Hello, peaceful people. We are still on lockdown here at PVSP. And the warden is out, no doubt, somewhere fishing or lobbying with fear for more money for his little prison kingdom.
Denying canteen, visits, freedom to move about the prison; serving cold food; and very late mail delivery, hoping to break spirits. Going on two months of lockdown, a lockdown that could have been lifted weeks ago as blacks and whites saw the folly of the riot and made peace.
Spring may have started already. I have not been able to check with my fellow beings, the cats and birds, to see how Mother Earth is flowing. It has been raining the last couple of days.
I am almost out of writing paper, and the lockdown must end soon. I know the muses of the arts will perhaps inspire the lockdown warden to open up the yard. I remember back in the days at San Quentin, no prisoners worked if any prisoners were on lockdown. Which meant the warders had to do all the cleaning of cell blocks, showers, tiers, and had to cook and pass out all the food. Something very serious would have to happen to cause a long lockdown.
I am still reading heavy. Some poetry books I am reading over and over, and gaining fresh insights each time and inspiration for my own poems.
I have written a few poems. Judith has seen a couple of them, and really liked them. I have written a series of desert poems that Judith is waiting to see, and I am sure Michel is waiting to see them, too. I must rewrite them a couple more times.
Today we got off lockdown, and I am able to watch the birds and cats again, and the flowers on the other side of the fences.
Right next to the visiting building where, when we have visits, warders escort prisoners across the remaining lovely flower beds, there are sparrows under the high gunrails. I am surprised the warders have not fenced the bottom of the walkways off so that the birds cannot nest there, as they have done to the outside roofs of the chow hall.
The lockdown has been over for awhile now. The warden let one or two buildings out every day or every other day until all cell blocks were off lockdown. Cell block three was the last building to come off the lockdown, and was on lockdown two weeks longer than everyone else. Word is the warden said if anything happens now or later, confinement to cells will be three or six months mandatory. Right now the South Sider Mexican gang is on lockdown. Supposedly weapons were found on a couple of them.
Writing Class
Started a new writing group in the cell block, and it is a screenwriting class. There are only two of us in this class, and the other cat is already working on his script and has a self teaching book, a newer addition of the book I have. The guy is serious and has the beginning and end of his text, and is waiting for inspiration to get from A to Z. I suggested that he start a journal and not sit around limp waiting for inspiration that may not come. I suggested that whatever he writes daily in his journal could lend him to complete his script. By engaging pen to paper, ideas can pop up and a muse can pop in. I told him it’s his journal, and the main thing is to write.
The men in my poetry class have spoken, but still have not set on a new day and time to meet. I had both fellows in that class send poems to the PEN awards in New York, and both got back helpful and inspirational comments about their work. I could see how proud they were.
Old School Judith’s Class
I remember one class being in the far basement classroom of San Quentin Education, and Judith brought in a guest poet. A little, cool woman named Ruth, I think. Anyway, she had written a book of poetry called, The Book of Qualities. She took emotions or qualities and wrote a poem for each. Judith read some poems, and so did Ruth, and maybe big Elmo and Robert. I was still pretty much into silence back in those days. I was inspired to write this poem “Realness” in that class. This poem that Michael Mann took upon himself to use in his movie, “Ali,” without my permission. That poem has been published from its inception. I have often thought if I should add something to it, but nothing comes up. Here is the poem:
REAL
Realness eats raw meat
and does not waver
nor drift on the currents
He has the staying power
of the sun
Realness walks only
in his own shoes.
I hope to hear from Katie’s students in North Carolina’s Appalachian State University soon. I am sure it will be inspiring.
Again, I would like to give you a heads up on another website I have mentioned before which helps youngsters and other people share their voices with the world. The organization is run by my friend, Victoria Sammartino, from the Bronx, New York, and I send a hello to some of the people there I know: Tory, Eliu and Que. And what’s up to all the folks at Voices Unbroken. www.voicesunbroken.org
Also, I want to let you know about Anna Olsson, my friend and songwriting buddy from Sweden. We have written a few songs she has developed and sung. She is a brilliant singer, producer, and artist. So if you want to hear a song we wrote, here is her website address:
http://medieteknik.selanoaOI
Check it out please.
Sara Bender, I’m still waiting for you and your mom. Thanks for your inspiration!
Bird Stuff
My New Year is here. The female cat was pregnant, and as I write this, she has new kittens. The warder who feeds the cats tried to trap her, but the cat remembered what happened to her other four kittens, how they were caged and taken away and she has never seen them again. Her lone kitten now nearly grown is a female and soon will be breeding.
I have not seen her daughter for a couple of days now. She may have come into heat and been run off by her mom or something. I don’t know if these cats do that kind of thing. She had doubled in size.
The birds are fluttering all over the place, eating and building their nests. I am sure their nests are full of eggs. No babies yet, at least not any I can see.
I stand by the corner of the yard where the fish pond used to be, and where the parent birds used to bring their young to show them this place of food and drink. They would drop the baby birds off there at the bird feeding tiny tree and bushes. The pond area is full of dirt and barely a bird around now and then.
But I still see the pond and hear the small fish splashing, and the toads at night darting about the waters. I see the raven when the yard is closed or nearly empty, stopping to get the bigger pieces of bread. Happy New Year to you people.
Closing Thoughts
May your thoughts continue to be real and full of peace, love and forgiveness. May joy and growth fill your spirit and your soul! Keep growing. From Peace G Spoon.
