Photo by Syreeta McFadden   “What’s your Alien Registration number?” – EdAssaulted with poetry! Yes, that’s exactly how I’d like to spend my Sunday afternoon on such a breathtaking day in mid-May. The weather was a consistent warm hug. As a New Yorker, all you can do is talk about the weather on a day like yesterday.. all day! People were just happy to re-introduce their faces and toes to the sun. What a day indeed ..my first ride-along with PUP (Poets in Unexpected Places/Pop Up Poets). I was initially hesitant to join this band of poetic misfits, but knew I’d eventually be one of the pack. Especially after hearing the tales of train and supermarket mayhem from their first two adventures. My passion for poetry gets me in all sorts of predicaments! Samantha, Jon-Ivan, Adam, Ed, Jared, Darian, and Jeanann were my fellow Pop Ups ..as we did just that. Who will be next? What will...

PUP and violinist Janelle X., standing outside after their pop up performance at the annual Hollywood Does Poetry benefit for Bowery Arts & Sciences, our umbrella organization.

Ever since my talk with Khadijah, where she mentioned doing poems in a grocery store, the dream has been relentless. It is a waking dream. It involves me performing my ode to picking blackberries in the produce section. Today the dream came true, and Elana and Akua showed up to star in it, outside of Whole Foods, our next target. Moses, our filmographer was also there, ready to capture these moments, as he did on the trains with us almost a week ago. How were we to do it? And how many poems could we get in before security arrived? We plotted. Weighed the unknowns. But in the end, we headed downstairs not knowing what to expect, much like our unsuspecting audience. And so, as shoppers buzzed past me with their carts and their lists, I pulled out my carton of blackberries and began to recite my poem while eating them–more challenging than I thought. But it felt something like...

From left to right, Samantha , Jon, Ed, Elana, Akua, Adam & Jai. A Magnificent Seven Sunday afternoon found me at Union Square Park in the drizzling rain waiting for poets to show. Ones that promised, ones that didn’t. Ones I had successfully convinced to join me in this venture I’ve been stewing across a string of experiences. Unhingings I like to call them. It started almost 10 years ago in Tallahassee, where I was born into spoken word. I was younger then and much more fearless. With my poetry troupe (BACK TALK!) I used to do poems on the streets of New Orleans and everywhere else we travelled. Keith and I used to perform poetry and hustle our CD’s in barbershops on Fridays (pay day). And more recently: my 40 minute featture at a 7,000 person audience in Prospect Park–99% of them definitely not there for poetry. A needle exchange program in midtown, the...