Goes by the name of Fish. Born in Ethiopia (and delivered by a Nobel Peace Prize nominee, Dr. Catherine Hamlin), grew up in Japan and Kenya, and traveled a lot in between. Full-time graduate working on dual master’s degrees. Pet peeve is when people answer a question with a question. Pastrami sandwich ELITIST. Loves playing soccer and rugby and reading books on World War II and astronomy.
Dual processor. Panda Express enthusiast. Tardy-patron nemesis. Believer in things remaining where he leaves them – AKA, where they should be. Anti: pen ink smear, power seats, and the turn up. Lover of diction. Liver an ode to old fashions. Heart, a podium for good people speech – so says Jason Mars.
We have many homes, and DPL was the first true home for my writing. Not my math, not my Mexican, not my first-generation, not my care for diction, not my recurring rewrites, not my high school essays (which I crafted with much care), but yet, so, too, all of it.
Edwin is one part designer, one part poet, and all parts fabulous. The magical love child of Eartha Kitt and Morgan Freeman, he has the honor of being one of the hosts of Da Poetry Lounge. If he isn’t hosting or dressing people in LA, he can be found eating Thai food or a vast array of sweet and salted carbs. If you need him, he will always be there to remind you of your joy.
DPL means more than home. It means safety. I was 15 when I started coming to the lounge and remember being in such awe by it all that I couldn’t even describe the feeling to anyone, I just felt compelled to invite everyone I saw thereafter.
Da Poetry Lounge holds an indescribable magic that I’ve never wanted to leave. I’ve witnessed people shatter and rebuild themselves inside the collective arms of strangers, I’ve seen us bring in a number of people who had no where else to go, and I’ve experienced many cry in my embrace as they survived the telling of their stories.
All of this is why DPL is more than home to myself and others, it is a sanctuary for everyone who has lived to tell the tale, and those still learning to tell it.
- Mo Browne’s feature
- Rachel McKibbens’ feature
- Shihan’s dance battles with his son, Sy
- a young woman on the open mic named Amaha who sang me into air