POETS PLACE
DECEMBER 2025 EDITION
End of year edition! We are still here navigating this years illegal operations from the White House. There is sufficient evidence to end this racist regime. What is holding up the process?? My head bursts daily about the schemes, violence, illegal activities and the bad mouthing of people who are actually fighting for our freedoms. The regime will topple, but the power that has been given to the billionaires and the Heritage foundation will still continue to wreak havoc. It is so hard for me to turn off the tyranny that is happening in our country and around the world. I understand and can relate to going postal at times, which as we know does not help the situation. I have said in earlier editions of this column, that I want to be a part of the coup that storms the WH. I hope that it will fall without a coup. But, just in case, where do I buy a flak jacket? On a positive note, I have just returned from Rome. A beautiful city full of ancient history and religious artifacts. I went to the Vatican, of course a must do when in Rome and I was surrounded by the historic culture, art and architectural beauty. I’ve never seen so many ancient sculptures! Sculptures that were pilfered by Popes and taken to the Vatican for preservation. Ha! Many taken from Villas D’Este and Adrianna’s villa in Tivoli which was built before Rome. I saw sculptures of Hercules, Claudius, and a lot of Sarcophagus’, and artwork depicting Jesus, Jesus, Jesus! He is so loved in this country! I was in awe of all the beauty and work that artists have created in this city. I truly enjoyed my trip. I am so blessed to be able to travel. I stayed with my friend Christine in her apartment in Ladispoli. Ladispoli is a coastal town in the Metropolitan City of Rome, situated along the Tyrrhenian Sea between Cerveteri and Fiumicino. It developed as a seaside resort during the 20th century and is now known for its wide beaches, promenade, and convenient location less than an hour from the capital. The town’s coastline is characterized by dark volcanic sand, while its center features a mix of modern developments and traditional shops and cafes.
The area around Ladispoli has strong historical ties to ancient Caere, the Etruscan settlement near Cerveteri, and archaeological remains can still be found nearby. The Torre Flavia, a medieval coastal watchtower, stands as one of its main landmarks, now surrounded by a protected nature reserve rich in birdlife. With good train connections to Rome, easy access to Leonardo da Vinci International Airport, and proximity to archaeological and coastal sites, Ladispoli combines convenience with a relaxed seaside atmosphere (Italy review).
I also visited the town of Bracciano. Bracciano is a small town in the Italian region of Lazio, 30 kilometres northwest of Rome. The town is famous for its volcanic lake and for a particularly well-preserved medieval castle Castello Orsini-Odescalchi. Wow! The castle was awesome! Gorgeous views of the lake and surrounding areas. Just hanging out in a castle that was once vibrant and active built in the 15th century felt magical. Tom Cruise and Martin Scorsese had their weddings there! I think my favorite place was Tivoli though. I’m glad to be back in LA, my city, my kinda town! I’m an LA girl through and through!
December POETS PLACE offers a mix of talented writers and artists. Thank you all for supporting the column and sharing your art with us all!
Happiest of Holidays everyone!!!!
Until Next Year!!!!
Love, Linda XX
A non-Sequitur in Ladispoli Rome
By Linda Kaye
Earth, black sand, ocean breeze, cold, crisp, lovely sunspace captures hearts of wickedness turning into sweetness and warmth
goddess of love hear the cries, whisper truths
birds send messages to the goddess who keeps her heart from breaking
the maintenance of crumbs falling off the bow doesn’t do justice once boats have moored
dogs are walked, and people speak in tongues only the dogs can hear
they bark sentences containing the secrets of human existence
There is no life beyond the horizon
She knows this and attempts to report this awareness on the bridge of Hope
Miles and years must be traveled before it connects to the opening
This is nonsense
A voice shouts from the courtyard of justice
Give me the rope to hang myself
It’s too dangerous on this bridge
The temperature drops continuously, spiking fevers
Sweat drips into the main tunnel, rolling into the sea
Al mare discusses its fate
It tortures Romulus once again
The Graduation Portrait
By Jackie Chou
Iggy Lu googled the 1993 Arcadia High School yearbook, just to revisit her own picture in it.
The color pages of the graduating class popped onto the screen. Iggy averted her eyes from the boys and girls with highlights in their stylish hair. There she was, amidst all those kids, in what was supposed to be the best time of her life. The young Iggy in the photograph extended her neck eagerly, as if she would disappear when the camera flashed. Iggy with crooked black bangs, no makeup, and a white T-shirt with a round neckline.
The only reason Iggy searched for traces of that time in her life was an email she recently received in her Spam folder, from someone named Lee, who claimed to remember her from high school. Iggy did not recall somebody by that name. Nor did she think anyone from Arcadia High would feel fondly enough about her to want to get in touch thirty years later.
Then the truth surfaced, slowly like a Polaroid picture. She had been fooled again, by a scammer who sensed her desperate longing for friendship and love. That's why the letter went to Spam.
Jackie Chou (she/her) is a writer from Southern California who has two collections of poetry, The Sorceress and Finding My Heart in Love and Loss, published by cyberwit. Her poem "Formosa" was a finalist in the Stephen A DiBiase Poetry Prize. She also has poems published in Synchronized Chaos, The Ekphrastic Review, Panoply Zine, Alien Buddha Zine, and Spillwords.
from the ashes
by linda m. crate
today a little
perfectly formed
snowflake with
round indents
landed on my shoulder
as if it came straight out of a
cookie cutter,
and i saw red berries
contrasting starkly
against the gray
sky whose solemn hymn
was too heavy for me to carry;
and i think the universe
was trying to tell me that magic
exists even in small breaths
of miracles of ordinary things—
& so i cling onto the
flaming tail of hope,
knowing i will rise from the
ashes again;
preferably sooner rather than later.
Linda M. Crate (she/her) is a Pennsylvanian writer whose poetry, short stories, articles, and reviews have been published in a myriad of magazines both online and in print. She has seventeen published chapbooks the latest being: only the future knows (Alien Buddha Press, November 2025).
The WillToBeast
By Sam Moore
The Willtobeast was born in autumn. Under the sunlit moon. The moon shone so bright that night, that the forest lit up a pale hue that resonated through the leaves as a trickle (of water) does down a stream. The forest lay peacefully that night, as the Willtobeast slept. The unusual thing about that night was the wind. It swayed this way, and that. Back and forth in a dance like motion, until it clapped with the night as the birds do with the day. The song it sung was peaceful and deep. There was a tranquil dew upon the leaves on the bushes underneath the trees, where a frog slept. (was sleeping). The fairy creatures roamed in the twilight of dusk, as the the Willtobeast slept. It was unaware of the fairies presence. They were flying gently around the frog, as it lay sleeping. The dew glistened in the hue of the other from the autumn moon. The Willtobeast slept.
Love is a lecture
Love is compromised ideals Love is a notion
Love is everything I feel
Sam Moore is a pianist of 28 years, who lives in Los Angeles, California. He plays classical, as well as sings grunge and punk rock.
LITTLE PIGGY
By Keith Kurlander
Pop-art style collage featuring a halftone-patterned adult man pointing aggressively at Porky Pig, who looks startled and is holding papers. A bold comic-style speech bubble reading “QUIET PIGGY” explodes between them. The background is a vibrant repeating dot pattern in red, green, and yellow, and the vertical text “DISOBAY” appears along the right side in distressed lettering.
Keith Kurlander “I've always been a creative soul, I make art, music, music videos, TV shows, films and mayhem. If you want to learn all about my fascinating life, here's a good place to start.” Life & Work with Keith Kurlander of Los Angeles https://voyagela.com/interview/life-work-with-keith-kurlander-of-los-angeles/ MUSIC LINK: https://www.idiot-savant.net/ ART LINK: https://www.artpal.com/disobay
"Warm, Wintry Mixes”
By Lida Parent Harris
12/2/25. 10:58 a.m.
A sublime tater tot that you are.
Apple strudel on Christmas Morning.
You look beautiful in your holiday best.
The rule is they're are no rules. A present, nonetheless.
Except that you savor every last morsel of roast duck.
Open a bottle, settle in a comfy chair.
We're all here to listen to your stories.
The cold winds gale of laughter
ascends..
as we deck the halls
and wave our hearts content.
Lida began her writing career in 2001 when she began attending Open-mic events in the San Fernando Valley. She met wonderful friends in a coffeehouse, and soon her life and world opened.
Lida attended Community Literature Initiative instructed by Hiram Sims. It was a writing course at USC which gave her new roots. Her first book of poetry was published in 2015, by World Stage Press. She enjoyed performing in new venues, and creating her own shows called Lyrical Flames, in 2014.
Since then, Lida has performed her poetry in Las Vegas, Chicago, Santa Monica, Long Beach, North Holland, ArtShare LA, Leimert Park, Grand Park, and The Los Angeles Times Book Festival.
Lida is currently a mentor and dedicates her time to teach poetry for adults for The Los Angeles County Department of Mental Health. She is also taking Drumming and writes song lyrics for new realms of creativity.
Love What Survives
By Thea Lopez
When does something become itself
Recognize the whipping belt
All the extras by the wayside
Exercised the expression held
Feeling up on your underneath
Warm beneath the wet shell
I'm so glad you came to tell
the happiness I should've felt
I want you to be like salt in my wounds
I want for you to heal me over
I hope that it won't hurt fore
I want you to crash over me like a wave
And I will listen to the Sound
I can't wait to
Love what survives
Thea Lopez 22 y.o. sometimes-poet Email: forgodandliberty@gmail.com
A national threat
by Dean Okamura, born June 17, 1953, Los Angeles, California, United States of America
I feel less American
than
when
I was born.
I thought I was
one
of
"Our Gang",
another kid like
"Leave
it
to Beaver".
I still hear stories where
people who look like me are told
to go back to where
we came from.
I came from Los Angeles, but
they tell me to go back to where
I "really" came from: "China!"
Then someone says, that
I am Japanese, he says,
"Japs have more slanty eyes".
The ICE agent says a lot of
Mexican Indians look like me.
Next time, I need to carry
my American passport, too.
Dean resides in Torrance. There is so much happening in this world, but he can only comment in small poems.
This Old House
By Mary Cheung
2:47 a.m.
9-22-25
This old house holds the memories of laughter and tears.
Epic birthday party's held throughout the years.
And I can't help but think.
How painful it is now to have you here... back in my arms, reminding me..
Of when you were generous with your love and what you gave to me.
The ghost of what our lives used to be haunts me.
So, I think, as much as I loved this old house...
It might be time to move on and make new memories,
Make new dreams
And give new life, in a new home.
So, I can still fondly hold onto the best moments in our old home…
Mary Cheung is a multi-disciplinary artist. She has been creating art since she was little. Youngest in a family of eight, she came to America at the age of 2 and grew up in San Francisco. She attended American school during the day and Chinese school at night.
Mary has an AA degree in Fashion Design and a Best Costume Design Award from the NAACP. She often creates costumes for her art narratives and creations. She was the recipient of 3 grants in 2024 and the Denis Diderot and Emerging Artist award. She has art exhibited and published locally and Internationally.
Her real passion and drive come from being able to engage the community while bringing hope, healing, joy, and human connection. It is her goal to be able to continue to do this while making an impact on society’s values and thinking.
“I hope that I can be a role model for others to find their own true voice in life through my art."
Skyscrapers and Too Many Cars
by Ana-Alicia Salazar
To the gentle soul
She met in a town of skyscrapers & too many cars
Beginnings of sharp conversations
Soft smiles & tear-filled laughter
Her eyes
Captivated by a cigarette
Hanging from His lips
As He spoke of art, urban projects,
Goals and ideas
His soul radiates aesthetics,
Unifying wonders
His confidence– striking
His impassioned gusto– fiery
His drive– riveting
Her– awestruck
She doesn’t recall knowing Him–
It wasn’t always Him
It was better than fiction
Late night outings
New adventures
Shameless entanglements
Euphoric twinklings with an unforgettable being
Indelible days, hours,
Minutes with Him
Moments of Him
Ana-Alicia is a contributing writer for UP Magazine, a street art and graffiti magazine. She's a street art enthusiast, and a Multiple Sclerosis warrior. Ana loves love. She writes about love gone right, wrong, and awry. Tirelessly, Ana continues to create, write, and promote Multiple Sclerosis awareness. Writing aides taming intense back aches, to flaming feels.
In the Beginning
For Looping
by Mona Jean Cedar
*THE LOOP
In the beginning/PAST it Begins
& Then it Happens
& Then it Ends
Then a New Beginning
a New Happening
a New Ending
Again, it Begins; it Happens; it Ends
Again & Again & Again
*PHYSICAL- We
BEGIN
It Begins in Confusion
What am I Do-Do-ing? - Where to Begin
Not Knowing Where we’re Going
or How to Get-there or Why We are Here
HAPPEN
As it Happens we Think we’re Happy
As it Happens we don't Think
As it Happens it's Automatic, Easy, Nothing Matters.
It’s Comfortable. We Feel Safe
END
It Ends. We Can’t Comprehend Why?
We don’t Want this. We Try to Persist. Endure Indignities
too Afraid of the Future
too Afraid of the unknown
so we Stay -til They Decide
a Couse Not Our own
*MENTAL- You
BEGIN
This New Beginning is Familiar
Feels like You’ve Been-here-Before
Seems there’s a Path or a Plan
& Maybe it’s Yours
HAPPEN
This New Happening, is just a little bit Strange
it’s the Same But it’s Different Because it’s Changed
You Control which Direction
You grasp it’s Important
END
This New Ending. Though Not so Scary, it is Still Sad
You Now Understand – so You Accept it
You don’t Need it – it just doesn’t Fit
*SPIRITUAL - I
BEGIN
Now I Begin Excited to Create
My Dreams Exactly As I Wish. I Know that I Can
HAPPEN
Now My Life Happens As I Desire.
I Decide My Desires that Inspire My Love
are for Sharing. it’s My Calling
I will Not Give-up
END
Now All Endings Open-up to New Blessings
Offerings that I Embrace Content to Let-go
I See a Bigger-Vision Everything Must End
There’s Always a New Beginning
LOOP
As a Performance Artist, Mona Jean, composes her original poetry crafting ASL and spoken English to mesh and sometimes adding dance.
As Circuitry & Poetry, Ms. Cedar choreographs dance with original lyrics in ASL to her husband, Jeff Boynton’s, originally composed music.
Christmas ... in Space!
By Darren Hembd
Santa sat on his Elven sofa and shook his head at his wayward sons. They barely got along all year, and now that it was Christmas, they were the fakest angels that ever were. Such charades indeed.
“I'm grateful for my brother,” lied Santa Jr. He wanted to impress his father whilst competing with his younger brother Atnas. “I can't wait to make my brother happy,” lied Atnas, not to be outdone.
Santa was losing interest in his sons and checked his watch. “Oh, horsefeathers,” he swore. It was almost time to gas up the sleigh for his annual delivery. “You boys be good for Mama now.”
“We will,” lied the boys in unison. As soon as Santa closed the door, they ripped off their church clothes and began to fight like savage animals. Some elves snuck out to watch through the window.
Santa's sleigh took off from Claus Airport at noon. Using the power of mathematics, he estimated he could deliver all the presents before any of the children could write nasty reviews about him.
“Santa was so late,” a child did not write. “Two stars.” Another child didn't write: “I want my Christmas wishes back.” And also there was other stuff no one wrote because Santa delivered things quickly.
This Christmas was weird. He spent some time dodging satellites sure, that was nothing new. But what about the alien saucers? What was the deal with that? Then he checked his Alien Christmas list.
“Ah. Those are all the alien children who want stuff for free,” shook the head of Captain Santa, our Christmas hero. “Probably the only thing they have in common with kids if you think about it.”
Some of the alien saucers had red and green tinsel with twinkling lights. That way, they could trick people into thinking they were worth talking to. Plus lighting, in case of any space snow.
“They'll thank us if a blizzard comes,” sneered one of the aliens. He spoke in Alienese, but I translated it free of charge. I'm just that type of Writer. “Plus, people like annoying lights.”
Unfortunately, Santa's alien detour made him one minute late for Little Tommy's house. By the time Santa got there, there had been so much crying that Tommy's parents had to use a Christmas mop.
“Just leave them by the door,” growled Tommy's dad. “You've betrayed us for the last time.” His son was so heartbroken, he didn't even look at Santa whilst he wondered why he had been foresaken.
After two minutes of feeling bad, Santa remembered that he made millions of other kids happy, so he forgot all about Tommy. You could tell because he was whistling on the way back to the North Pole.
“I'm the king of presents,” sang Santa. As he touched down on the Claus Airport runway, he noticed that the cargo hold was one present heavier than last year. He forgot to give it to Tommy. Oh well.
Back at the Claus residence, his sons had completely destroyed the living room whilst they were covered with bruises and bandages. For fun, he made them fight for Tommy's present and smiled inside.
The End.
Darren Hembd, A Survivor of abuse that processes trauma into fiction.
For more stories: https://substack.com/@darrenhembd
Husband
By Heather Romero KornBlum
When I first called you husband
you were wearing
rented patent-leather tuxedo shoes
you ultimately forgot to return
I hoarded shoes –
things I could wear regardless of shifts in my body
When I gave away yours
the leather sneakers from Lands’ End
the denim canvas Toms
your Clarks I was so proud to buy you for work
your Puma suedes,
the Speedcats you coveted and said you didn’t need
but I got you anyway
I said you were a ghost
After 10 years
I couldn’t feel your presence
The miles we walked together erased
When Out of the Closet came to haul away the furniture
I was already boxing up your pairs
I said no
with sadness
when they asked if you were coming back for them
They ultimately refused to carry the furniture down the flights of stairs
but they took your shoes –
some new in box
I was so convinced you were dead
and that I would never see you walk again
A former academic researcher, Heather Romero-Kornblum returned to poetry after several near-death experiences due to Long Covid. She captures the crumbling of her marriage in the wake of her near-death experiences in I’M NOT OVER YOU – the 2025 Four Feathers Press Chapbook Contest winner.
She is published in multiple journals and anthologies, including with Women Who Submit in ‘This Makes up the Sky’ and ‘Accolades,’ Quiet Lightning’s ‘Sparkle and Blink,'‘ Four Feathers Press monthly anthologies, The Zest of the Lemon, and Plague 2020: A world Anthology of Poetry and Art About Covid-19 and has featured at multiple venues, including at the WordParty Poetry and Jazz monthly series, Sacred Grounds – the longest running open mic in San Francisco, Mutiny Radio, Poems under the Dome, Four Feathers Press, Cobalt Poets, and Lyrical Flames. https://www.heatherkornbooks.com/
Winter
By ACBroome
Coming close together
Snow was heavy on the ground—
A kind of antibiotic
Early the next morning
Hit by time
As dark thickened
Displayed greetings were irresistible
To give up all the nonsense
At once all was wrong
As a part of that scene—
And nothing underneath
Nude was expensive
Yet knowing too well
Each crowded and unappreciated
A good understanding
Previously and managing
Because reference was a departure
And life rootless
An old high-spirited
Personal agony
Without any shame
Lied and spent its life—
Poised wit inside a white
and just frame.
Anna Broome is a Los Angeles poet who has published in various anthologies and journals including Acts of Light, LA Art News and Spectrum 17. Broome performs for local troupes including Public Works Improvisational Theatre’s Storyphile at venues including Beyond Baroque and Art Share LA. She produces and hosts the Anna Broome Room, a monthly, free-to-the-public live-performance art show for the last ten years at Art Share LA. Broome studied poetry at the University of North Carolina at Wilmington with Pulitzer Prize nominee Michael White. “Women Napping with Animals”, her collaborative project with Ted Meyer, was published in 2014. Her first collection of poetry, “Orthodox Bats”, was published in 2019. Her second collection “Sex Ed: A Prerequisite at Columbine” was published in 2022. Her new collection “An Irregular Bone” is currently under consideration for the Wilder Prize.
Languages
By Don Kingfisher Campbell
Wall eye knee
I understand
She always asks me
to speak slower
Then she gets
English pretty quickly
But our best
communication is
When we gently
squeeze hands
To convey love
through palms
The number of
squeezes and
Their intensity helps
her to know
What I mean
to silently say
One squeeze
asks attention
Two squeezes
let go so I can
Open the door
or you now
Squeeze squeeze
squeeze squeeze
Illustrates how
much I feel
Feel feel
feel feel
She has learned
my silent language
Gleefully our fingers
dance on each other
Our bodies have
become attached
Don Kingfisher Campbell, MFA Antioch University L.A., taught at USC and Occidental College Upward Bound, board member California Poets In The Schools, publisher Four Feathers Press, host of the Saturday Afternoon Poetry reading and workshop series in Pasadena, California. For awards, features, and publication credits, please go to: http://dkc1031.blogspot.com
Heart of Simon
By Michelle Smith
Simon Rodia visionary Italian artist
33 years climbing The Watts Tower
1990 historic California landmark
At 70 years old
a.k.a El Nuestro Pueblos
Is mightier than gold
Globally admired
Symmetrical
Intricate
Magnificent
Ornate
Nuance
Renowned
Original
Daring
Intriguing
Artist
1921 to 1954
Construction not brick by brick
like the three little pigs house
No golden straw
or splintered wispy wood
Broken from a tree
to blow the house down
1, 2, 3!
Colors tangible and tenacious
are intertwined 7Up bottle green
Phillips Milk of Magnesia cobalt blue
Seashells conch, mussel, and clam
pink, gray, and periwinkle hues
Simon began at the gate
with the heart of a lion of Judah
From the dirt ground
Slow and steady
A painstakingly pace
Porcelain pottery parts
gleaned from nimble vintage fingers
Wall to wall floor tiles
Puzzle fitting cast offs
17 interconnecting
ascending skyscrapers
Sacrificed his body
to build and build and build
Endlessly
A bold and audacious work
Strength to the sublime
To God be the Glory
Simon Rodia
your creation has no demise
Michelle Y Smith is a Los Angelino native and like Stretch Armstrong, I am an action figure with many roles: My heart is mother to my autistic son Chris: a.k.a. my Creative, Happy Righteous, Intriguing, Social Soul. My patience is my CNA employment and advocacy for all with disabilities, especially the developmentally and elderly disabled. My drive is published poetry and prose in the books of DSTLArts.org: "Remembering the Riots: A Literary Anthology" and "Snapshots of South Central and over 15 zines by DSTLArts; 2017-2022. Los Angeles Poets Society Press. Published poetry and prose includes, "Love Letters to 2020 Volume 1 and Volume 2, " Acid Verse II", and Los Angeles Poets for Justice: A Document for the People.” Four Feathers Press, http://fourfeatherspress.blogspot.com PDF; and http://saturdayafternoonpoetry.blogspot.com PDF and Zines from 2022 to the present.
My poem, "There is a Sunflower", was published in June 2025 and nominated by the Four Feathers Press/Print Publication Awards. www.laartnews.com/poetsplace; Poets Place Editions:April, May, July 2025. The Smol Bear Show with Michelle Smith and Don Kingfisher Campbell. Podcast Hosted by Alex S. Johnson. July 2025 YouTube.
Space
By Nita Rios
Walking to the train 3am, she shivers lightly
Pausing mid-step
Two shadows
Move on the sidewalk ahead
Echoing footsteps break the silence
A hurried glance
He zips up.
They shuffle off into the darkness
Nita Rios is a poet and performer based in Los Angeles. Her work blends clarity, mood, and emotional truth.
Ode to Pets
By Snow Mack
2025
Image "Portrait of My Muse" by Snow Mack
Ode to Pets
Pretty
Perpetually wordless actors
Psychics
Cynics
Flaunting their critical mass across freshly folded frills and pillows
Dumb sages
Adorable in mud
Loyal clowns, no oath too grand
Every punchline lands
Evolved by man
Slumbering racers with snoring growls
Beknightedly defending my bed
Infinitely winning my grace
Traits not inherently inherited
Shy smiles, obsessively wrestling the dial
Pointing gratitude my way
More than humane, I carry you in my dreams
Snow Mack (she, her) is a contemporary visual artist known for her vibrant, dream-inspired paintings and symbolic assemblage frames. Her work blends pop culture, mythology, and surreal imagery to explore the subconscious, resulting in visually rich narratives that are both personal and archetypal. Snow Mack lives and works in Los Angeles, where she continues to develop a body of work that merges vivid imagination, cultural commentary, and a deep symbolic vision. SnowMack.com - IG @snowmackart
THANKS FOR JOINING US!!!!
Please submit your written work to: lindakayepoetry@icloud.com
and include a short bio
Linda Kaye writes poetry, curates poetry, produces films, spoken word and art events and produces a poetry column POETS PLACE for the online publication LAARTNEWS, throughout the Los Angeles area. She recently exhibited her first piece of artwork! A photograph taken in Waikiki, was represented at the Los Angeles Makery gallery’s REFLECTION:RESILIENCE show curated by the Arroyo Arts Collective.
Linda’s poetry events have included several summer poetry salons, and shows at the Los Angeles Makery, the Align Gallery, 50/50 Gallery, Gold Haus Gallery, Ave 50 Gallery, and Rock Rose Gallery in Highland Park, The Manifesto Café in Hermon, Pilates and Arts studio in Echo Park, and Native Boutique, Zweet Café in Eagle Rock, The Los Angeles Makery in Little Tokyo. And at the Neutra Institute Gallery and Museum in Silverlake. Her first short documentary film “BORDER POETS” was a socially and politically inspired event with poets and musicians filmed at the border wall near Tecate, Mexico on the Jacumba, Ca. side of the US. The film co-produced by MUD productions is available for viewing on her website and on youtube. https://youtu.be/5Te4-dlhxco
Her rap music video project in collaboration with Mary Cheung, “ERACE-ISM” can also be seen on youtube. https://youtu.be/NfrbveNUBgg. This video was accepted into the Ontario Museum of History & Art show “We the People” Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow. February 2- April 16, 2023. So honored!!
And…February 19, 2022, she debuted her staged poetry production of “20 Years Left” at the historic Ebell Club in Highland Park! Two sold out shows with 2 standing ovations!! Check out the links to reviews and the video!
https://thehollywoodtimes.today/20-years-left-new-show-performance-poetry-music/
20 Years Left youtube live stream 2/19/22
Linda Kaye is a native Angeleno who grew up in the San Fernando Valley. She claims to be both a first-generation Valley Girl, and The Original Hipster. Educated at Antioch University and Cal State Long Beach in psychology and social work. Linda, now retired from medical social work, was working for her last seven years of employment as a psychotherapist and licensed clinical supervisor for an out patient mental health clinic. She was a licensed medical social worker for 30+ years working on the front line of healthcare, a private consultant for Physicians Aid Association and for skilled nursing facilities throughout California and Arizona. She was also an adjunct assistant professor at the USC Suzanne Dworak-Peck School of Social Work. Oh yeah.
Twitter/Instagram: lindakayepoetry
http://voyagela.com/interview/daily-inspiration-meet-linda-kaye/https://
shoutoutla.com/meet-linda-kaye-poet-poetry-and-theatrical-producer-filmmaker/