Nothing Costs .99

Nothing costs .99 / not even The 99 / on Wilshire at Fairfax / that prior to being a 99 / was Marinello Beauty School offering press / & curl / and the try-ons / at Payless / sold styles / made in Brazil / then China / before going the way of K-Mart / Still .99 is not even a dollar / yet casi / and we bought handfuls / carts full / before gas soared / in the Golden State / to 7 dollars / for the good of empire

Last Night Me Dormí Très Bien

Last night me dormí très bien / and the comeback / of dawn / alba-ing / as if never disappeared / into the silence surrounding our forebears / sold into Southern oblivion / African stories / of refugees, asylum seekers / sequestered / twenty twenty-six / off-shored like production / replicating capital / out of airplane wings / motors / breath / and the comeback / hitting an F5 for ten seconds / from Céline Dion / Behold the Titanic / on the ocean floor / whispering as if an ancestor

Skin: Peel;

Sever finger; dispatch to Haiti

     (why: revolution)


Partition nose; route to Manzanar

     (why: collaboration)


Excise mouth; forward to Louisiana

     (why: rabble rousing)


Remove scalp; send to Oklahoma

     (why: gold)


Carve cheek; transmit to El Salvador

     (why: insurrection)


Pluck questioning eyebrow; sail towards Liberia 

     (why: Black)


Sliver neck; return to Mexico

     (why: land)


Chop cotton hand; transfer to Alabama

     (why: inheritance)


Disjoin kneecap; route to China

     (why: un-American)


Extract kidney; transmit to Guatemala

     (why: Indio/India/Indie)


Slit liver; transmit to Central African Republic

     (why: Whatever)


Pierce heart; return to sender

     (why: Why?)

Skin: Peel;

A Poem? by Audrey Shipp

They’re Killing Everything This Year

They’re killing everything this year / the plants and rocks / the detours / the roundabouts / and the stairways / to heaven / They’re killing the sand particles / that lead to the beach / the clouds / hovering overhead / and the dreams of distant shores / on the other side / the baby / dolls & / the mother / of pearl / They’re killing the invisible steps / of shoelaces / and the paths we run to get away / the good air / and the smoke / even father / time / They’re killing all the letters / in the alphabet / from a to i / starting with the beginning / of this sentence / and ending with the / butt / of this thought

Rain Immigrated to My Window

Rain immigrated to my window / like splish & splash / not forced removal / not even enslavement / migrated as cloud / as water / not ice / moved from Mexico / danced from Guatemala / leap-yeared from Ghana / brought believability / brought besos and humidity / turned tomorrow into a phrase: / Quizás. / Questioned borders / and other b-words.

Why I Didn’t Publish my Bilingual and Multilingual Poetry

I wrote bilingual poetry after my African American mother and her African American friend, Kathy, drove adolescent me from Guadalajara, Mexico to Durango, Durango for summer school.

I wrote poetry after my step granddad filled my ears with the improvisational jazz of Dexter Gordon and Miles Davis.

I wrote multilingual poetry after my failed attempt at foreign exile left words lingering in French.

I wrote bilingual poetry during the revolutionary years of Central America when U.S. counterrevolution left the cars in L.A.’s Koreatown with bumper stickers shouting Honduras, Nicaragua, El Salvador, and Guatemala.

I wrote multilingual poetry the year Luis Enrique Mejía Godoy gave his concert for peace in Bovard Auditorium at USC.

And the years Eddie Santiago, Lalo Rodriguez, and el Gran Combo de Puerto Rico played at Hollywood Palladium.

And the year J. California Cooper, Paule Marshall, Sonia Sanchez, Michelle T. Clinton, Wanda Coleman, and Sherely Ann Williams read their poetry at California Afro-American Museum.

And then I stopped.

I put my poetry in a file folder and kept it there.

While I read middle school books.

While I conjugated verbs at night school with adult students in ESL.

While I graded high school essays.

While I raised kids.

While I wrote a novella and submitted it (unsuccessfully).

While I mastered creative nonfiction.

While I founded a literary magazine and published the poems of other writers.

While I wrote a memoir about writing bilingual and multilingual poetry.

 And then it dawned on me – except for three poems I’d published at Arte Público Press, my poems were unpublished.

Why did I not publish my poetry during so many years?

Because it never occurred to me.

I hope that you will read Poetry, Poesía, Poésie in AfroDiaspora. Perhaps it’s because I wrote these poems during years of social crisis that their themes ring as if written today. I enjoyed going back and editing them. I think you will enjoy the read. And after reading, please leave a review on Goodreads.

How to Answer a Question About Genocide (a stutter poem)

Um…maybe / Darfur (Sudan) / perhaps, not sure / Bosnia / well…and / Armenia / possibly…hmm / Biafra (Nigeria) / sometimes…well / Bangladesh / is this mic on? / Amerindian / could have been / East Timor / mic check…mic check / Haiti / hmm…let me see / Ukraine / there is that one… / Gaza / but not certain… / Lebanon… / well, it might … / The Middle Passage… / we seem to have / Guatemala / our notes have… / The Holocaust / can’t really detect… / Rwanda / Let me get back to you… / Cambodia / mic check… / Congo / Technology these days…

Publishing On My Mind

The end of February finds me with publishing on my mind.

I feel fortunate and excited because my hybrid memoir manuscript WHEN I WAS A BILINGUAL WRITER BIRTHED BY BLACK L.A. found a home with Unsolicited Press. I decided to go the un-agented route due to the difficulties in publishing memoir for those of us who are not celebrities. I submitted to approximately thirty small publishers during a query and submission process that was challenging, but that also grew easier the more I practiced it. By the time I made the twentieth query, I had become a bit of an expert on the query letter.

I described my query process in an essay that was published this month on the Jane Friedman blog. The title of the essay is “How I Navigated My Way to a Memoir Deal from a Small Publisher.” Non-celebrity memoir is the most difficult genre in which to get published, but I was able to secure a deal because I had learned so much from other writers in the writing community. Make sure you read my essay for the details.

Also, regarding publishing, once I secured my contract to publish my memoir, I realized there was a bit of a vacuum in my writing history. The title of my memoir refers to my bilingual poetry, but in reality, I’d only published three of my bilingual and multilingual poems back in 1991 in Americas Review published by Arte Publico Press. The rest of my poems I’d guarded in file folders for years.

So, I’m currently in the process of self-publishing those poems now. It’s actually a fun and exciting process because I get to edit my poetic voice from over thirty years ago. And the process of finding a book cover artist and helping to design the cover has been awesome!


With this message, I hope to communicate the importance of never giving up. Don’t give up if you have to submit to over thirty publishers. And don’t give up if it seems daunting to publish writing from over thirty years ago. Positive persistence makes us human! And it’s contagious.

Book Readings in the Los Angeles Area

Looking back on my past two months attending book readings in Los Angeles, I’m inspired and energized by the manner in which these gatherings create community!

Connecting on social media is great, but real life is so much better. In-real-life events allow us to detect nuances we just can’t perceive when we interact digitally. And the connections we make are more authentic and lasting.

I found and/or rediscovered literary spaces where I feel at home. And I even became a member of Women Who Submit!

So which events did I attend?

At Skylight Books in the Hollywood area, I heard Michelle Gurule talk about her new memoir on sugaring titled Thank You, John. Brandon Taylor engaged in conversation about his novel Minor Black Figures which portrays a NYC painter pondering life and art.  And Myriam Gurba read from her hybrid memoir about plants and memory titled Poppy State and then passed out seeds to members of the audience.

On the westside at Beyond Baroque, poet and author Kevin Young read from two books — A Century of Poetry in the New Yorker: 1925-2025, edited by himself, and Night Watch, his newest book.

In East LA at Espacio 1839, editor Romeo Guzman accompanied Jenise Miller, Elaine Lewinnek, and Peter Chesney as they read from their essays in the anthology Writing the Golden State while George Sanchez-Tello performed and read as well.

Toni Ann Johnson read from her short story collection But Where’s Home? at a Women Who Submit event in Highland Park.

And never to be outdone, Reparations Club in South LA hosted Michaela Angela Davis as she engaged in conversation with Authur Jafa about her memoir tenderheaded.

I closed off this sprint of events in Santa Monica by attending the PEN America Emerging Voices LA Workshop reading. It was thrilling to hear participants read from their fiction, nonfiction, and poetry and to reflect on my experience as a PEN honoree and participant last year. 

I can’t wait to see what the new year brings in readings and lit events!

The LA Opera and Memories of Fascism: Federico Garcia Lorca, Neruda, Hemingway

Would you flee a fascist state?

Given the current state of US political affairs, I was left to ponder that question as I watched the LA Opera production of “Ainadamar” at the Dorothy Chandler Pavillon downtown. In the opera, the character who plays actress Margarita Xirgu tries to convince her friend Federico García Lorca – a poet, playwright, and theater director — to flee Spain as the country hurdles towards civil war. She goes into exile, but the poet refuses to leave. Xirgu then engages with the audience to tell the tragedy surrounding García Lorca’s last days during the Spanish Civil War of 1936-1939.

Why Federico García Lorca?

Upon hearing about this opera, I was compelled to see it. As I state in my hybrid memoir manuscript, I first learned about Federico García Lorca at age sixteen when my AP Spanish Literature teacher introduced me to two poets who had a lasting impact on my own bilingual poetry – García Lorca and Pablo Neruda.

García Lorca is the most prominent Spanish writer of the early twentieth century. Born in 1898 in Granada, Spain and assassinated in 1936, his literary influences were futurism, symbolism, and surrealism. While doing recent research on his life, I realized authorities have given various reasons for his death. Most prominent amongst them is the fact that he was gay and a socialist in a country that was moving further and further to the right.

Was the Spanish Civil War a proxy war?

I am a fan of hybrid memoir, so literature inevitably leads me to history. Because I read the book The Red Flag by David Priestland a few years ago, I reflected on the historical context of the opera as I watched the L.A. production. From Priestland, I learned how the far right in Spain gained more popularity as Hitler consolidated power in and around Germany. Before World War II, Spain, France, and Chile had formed popular front governments to combat fascism. The Spanish left had one of the most successful popular fronts – communists, socialists, and left liberals — in the Western world, and they won the 1936 election.

Regrettably, the leftist victory of the Spanish Popular Front was short lived because General Francisco Franco staged a coup in 1936, the year García Lorca was assassinated. The country endured three torturous years of civil war fought not only by its citizens but also by volunteers from over fifty countries. The fascist governments of Germany and Italy supported Franco while Stalin sent arms to the political left.

While doing recent research, I learned new details about the quickly shifting politics of 1930’s Spain. I knew from Priestland that Picasso became a card-carrying communist during the civil war era. But I also discovered that Chilean poet and Nobel Laureate Pablo Neruda was on diplomatic duty in Spain where he met García Lorca. Like Picasso, Neruda became radicalized as a communist, but he also lost his diplomatic post due to his beliefs. The Chilean poet also met Peruvian poet Cesar Vallejo and attended the 1937 Second International Writers Conference that Hemingway attended.

Despite the valiant efforts of the leftist resistance and the toil of a civil war that cut short 500,000 lives, the General gained control of the country. Franco banned García Lorca’s writing until 1953 — interestingly, the year Joseph Stalin died — and maintained his dictatorship until 1975.

A surprise for me was learning that after many years of tragic war and decades of dictatorship, García Lorca’s remains have never been found.

The LA Opera’s production of “Ainadamar” — conducted by Lina González-Granados of Colombia and choreographed by Antonio Najarro of Spain – was excellent. I appreciate how it put this history and García Lorca’s art on a Los Angeles stage for us to remember and reflect on the importance of resisting the destruction and dehumanization of far-right politics.