Many adventures were had, but among the most amazing was a magical night on one of the little islands off Miami Beach. Our host, the poet Tom Healy, knew our album had come out, and asked me which song I'd dedicated to Gaby's birthday (which coincided with our record release show last week). I told him about Marble Floor and the story of Chana. (I also happened to be sitting next to a famous poet dude at the moment, who turned to me and asked, "Do you have a song about Tamar?" "Yes, Desert, the first one on the album!" The table was curious about Tamar's story and he told it perfectly. I was impressed. I wanted to talk to him about Torah, but I was too shy, so I just kind of followed him around.)
I didn't even tell our host that Chana was my Hebrew name, but he almost seems to intuit it in this beautiful blog posting he wrote on the Best American Poetry blog, and sent me a link to the next day. The dessert to the dessert.
The next night Gaby and I met a circle of Miami poets who were, across the board, sweet, thoughtful and smart. Their community seems incredible and made me a little jealous. They took us to the Cuban restaurant on No Name Harbor, in a state park in Key Biscayne; the families of one of the poets, David, runs the restaurant and has for years. We had a ceviche the likes of which I have not tasted since Honduras; heard tales of catching 80 mahi mahi in a single fishing trip; and then went to the family's home to watch the Pacquiao-Cotto fight.
My first boxing match. In the middle of a state park. I had to try hard not to cry (those last few rounds seemed unnecessarily violent) but I also kind of loved it, to my own surprise. Training. Discipline. Perserverance. Presence. It made me want to go write.
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