A poem by Trixi Rosa
i don’t know
why all the layers
find me dust
feel me rust
skin and shiver
i don’t know
why all the layers
find me dust
feel me rust
skin and shiver
About me: Nia Mora is a Harlem based poet and writer. she’s come undone is Nia’s debut poetry collection. Nia holds an MA in Creative Writing but credits her 8th grade English teacher, David Ivesoli and high school creative writing teacher, Francine Witte for turning her into a professional. In addition to birthing books, Nia is the mother of two girls and the wife of one husband.
About my writing: My body of work is much like the city I come from good vibes that intersect with breaks, sharp turns, yet there is a softness to it like the sun setting over the Hudson. There are rises and falls like the hills of Harlem. I write about what I feel and the things that need to heal in me and in you.
#GenreFam: I learned about Genre on Instagram just seeing a post someone shared and then I started following Genre. I submitted and now I’m here!
I decided I wanted to be a writer at four. Fell in love with poetry after reading a June Jordan poem, “Alla Thas’ All Right” so much so that I never returned the anthology– it was featured in the library. Fast Forward to me writing poetry throughout high school and college, doing readings, hosting shows, and all of that and then I stopped. I just stopped for 10 years and returned again April of 2018. Now my debut collection of poetry, she’s come undone is about to be released and I’m in Genre (yay).
I am most excited about performing in the historic Bowery Poetry Club. Back in high school, I wrote a poem that a friend of mine still talks about and performing at a place like the Bowery, so I would be living a dream I wrote down for myself 20 years ago. I am happy that despite the fact I abandoned my dream it never abandoned me.
Genre: Urban Arts will be at Bowery Poetry in NYC October 28th, 2018, 6- 7:30 pm. We will have spoken-word, live music, and other performance arts. Click the button to purchase tickets.
My True Colors Festival in association with Harlem 2020 present Grace Jones: Bloodlight and Bami. This electrifying journey through the public and private worlds of mega-icon Grace Jones contrasts musical sequences with intimate personal footage. Sophie Fiennes’s documentary goes beyond the traditional music biography, offering a portrait as stylish and unconventional as the larger-than-life, androgynous glam-pop culture diva.
Join us for a pre-screening Cocktail Hour plus a post-screening Book Signing and Panel Discussion: “The Power of Black Style On Fashion and Culture Worldwide” with industry experts, including Essence Editor-At-Large Mikki Taylor, Fashion Bomb Daily Founder and leading style blogger Claire Sulmers, legendary black supermodel Pat Cleveland, and Christian Ruart, a renown fashion guru and celebrity stylist who discovered and worked with models like Tyra Banks, Tyson Beckford, Naomi Campbell, and Claudia Schiffer. Join us for an insightful conversation led by My True Colors Co-Founder and Executive Producer Tai Chunn on the ins and outs of black style, its important contribution to fashion and its influence on culture worldwide. The panel also will discuss the industry influence of Grace Jones. While Beyoncé and Rihanna are among today’s major style icons, Grace Jones remains one of the most referenced fashion icons of all time.
Mikki Taylor will be on hand to sign her book, Editor in Chic: How to Style and Be Your Most Empowered Self, shares uplifting advice for women who want to cultivate their beauty both inside and out. As will Claire Sulmers, whose book The Bomb Life: My Brand. My Terms, is part memoir, part self-help with tips for aspiring bloggers;
and Pat Cleveland, whose memoir Walking With The Muses covers fifty years of fashion from the intersection of the Civil Rights Movement, the disco era’s decadence, and the grandeur of Hollywood’s late 70s renaissance
Film Running Time: 116 Minutes
Cocktail Hour begins at 6:00pm in the Media Gallery;
Film Screening starts 7:00pm in the Screening Room
The easiest way to break
silence is with sirens.
Lights cutting through blackness
like bullets exiting guns.
That slow, cocked reflex.
That quick draw. That lack
of regret. That dawn rising,
masking any sense of mourning.
Contributorship with Genre: Urban Arts provides creatives with a platform to publish art digitally and in print.
Well, Oscar Sanders’ traveling political social justice spoken word play Exposing Politics: A Play of Acts Tour, is a New York Foundation for the Arts Fiscally Sponsored project that seeks donations and contributions to provide free theater to economically disadvantaged children and youth at college venues. Click the button to make a generous donation to our effort to put smiles on faces that haven’t experienced the joy of theater:
I am painting the door
to the garden
and I am reading
Orizaba Blues beneath
The Buddha fountain
Always in your room
Bringing other things to life.
Don’t bother to groom,
The only thing you sculpt is your mind.
You sound like a painter,
But you look like a dreamer in bonds.
I’m watching the mountains from
the back of my skull
while Dan the German Tourist
buries his nose in the magazine left behind the train seat.
It is not important
to remember me
I will not be immortalized
As every god should be
and placed aside
With such care
that I exist
in some way
Who was I to you
And the universe
Scraping and rubbing
On colophon corner and verso
Dedication corner and verso
Creaking forest growth
Tress groaning under the pressure
Of the other
Big Mike stood in the street,
Looking for shade from the heat,
Gazing at the landscape.
People yelling, cop cars, a man in the street.
Concerned about the temperature, my thoughts turned to me.
God talked to Moses about rolling
Mud dolls to life through the burning
Bush of a smoking-hot redhead.
Fire, volcanic mixing Darwin stirring
Soup, meat stock brew boiling minerals
From soil into fish into monkey into me.
Both too stubborn in belief to see
creation, evolution have more than similarities.
Yo reaction to my hair
is my reaction to my strife.
How big it got is like the bigots
constant in my life.
How do you tell her she’s too loud when you’ve silenced her for Centuries?
Too strong, when she has to work light years ahead of you just to catch up?
Too violent, with your scars etched Into her back?
Too dark, when your spirit is composed of ashes from her ancestors?
Too wild. Too real. Too raw.
That must be why you can only rise if she falls.
h e a v y
atop your anxiety
like i can keep
with the weight
of my body
Master Potter, have you come to knead?
To impress upon me your vision?
To shape and to mold?
Impart to me your wisdom, Master Potter.
I will not reject your steady hand.
I have never seen a cherry tree
And yet I find them romantic.
Going down to them,
(or so I imagine.
Again, I know little of cherry trees.)
I’d like you to take a bath
In my mind.
I’ll gather up buckets of rainwater.
Warm them on the stove.
Fill a clawfoot tub to the brink.
It’s about to pour down
rivers of rain
I don’t care. Continue reading Miles to go