Meg Day is a nationally awarded spoken word artist, published poet and
badass arts educator who hails from San Diego but is currently writing and performing throughout Oakland, and teaching young poets to
hold their own at the mic with Youth Speaks in San Francisco. She
currently runs weekly poetry and performance workshops at ARISE High
School in the Fruitvale and teaches 10th grade language arts in East
Oakland on the weekends and during the summer through Upward Bound.
Day is a 2006 graduate of UC San Diego's Lit/Writing
Program and recently completed her MFA in Poetry at Mills College in
Oakland. She's an alumnus of both Naropa University's Summer Writing
Program at the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics, and one of
Poetry Slam Inc's first Poetry Cross Training Conferences at SUNY
Oneonta.
In 2006 she became San Diego's first queer Spoken Word Grand Champion, a title she held for three years running, and was named by OUT-ART Magazine as one of the nation's "Top 30 Under 30" up-and-coming artists in 2009.
She has taught courses and facilitated workshops throughout the country, but has found working with the young folks of Oakland to be the most rewarding job yet. "I've never lived in a city that pays attention like Oakland does, that speaks up like Oakland does," says Day. "So much of that momentum is coming from the young folks, the students, the artists. Voice means something here and being a part of that, through teaching and performing and real-live activism, has really changed the way I think about my own work. It doesn't stop at the page -- it can't."

After an autumn chock-full of readings at LitQuake, BangOut SF and Cherry Bleeds, Day spent this last winter on a Pacific Northwest tour with her pack, The Poetic Liberation Collective, whose other members include Oakland's own brilliant queer artist-activists Na'amen, Jezebel Delilah X & Annah Anti-Palindrome.
In February, Day received a San Francisco Creating Queer Community Grant for a project that will showcase hearing and deaf queer performers at the National Queer Arts Festival in 2011. Most recently, she was nominated as one of the Best New Poets of 2010.
Day has been featured at the March on Washington in DC, The San Diego Hip Hop Festival, Fists Up: International Deaf Day Celebration, Life is Living Festival, the National Queer Arts Festival, The San Francisco and San Diego AIDS Walks, KPFA Radio with Beyond the Odds, and a variety of venues along both coasts. As an advocate for equality with a fresh take on language (and a love of the underdog) her work often shifts from the page to the stage and back again, having found a readership most recently in The Greenbelt Review, Outspoken: An Anthology, Flaneur Foundry, Zyzzyva and The Walrus.
POEMS BY MEG DAY
Welcome to America, Son
after Tyehimba Jess
This is America, son
place where you have never been heard –
only seen & seen & seen & seen &
shuffled quietly, built steadily, into the sidelines.
You have power that means little on this planet;
you tilt heads, pout lips, cause paralysis when ordering coffee.
You are at the other end of the hook
in rubber-neckers’ eyes
and this, son, this is your country.
This is America
& last night I had a dream
where children’s skulls were hammered open –
by doctors listening to Beethoven –
their cochleas wired & lit
like trashy fiber optic Christmas trees
in hopes that being able to hear the garbage truck in the morning,
but not knowing what the sound means,
might make them fully human.
This is America, son
& I am not dreaming.
This is where violence is casual & medical & necessary
when in the name of sameness.
Where disability has been attached
to everyone who is not Uncle Sam.
Be thankful for the things you cannot hear
& do not listen to their pity.
You are not Pinocchio.
You need nothing but your integrity
to be a real boy.
This is the place waiting
to grow up so you can grow up.
You are a small prisoner in my arms
a dubbed body, looped and breaking
I keep close under wing, grasped
in anticipation
of how the world might stifle you,
placate with placards that
excuse & encourage the absence of your voice.
This is me, son. The country called Mother.
Waiting for the time to be right enough,
knowing there will never be enough right time,
preparing a place where borders always intersect.
This is me, son.
Wondering if I’ll ever be strong enough
to let go of your hand
so you can speak for yourself.
check check
they call it trance, the break, play, third eye,
out of body, blurring lines, other worldly,
adrenaline, endorphins, spellcasting, buck-
bodied & brewed. they call it dreamdaze,
ecstasy, muse-stupor, rapture, reverie,
transfiction, ponderplace & parked. they call
it blackout. they call it somnolence. they call
it reflective consciousness, deja voodoo,
nadaville, stupevacation & guazeface. they
call it swoon. they call it the torpedo
zone.
coastlines
when my great grandmother
came around the horn, she
couldn't have known
her daughter, lanikai
would bear six more
all lei'd out
along the island shores
kaohao and still haole
she couldn't have known
one grandchild
among twenty
would have their way
with both worlds
words & waves,
the longboard a thick
tipped pen
with which to
carve out the grains
of sand
from all
history's grains
of salt
For more information on Meg and her upcoming events, you can check out her Facebook page.