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.
Ed Mabrey is a two-time Haiku National Slam Champion and 2007-2008 Individual World Poetry Slam Champion. He has been a member of and coached several winning Rust Belt Regional Poetry Slam Teams out of Columbus, Ohio. Mabrey has released two books, "From the Page to the Stage and Back Again" to critical acclaim and "Revoked:My GhettoPass(ivity)" which was a limited release item.Maybrey has released two CDs of his own work, and has been on projects with other artists and DJs.
Ryan Brown is a kid from Phoenix who spends most of his time posing as a writer and poet. He now goes to school and lives in Flagstaff, where he is the SlamMaster of the FlagSlam Poetry Slam. Ryan Brown represented the Flagstaff Nationals Team at the National Poetry Slam.
Sedona Poetry Slam, Round #3, Poet #1, July 17, 2009.
For the past two weekends, my friend Nika Levikov has trekked down the hill from Flagstaff to Sedona for poetry events. She read a few poems at the GumptionFest IV pre-party at Ken's Creekside, then read the Cabaret Tent at GumptionFest IV Day One on Saturday.
This last weekend, she came down to keep score at the Sept. 11 slam I hosted at Studio Live.
We hiked to Devil's Bridge the next day.
Among the components of our friendship is critiquing each other's poetry. My favorite slam poem of hers is the identity poem "My Country," which I was glad she performed at both GumptionFest and as a calibration poem at the July 17 slam.
My Country By Nika Levikov
Babushka likes to tell me about communism the days when Ukraine was Russia. The Soviet Union, a name that has prevented me from understanding who I really am. Who I really am? and sometimes I fear that stories are the only things left to give me an insight. Papa would always tell me how he dreamed of leaving. life was rough and somewhere out there America, was an easier path and that was really all he said, his words flowed from his mouth like Matryoshka dolls, never opened and the layers upon layers of stories he chose not to speak of. And here I am, sitting in front of these faces trying to explain why I must go there.
Dedushka laughs, aside from my youth he says, there is an identity that stays with you before any Russian label. And they aren’t ready for you yet. They aren’t ready for you Jew. They can see it in your face, it’s written in your hair and can’t you see how the letters are bolded across your jawline? Jew, and they will hate you for it.
But I’m wondering how long can you hide me from the ignorance of other’s. How long papa, will you shelter me from the judgment that has slept under your very pillow since the day you learned the meaning? And can’t you see, mama I’m not afraid anymore. my only fear is never getting the chance to understand, to see you streets where I am certain the sun still casts your shadow.
I want to go there and feel your sweat, papa that leaked from your hands as you stood in line for days, waiting for your freedom.
I have heard other stories and I am convinced that my eyes will burn from shattered hearts still hanging on windowsills and my ears will scream, from the sound of tattered orange flags still flapping from the signs that say “welcome”. but I am also convinced, that beauty thrives here still, in the language whose voice cascaded over every Russian text, in the dance that has always broken free from Russian song.
mother, I come for you and I do not forget you. my family, born from you my traditions, my tongue awakened by your distant breathes.
I want to see you. I want to sleep in your skin till the culture of my ancestors becomes the air I’m breathing. in you, rests a side of my family I have never known and please, let me get on my knees, bury my hands in their soil and say “esvenee, esvenee mena” sorry, for not having come sooner.
mother, I may not have been raised under your skies, but I don’t think it’s too late to start learning. to learn about your language, your song, your food, and your independence. I know that you will accept me regardless of the blood that flows with rituals of a different kind. you have always been a part of me. so I guess this isn’t an act of rebellion against my family, this isn’t for the justification that I am who I am, I say to the world, to my family, this, is for my country.
Son of a nightclub singer, Kingman slam poet Mikel Weisser. spent his teens as a hitchhiker. Since then Weisser has gone on to receive a masters in literature and a masters in secondary education, published hundreds of freelance magazine and newspaper articles and political comedy columns, along with seven books of poetry and short fiction. A former homeless shelter administrator, contestant on "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire," and survivor of his first wife's suicide, Weisser teaches junior high history and English in Bullhead City. He and his wife, Beth, have turned their So-Hi, Ariz., property into a peace sign theme park. Sedona Poetry Slam, Round #2, Poet #11, July 17, 2009.
This poem was my particular favorite at this slam because of its lyricism, because it captures our seemingly futile despiration to halt genocide despite seeing it and because my mother was in the audience. I almost imagined he was writing it about her because she sometimes still scares the bejeezus out of me.
Ed Mabrey is a two-time Haiku National Slam Champion and 2007-2008 Individual World Poetry Slam Champion. He has been a member of and coached several winning Rust Belt Regional Poetry Slam Teams out of Columbus, Ohio. Mabrey has released two books, "From the Page to the Stage and Back Again" to critical acclaim and "Revoked:My GhettoPass(ivity)" which was a limited release item.Maybrey has released two CDs of his own work, and has been on projects with other artists and DJs.
Gary Every's career has followed many diverse paths including geology exploration, carpenter, chef, piano player, punk rocker, dishwasher, photographer, mountain bike instructor, soccer coach, bonfire storyteller and just a general bad example to society as a whole.
It is perhaps as an author that Mr. Every has gained the most fame. Published nearly a thousand times, he has four books to his credit and more on the way.
Sedona Poetry Slam, Round #2, Poet #8, July 17, 2009.
Frank O'Brien is a 20-year-old student at Coconino Community College, focusing in the general studies and pre-nursing. Originally from Phoenix, O'Brien entered the slam poetry scene in fall 2007. He traveled to Madison, Wis., in 2008 and to Orlando, Fla., in 2009 as a member of the Flagstaff National Slam Team. O'Brien is now an active poet and administrator of the FlagSlam Poetry Slam in Flagstaff. Sedona Poetry Slam, Round #2, Poet #7.
Wendy Davis is Creative Director of W-Fun TV, a certified yoga instructor and vocal coach in Sedona. Sedona Poetry Slam, Round #2, Poet #6, July 17, 2009
Norberto "Bert" Cisneros is a Cottonwood poet and jazz trumpet player. He has slammed in Sedona and FlagSlam and regularly reads at the Sedona Poetry Open Mic.
Ryan Brown is a kid from Phoenix who spends most of his time posing as a writer and poet. He now goes to school and lives in Flagstaff, where he is the SlamMaster of the FlagSlam Poetry Slam. Ryan Brown represented the Flagstaff Nationals Team at the National Poetry Slam.
Sedona Poetry Slam, Round #2, Poet #4, July 17, 2009.
We Call Him Papa for Frank Leslie "Buster" Redfield May 14, 1925 - Oct. 31, 2004
we call him Papa and he could move mountains with his silence
he fathered a family of artists who knew the value of labor the efficiency of expression if it is unclear, rephrase it if it is unusable, remove it if it is imperfect, rework it until it is as much a part of you as a limb he never said this but his life implied it
his stone eyes edited lies from our speech before we could speak them his hands held me tight once after I sinned they held me soft when my father translated himself into a mythology I've since ceased believing in his hands were the tools with which he spoke through his silence
he carved and crafted rifles like Stradivarius made violins and the first recoil was a symphony compressed to a split second he brought wood to life as though generations of forests grew to make the right grain the right feel worthy of his talent
he did not build airplanes, he built aircraft with the precision of a heart surgeon knowing a loose screw, one misaligned wire could transform a craft of beauty into a coffin and wife like his into a widow he made no widows except one
he crafted art that soared like mechanical angels and made us feel how he must have felt with Grandma
even in his absence he scares me because he was so much more of what a man should be than the men I see around me than the man who fathered me
he was sometimes the machine moving me he was sometimes the monster under my bed keeping me from going gently into the night without fighting the darkness he was sometimes a giant stretching hands from horizon to horizon holding down the sun and moon and dictating their rising
I am convinced that eastern Montana is so perfectly flat in awe of him
we call him Papa and he could move mountains with his silence
I never heard him say he loved her not in words not in a way I could steal not in a way that the cheap poet in me could have plagiarized into a stanza for some mediocre poem unworthy of his memory
I never heard him say he loved her with words
he said it with his eyes
he said it in the stories my mother would tell me about how he would raise armies and wage wars just to bring her flowers
he said it with the way he told me about driving across New York and Pennsylvania every weekend just to see her for two hours between college classes and curfews
he said he loved her by playing "waltzing matilda" on a harmonica like he was asking her to dance for the first time, even after all these years
he said he loved her by showing us how good man should love a woman right
we call him Papa and he could move mountains with his silence
he is the poet me, his eldest grandson, I am just his microphone
Antranormus is a hip-hop artist who constantly seeks to redefine or blur completely the boundaries between hip-hop, poetry and absolute absurdity. Known for his complex, multisyllabic rhyme schemes and controversial subject matter, he has shared the stage with members of the Wu Tang Clan, Jurassic 5, Abstract Rude, Illogic, and Sole.
Sedona Poetry Slam, Round #1, Poet #10, July 17, 2009
Ryan Brown is a kid from Phoenix who spends most of his time posing as a writer and poet. He now goes to school and lives in Flagstaff, where he is the SlamMaster of the FlagSlam Poetry Slam. Ryan Brown represented the Flagstaff Nationals Team at the National Poetry Slam.
Sedona Poetry Slam, Round #1, Poet #8, July 17, 2009.
Norberto "Bert" Cisneros is a Cottonwood poet and jazz trumpet player. He has slammed in Sedona and FlagSlam and regularly reads at the Sedona Poetry Open Mic.
Frank O'Brien is a 20-year-old student at Coconino Community College, focusing in the general studies and pre-nursing. Originally from Phoenix, O'Brien entered the slam poetry scene in fall 2007. He traveled to Madison, Wis., in 2008 and to Orlando, Fla., in 2009 as a member of the Flagstaff National Slam Team. O'Brien is now an active poet and administrator of the FlagSlam Poetry Slam in Flagstaff. Sedona Poetry Slam, Round #1, Poet #5.
Gary Every's career has followed many diverse paths including geology exploration, carpenter, chef, piano player, punk rocker, dishwasher, photographer, mountain bike instructor, soccer coach, bonfire storyteller and just a general bad example to society as a whole.
It is perhaps as an author that Mr. Every has gained the most fame. Published nearly a thousand times, he has four books to his credit and more on the way.
Sedona Poetry Slam, Round #1, Poet #4, July 17, 2009.
Ed Mabrey is a two-time Haiku National Slam Champion and 2007-2008 Individual World Poetry Slam Champion.
