Phil G.

When I started reading my poetry in front of other people I felt exposed, vulnerable, and free. The thoughts and feelings that I had shared only with myself in an indescribable state of creativity were being spoken out loud. It was intimidating yet liberating.

My first reading was in Sacramento. I was excited and terrified. The owner of a clothing shop in downtown encouraged unknown poets to come by and read their work. Towards the front door a man with a head full of grey hair was standing. His smile was so kind that I almost convinced myself he was some kind of angel that only I could see. I swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and began. It felt great! After each poem I would look up and search for his eyes. Each time I'd see that kind smile and my confidence would rev up for the next poem.

When I was done reading, my friends and family were quick to surround me and congratulate me. The man with the grey hair approached me and handed me a piece of paper, told me he liked my poems and silently walked away.

I looked at the green piece of paper that had been folded in half. He had written something...

Gina En La Tarde

The third time

Leaving her alma

Open to the world

words like espantos

That no person

Has Seen

As she lets

Them fly the air

For a short time

Of trust

11/29/92

He signed it but I didn't recognize his name. It wasn't until years later that I saw his name again and learned who he was. He had passed away, and I'm convinced, was finally given a pair of wings.