During a Seminar that Canʻt Happen Now

During a Seminar that Can't Happen Now - Fall, 2019

It rained today.
No surprise here.

I understand that is a bit like saying
I saw a chicken today.

(Let me translate that for an audience who may have other city streets as guides.
That is a bit like saying
I saw a squirrel today.)

My point is today, 
It rained--

And there we were,
Sitting in concentric circles.
All of us, 25 freshpeople and me
 And a room full of mosquitos.

And there we were,
Sitting in our circles,
Surrounded by each other, 
Our thoughts surrounding us
And words and breath,
Our fears spoken
 And unspoken,
As we tried to answer questions about the kika kila
About Jimmy Rodgers
About Joseph Kekuku
About Charlie Patton
Kaia Kaipo
Son House
The Overthrow
Railroad ties
The Queen
The scattering of people and all that goes with a person, with a people when they are scattered like…
 Not seeds that grow but like--What?
 Embers that burn the backs of the arms of…

No, not quite right.
 What goes with a people when they are scattered
 Like seeds in a fire storm, that become fertile only after the searing,
Burning where they land but also rooting there.
Growing there, eventually.

And so, anyway,
It rained as we sat in our concentric circles
Answering some question
“Why were the accomplishments of someone erased?”
 Or other
“How does music carry cultural data?”

And it rained while we talked,
No surprise.

We, our circles, our thoughts,
Our words, surrounded by the rain,
Colder than most rains here, but louder than usual,
And longer.

We stayed dry but the sound fully engulfed us
As we struggled forward 
To ponder why we seem to insist on erasing 
What some people have made.
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