Check me out on La Palabra!

This month, I will be featured on the web site La Palabra, which is a female writer's collective that highlights women doing incredible things. At the link you will find a video performance and two written poems, including one that was originally submitted as a cover letter (that liked it so much, they wanted it as a poem!) So take a look!

And while you're there, click around and check out the other women featured on their site. It's worth it. :)

the Tuesday I announced my tour

the cop sits in the middle of the street
I see her, but don't flinch
I wonder if she will bullseye the target on my car

in surburbia
the cops always follow a little too close
their grills smile "you will how high when I JUMP!"
but they pass

here
where the rich, middle and priviledged tightrope the edge of my neighborhood enough
for coffee and books
the cops play target practice

I am less than a mile from home and the cop
stops me before I can cross the light
there is no fear
her routine is familiar and so is mine
for me
I turn off my music cause you dare not sully the sweetness of this CD

I wonder if the woman under the uniform
chose cop over civilian to escape herself
her past
if she thinks the control she gained tastes better than
the misery she watches from the barrel of her cop car

she returns and tries to chastise a little girl into me
why are you driving?
the bus runs everywhere
correction: the bus runs everywhere you want me to be
ahem, I don't have money
you had money for gas
I don't have gas, look, see

her stance hardens
I realize to her
I am not a flying skeet-shooter plate on the descent
I am a carnival game
one duck in an endless row of targets she'll shoot over the side
I stop talking
wonder when she put a finger on the lid of the pot crabs can't push ajar
there's silence
I visibly agitate her cause
I'm not 'yes ma'am, thank you ma'am' her reprieve of not taking me to jail
the consolation prize of two tickets and a long goodbye to my car

ok
for her apathy I make her wait
take
every valuable to stuff in my bag
whisper blessings and prayers to the woman who got me this far
my car is just another girlfriend I didn't let go soon enough
I am only down
at the prospect of duck-walking my way home
slewfoot and shouldering a bag now double in weight

can someone take me home? I've got a bad knee.
you said you live close, right? you'll make it.

I'm going on tour! (revised)

Ok. So. Big news. *deep breath*

I'm going on tour!

It's my first one, and although it's a short one, I'm still super excited! In October, I'll be in:

Houston, TX - Super Happy Fun Land for Odd Thursdays October 3rd
Dallas, TX - Dallas Black Pride's "The Movement" event October 4th
Oklahoma City, OK - Saturday Afternoon Live! at the Paramount, OKC October 5th
Oklahoma City, OK - Open Mic Night at the Hubbly Bubble Hookah & Cafe October 7th
Oklahoma City, OK - Red Dirt Poetry Slam at Sauced on Paseo October 9th

Wooo. That's a lot. :) Thanks to Morgan Coleman Alexandra Marie for helping me set this all up. It goes all the way down next month.

More dates and events will be announced in the coming weeks. So come see me! :)

**UPDATE**

I'm having to edit this post because I'm added a ton of new shows to this tour, so Oklahoma City, I'll be all over you next week! And Dallas, we gon' have some fun.

Here are the new show dates:
10/ 4 - Dallas Black Pride Comedy show and Concert
10/ 5 - Saturday Afternoon Live! at the Paramount, OKC
10/ 7 - Open Mic Night at the Hubbly Bubble Hookah & Cafe 
10/ 8 - **NEW**Open Mic Night at Urban Roots  
10/ 9 - Red Dirt Poetry Slam at Sauced on Paseo 
10/ 10 - Cause.Life.Is.Too.Short Volume 2 at Michael's in Arlington 
10/ 13 - Spotlight Sundays with Masterpiece at 1011 Grill 
10/ 25 - F.L.O.W. at 1011 Grill 
10/ 26 - The Free Word radio show

AND, I'm releasing my first chapbook, Faith Move Muscles, this week. I'll have copies available at all my shows.

If you want more information about me, my shows or how to get merchandise, email me at princess.mcdowell@gmail.com or like my Facebook page.

sweet mo'ning haiku

she sends me haiku in the mo'ning

sun, kiss her for me
dance on her shoulders today
a reason to smile

they are sweet whispers awake
a kind balance to the screams I fall asleep to
she tells me she's not a poet
just a fan of the 17 syllable symphony

the words you spit are
treasures you do share with me
in awe I'm silenced

i don't haiku
not enough discipline to pare down words so samurai
graceful and mercilessly
she tells me she's not a poet
so when she wraps me in silk first moment I wake

i will paint your skin
fingers brush neck, back, hips, thighs
dance with me sweet love

i remember how she touches iambic
how we made shakespearean sonnet
so deep, so beautiful
i hadn't made love poem in so long

head laid on chest
tap to the beat of your heart
walking into love

i don't haiku but
maybe together, humans (5)
linked by the divine (7)

Late Nights, Early Mornings: NPS Edition

it started after group piece finals. after the obligation of competition lifted and I could truly breathe in the present as it was. we headed back to the hotel, and joined in on what felt like a back alley dice game in its rawness, though there was no aggression, no disadvantage, just all love and opportunity to share who you were on the mic. 
nupic is the purest slam I've ever seen, and it was beautiful in a way that's hard to describe. if I envied, it was the ones who said truths unearthed after digging deep, so deep that they had to scream out the words, though that may not have been the intention. I watched like a small child, marveling at the sacrifice and bravery.
after, filled with adrenaline and love I circled the lobby looking for something to pour my heart into. I thought I wanted it to come out in my poetry, that is how I usually release now, but I couldn't find what I was looking for. I wanted a drink, just to enjoy a cold beer as though that would make the moment that much sweeter, but my spirit wouldn't let me search enough to find it. 

Boston sunrise

once I made the decision to go, to go find "it," it led me and my brother to the 15th floor of the hotel. and although our destination was originally higher, the unlocked Empress room door and the wall of windows felt like x marked spot of our adventure. beginning and not end. we gazed at the skyline over the charles river in muted, astonished, marvelous silence. the sky was still dark enough to illuminate the lights in the buildings, and as the sun rose, glistened off the water, the shadows stood up and slinked back in appreciation of her majesty.
 people came, younger poets young at heart and looking for the memory that would last. they were respectful of the silence, revered the space we'd created. soon, we were surrounded by eagerness, and I couldn't scrape the smile off my face.
they found a way outside, and soon, we were witnessing all this up close, accompanied by the warmth and chill of the morning and a slight wind. I asked my brother to spit, not expecting him to freestyle the moment into verse, but he did, and it worked beautifully. the entire time - since leaving nupic - I felt like something special would happen. I didn't know what, but I was to be finding out with someone I've come to hold close.
I recited Music, and although the reverence of beauty had started to fail in silencing them, i felt like I was speaking to everyone present. it was an honor.
we only left once a hotel employee told us we couldn't be there. we walked into town so he could take pictures of the street art. he wanted the architecture, but there was no disappointment because the Most High had already blessed us with a beautiful morning. we dare not ask for anything else. we simply flowed. 

street art

it was about 6:45 a.m. and we'd stayed up the whole night. we needed food and I suggested a place in davis square I'd discovered before a bout. we had egg sandwiches and he listened to me talk, sympathized with all the struggles and hardships I've endured this summer in slam.
when we left, a poet sat outside the cafe, selling copies of his poems for $5. Ricardo, with the two-toned eyes and grey hair. he read a poem probably older than us both, and it made me grateful. we bought a copy of whispers, me combining one of my two-dollar bills with his $3. if you're gonna spend a two-dollar bill, let it be worth it.
on the train back, we snatched winks and embraced the tired that had seeped into our bodies. the walk back was not long. i disregarded a woman's bitter, her anger, because she obviously wanted to hold onto it - I let her - and he reassured me that my heart was in the right place.
I didn't want to sleep once we parted ways and I got back to my room. I knew I needed to. I laid out the blanket with a little more cushion and slept uncovered. the day had been so good, I reluctantly and quickly fell asleep, like a child the night before the first day of school.
two hours later, I was too excited about the morning to sleep. I went for my brother, but he was spent. 
I let him sleep, and followed some other siblings out again, this time to a Dunkin Donuts. on the way, during and after, I talked with my little sister about accepting what you have been given, and not feel apologetic about it. i paid for her food and drink, and sat with another small makeshift family, the boys still wrapped up in the strategy of the competition. on the way back, my little sister shared her joyous news with a brother, and he danced a happy that made me smile. it was a kind moment.
somehow we parted ways differently than imagined at the hotel, and instead of experiencing the planned picnic, i stumbled into an old-fashioned tea party. it was deliberate and exclusive. women, queer, trans only. this created a space for us to talk candidly over hot tea and pound cake, cheese, crackers and "bad bitch lunchables." seated in our circle were some of the most talented and revered women in poetry, and I felt honored to share such a space with them. the experience was needed, especially for me, and I was grateful.
after two hours, people started to disperse, and I snuck off to the room to sleep. the nap was only 15 minutes. even still, it felt like I woke up to a new day. there was still one major thing to do - finals night - and I knew it wouldn't disappoint.

Writing Against The Machine featuring Princess!

The other week, I spent some time talking about my poetry, slam, performance and other things writing with an old college friend. Check out the podcast on their blog, Writing Against The Machine, and let me know what you think!

the most powerful four letter word. . .

the first morning i slept alone
i looked in the mirror
noticed
you kissed a four-letter word under my bottom lip
i thought
the last time you pressed yours to mine we were saying goodbye
rather
you bid adieu to the me that loved you past myself
loved you
til pain felt the same as loving and living for you
noticed
the same four-letter word stamped on the inside of my lip
know i never spoke so
it must've branded itself through my teeth
came up but refused to go down or out
mirror images of what we both want but can't have
you used it like a machete
swung at my arms and my legs as i inched toward the door
this four-walled hand I've been dealt
like this
four-letter sentence I'm serving in the new prison of reality without you
amplifies every time i tie my shoes
close doors behind
echoes like creaks in the floorboard
my home is not supposed to be haunted by a word you never said to me inside it
a word you never said just
rom-com kissed me into believing
fucked me into needing
I wrestle with peace when I'm up and when I'm dreaming
I'm sorry i couldn't stop you from becoming what you always wanted to be
bittersweet tragedy
shakespearean in its legacy
allegory in its relevance
you exist as real as the shadows on my bedroom wall
as real as the four letters you footprinted on my face expecting me to give chase
when all i can do is stand in the middle of apartment
heart
head
present
future in my hands
past like ashes from the sage smudged to clear the way for you
maybe i shoulda opened the window for that smoke signal
or just branded you like you branded me
that way
STAY
could be something you'd have to taste
feel and look in the face
every morning you wake