?
are you?
I am
I my love my addiction
I want to experience the stories of everyone
because what differs us is just time and space
I want to know what other possibilities my soul had
before it chose this time
this space
this body to occupy
I want to know
I want more and more
I want to do the lines of every human face
I want to walk the features
memorize the names
live the stories that of every human who ever lived and I still want more
I want to feast with Gilgamesh
I want to besiege Troy
I want to drink with Alexander
I want to walk the halls of Camelot
I want to meditate with Buddha
I want to pray with Mohammed
I want to burn with Joan of Arc
I want to ride with Crazy Horse
I want to stand in the streets of Hiroshima with 140,000 other human beings
and feel the skies turn instantly
into the wrath of God
and want to sacrifice myself on Calvary
and become your Messiah
because God
if there is one
was just the first addict
I love being addicted
even if it’s going to kill me
I ask for more
I beg for more
I would sell my soul for more
but what makes this addiction my curse
is that I’m just one man
and I don’t have much time
I guess I never posted this poem online before. Originally just a solo poem, I performed with Nick Fox and Chris Lane as a three-man group poem at the 2001 National Poetry Slam in Seattle.