POETS PLACE
DECEMBER EDITION 2024
The end is near!!! The end of our American values as we enlightened people currently know it. I know I’m being pessimistic, but there is a lot of evidence to support that feeling. People always think, “we have more time to make a difference”. Time ran out last month. “But we joke and laugh otherwise we would start screaming”- Charles Bukowski once proclaimed. There is much to prepare for here in America. America land of the free, home of the unjust. Shall we start purchasing guns to protect ourselves from the rampant hoards of racist loyalists? Growing up as a Jew I have always been on my guard. Growing up I developed a sense of pride for my tribe and a sharp tongue. And, just in case, I also studied the martial arts for many years and was awarded a black belt in Kung Fu San Soo. So go ahead pigs, make my day! I am prepared to die for my beliefs. I have lived my life to it’s fullest and gave 30 years towards helping others in their time of need. I will stand up when it’s called for, I will not back down and shut up. NEVER! I am proud to be an American, as nasty as it is towards others.
POETS PLACE gives a safe space for you to share your thoughts, and rage against this new regime. Until….
I wrote this piece several years ago. Sigh
America, land of the free?
By Linda Kaye (2018)
America, land of the free? Home of the unjust?
Curtains pulled and borders closed
Do we still belong?
Is our status revoked?
Are we still citizens of the United States?
Have we changed the declaration of independence?
Do we wipe out generations of immigrant existence?
If forms of government become destructive do we have the right of the people to alter or abolish it?
Don’t we have a right to freedom?
A right to equality? Freedom from slavery? Freedom from torture or degrading treatment? A right to recognition as a person before the law?
Or are we just dreaming.
Who is watching the country’s store?
We the people of the human race in order to form a more perfect humanitarian world demand justice and tranquility promoting general welfare securing the blessings of liberty and freedom to everyone
regardless.
E pluribus Unum
One nation under God indivisible with liberty and justice
For all
ha
Poem
By Lida Parent Harris
Dog Village Friend
They bark as they waddle
through this town, hunger in their eyes, tails wag, eagerly.
A skeptic is unbothered,
but a hero is among this motherland.
The workings of which mark that even the hungrier of these dogs.
They can see a telltale sign, a lost limb, A mother collie with her sweet pups.
He is the blessing they'll know as soon as he displays food for them all to eat.
Any stranglers run up to catch him, as well.
A dog's world in a stone cutting village far way.
He knows they need him.
This simple man. So embedded in their tense lives. He manages them along with happy yelps of gratitude, and full bellies.
Warm fuzziness that stays with them
Lida was born in Inglewood, Ca., and raised in Chatsworth, Ca. She spent her childhood enjoying a good book, drawing, and writing her own stories. Always a quiet student, Lida thrived in the world of Literature and Art.
At age 17, Lida began Journaling, and writing her first drafts of poetry. She graduated from El Camino Real High School, and went on to care for adults and children with disabilities.
Lida continued her love of writing poetry well into her twenties. She began submitting to newspapers, and collections of work.
Her writing career began 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.
STRANGE SHORES
By Anna Mathai
They say peace flows like a river,
So I followed to the line.
They said patience is a virtue,
So I waited for what’s mine.
Filled my cup, a twist of orange,
While a sailor sang the blues
And took a loaf of sweetest bread
Just to slice it for the crew.
Now I’m walking on strange shores,
Wondering am I alive?
Counting sand as it slips away,
Nothing left to mark the time.
Anna Mathai is an Indian-American multidisciplinary artist based in Los Angeles, California. She frequently uses Venetian plaster and other plasters in her work. Her abstract works reference both the natural world and our internal ‘landscapes’ of emotion, blurring both real and intangible. She often touches on concepts of femininity, rebellion, and otherness, with a touch of mysticality, in her figurative work. By pairing her writing with her visual art practice, Mathai creates an extra dimension in which viewers can experience her art and a loose construct to guide their own internal process of understanding. Mathai was born in the UK, but spent most of her childhood in the rural Deep South, which heavily influenced the concepts she explores in her art. Her work has been awarded, published, and exhibited globally. You can find her at www.byMathai.com or on Instagram @byMathai.
protest songs
by jerry the priest
A canyon by a creek, cool and shady, with Mugwort
and blackberries growing amidst sycamore trees
peaceful and serene, exuding compassion and endurance
Autumn chill noticeable
birdsong occasionally filling the air
What next America?
What of your tarnished principles?
In what freedom are we to believe?
Candles flanking a porcelain urn astride a glowing
red white yin yang squeezed between a well-loved guitar
and a vibrant rattlesnake plant on its walnut stand
Dark Autumn skies
the jumbled refrain from a rock n roll LP
Demcocracy has been fumbled badly
tumbleweeds blow across my social calendar
How lonely we all are with our righteous outrage
How divided we’ve become
The chill is noticeable
as protest songs make their way
down sunlit creekbeds
jerry the priest, legal name Jerome Dunn, has been creating material for exhibition, publication and live presentation since 1979, when he studied experimental music at the University of Redlands. A vocal performer since early childhood, his formal study of music began with his first trombone lesson in 1967.
Essays, poems, stories and illustrations have appeared in Coagula Art Journal, La Quadra, the Nervous Breakdown, Bombay Gin and others, and his guitar/vocal/ trombone work and lyrics are featured on Cheap Disaster (’92), Stark Aloe Vera (’95), and Lovely Children (2011).
He’s lived and taught in Katmandu Nepal, Istanbul Turkey, Boston, Massachusetts, Boulder, Colorado, Portland, Oregon, San Francisco/San Leandro/Los Angeles, California, and written in Banaras, Bodhgaya, Konya, Damascus, Petra, Jerusalem, Mexico City, San Cristobal de las Casas, Antigua, Buenos Aires, Seattle, New Orleans, Chicago, Denver, Santa Fe, Bar Harbor, Vancouver, Halifax, Atlanta, Asheville and Manhattan, among other locales.
fierce magical girl
by linda m. crate
i cannot live my life in
the shadow of fear,
i was born a woman so i
know war;
every day there's one
raging against me versus society;
no matter how exhausted
i will press on for my family,
my friends, for myself,
and for those who have either
been silenced or are too afraid
to speak—
i am the witch they will not burn,
always rising from the ashes
like a phoenix;
my flaming feathers will burn
and damn those willing to turn
this beautiful world into
a darker place of nightmares
for i have seen the beauty of this world,
and i know there's a goodness worth fighting for:
i've heard it in a baby's laugh,
seen it in the eyes of my loved ones,
felt it in the song of a crow,
danced with it when i danced in
a creek as crows circled above me,
tasted it in the skin of a cherry—
the world is beautiful, the world is wild,
and the world is fierce; and so i am i.
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 twelve published chapbooks, the latest being: Searching Stained Glass Windows For An Answer (Alien Buddha Publishing, December 2022). Linda has four full length poetry collections and a photography collection book. Linda is also the author of the novellas Mates (Alien Buddha Publishing, March 2022), Managing Magic (Alien Buddha Press, September 2022), and The Queen's Son (Alien Buddha Publishing, December 2023). Her first short story collection King Quinlin (Alien Buddha Publishing, March 2024) was published this spring. Her debut haiku collection in these ancient veins was published earlier this year (Alien Buddha Publishing, May 2024).
Elizabeth Silk, Reading Keats' "To Autumn"
Reading Keats' "To Autumn" aloud
I feel the words - "mellow fruitfulness"
"moss'd cottage trees"
"ripeness to the core"
"swell the gourd" and
"more ... still more"
I feel them in my mouth
pushing out my cheeks
bouncing lightly on my lips
I hear the long O's of mellow, moss'd, core, gourd and
more, more and more
I feel my mouth form an O
like a rooting infant
the earth becomes to me a breast
a mother of some other era
with time
time to lavish her baby
with access to herself
her skin - warmth flesh smell
time to prime herself for feeding
lying abed arms propped with pillows
to support the infant head
time to loll about
sipping lovely milky drinks
slurping juicy fruits
eating honey by the mouthful
the faster to receive its sweetness
the quicker to transform the sweetness
to health and pleasure
pregnant I dreamed my breasts
spurted shining glowing milk
for a new mouth
Elizabeth Silk, after growing up in South Carolina, I spent most of my adult life in New York City and Monterey, Massachusetts. In January, 2021, I settled into a loft apartment in Downtown LA. Having worked for many years, first as an English teacher and later as a psychotherapist, I am relishing this time to make writing - poetry and prose - my priority along with my son and his wife and daughter. A new life in my 80's. I'm grateful for the time and for Linda Kaye and "Poet's Place."
DISILLUSIONED
11-6-24
6:07 a.m
By Mary Cheung
Disillusioned and broken by this thing we call democracy.
replaced by an Olaf,
an orangutan in the white house,
the embodiment of idiocy.
In days to come our air will turn to poison.
Infecting our mind and our hearts.
A country divided, riots on the horizon,
Despair in our thoughts.
I don't feel this great America anymore.
It's feels more like the land of the lost. When a self absorbed,
woman hating thing playing as a man plays God...
How are we not lost?
What's to become of our nation now?
We've given the reigns to a mad man.
To this I can't relate.
How this country made that happen,
Thinking he would make our nation great.
Well buckle up cuz the next 4 years are going to be something.
Lots of upheaval, insanity and hate.
The world divided
and the lost of democracy is at stake.
Because a narcissistic playboy,
playing at dictatorship
was given the keys to power,
Will be running the country again,
All for his own sake.
So I'm disillusioned once again.
For the second time in my life.
Despair, uncertainty and sadness
Colors the world beginning today.
Quashes out blue from our sights
Scarring the world with a red
angry
laser ray…
Mary Cheung is a multi-disciplinary artist. She has been creating art since she was young. Grew up the youngest in a family of eight. She came to America at the age of 2 and grew up in San Francisco. 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. Sometimes building the sets as needed.
Mary was the Producer for the Santa Rosa Spring Festivals 2011 and 2012, which incorporated live performances and festival games.
She produced the EVOLUTION Music and Arts event in 2013.
LUSCIOUS, Music Art, Live Body paint Art Event IN 2014 followed by
OPEN FLOOR IMPROV EXPERIMENT whose purpose was to engage the community, encourage local business growth and artists involvement. 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."
Patterns of Chaos
By Alex S. Johnson
A thumbprint's shadow
containing a
well of
swirling scarlet
cocktail
mix.
Down the drain counterclockwise as
everything goes cattywumpus and
the Devil strides the terra with his long
sharp
Claws.
Our palsied manners twitch and
we flop
sideways
on our backs
or
crawl like worms
To appease the
blackest apple hearted...
The fly bursts its lovely
Head
All glistening emerald eyes
Feelers
A corpsechild's first flowering.
Alex S. Johnson is the author of several books of poetry including THE DEATH JAZZ, SKULL VINYL, THUNDERSTRUCK, SONGS FOR DARK CABARET and DOCTOR THEATER'S KISS. He is disabled and runs Nocturnicorn Books from his home in Carmichael, California. His forthcoming books include THE DEATH JAZZ revised and expanded edition, TWILIGHT OF THE DOOM HIPPIES, and an as-yet untitled full-length Dark Satire/Cyberpunk/Bizarro collection from the publishers of Horror Sleaze Trash.
Sonnet 20
By ChampionElCid
Hope has vanished from this terrible world
Replaced instead by loud and hateful shouts
In just a day our whole future was twirled
And now compassion will suffer a drought
The future now looks dark, grim and hopeless
For soon new laws will rule about our land
These laws will make our country retrogress
And lead to social justice being banned
I shudder at the thought of what may come
I know not how to overcome this loss
I can't seem to feel anything but numb
As I contemplate how to lift this cross
Some say we will survive the storm ahead
If we do, there will still be many dead
ChampionElCid lives in Los Angeles, he currently works four different jobs so he doesn't often have the time he'd like to write. When he was young he read Don Quixote for the first time and that book left an impression on him. He later learned of a real-life Spanish Knight named "El Cid" who embodied many of the ideals that Don Quixote strived for. Thus he decided to take that name when creating a profile on the internet and that name has stuck. You can see more of his poems on Vocal, which would really help him out as he earns money based on how many views his work gets. Thank you for this opportunity, I hope I continue to impress you…
I GOT THE SLIGHTEST TASTE OF GAZA
By Don Kingfisher Campbell
When the roofers came
Walked on my roof
Tore off the old shingles
Hammered in new plywood boards
The next day they returned
Laid down insulation
And proceeded to plug in
The portable air pressure gun
Shot rows of nails into each tile
The noise was like a barrage
Of bullets being fired with
The occasional heavy clunk
Placing more ammo above
I felt assaulted and ran
Outside to escape the war
In my Cube parked at the curb
Unlike the people trapped
In an unrecognized country
Without permission to leave
Denied food and supplies
For uncountable months
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
Tchaikovsky and McDowell: Serenade to the Mustache
By Anna Broome
For: Richard McDowell
There were watchdogs, and a post-Bach
Pre-Chopin world with too much Wagner,
and the Nutcracker in Moscow.
White aprons, carbolic soap, Sulphuric acid, quinine, and a little after three death
Affairs with actors and actresses, advice from Tolstoy to f-u-c-k
every d-i-c-k until the perfect one came along. (Sounds better than it is.)
Bangs and whispers, and the romantic movement
The artist was free.
And on every doorstep a beggar and a patron. And endless cold rain.
And where does McDowell sitting according to him godlike in an easy chair fit in?
And his poems of the past. How things never change. Tradition.
Tchaikovsky would muse. One symphony after another and a consternation of Romeo and Juliet as anything but an Opera. And The Manfred Symphony in B minor with a long adagio subjectiveness was an enigma, a rendering, something to twirl.
What connection can be drawn by one man autonomous and another in every parking lot in downtown LA disguised as a giraffe or a vulture or a box?
Two men...
their love of black swans as tearless women. Must there be more? A coat above the lip? An effortless design with a mind all its own –
A head growing on the inside an integumentary of brilliance;
There is the serenade.
Something in the open air under a lover’s window being touched by his own hand:
One in a crow den in Russia surrounded by feathers and disease, and final notes and the other under a street lamp on 6th street wordless for now.
Is mustache an albatross?
Ask McDowell, who would tie one around his neck if he could.
Anna Broome is a Los Angeles published poet and producer of the monthly free-to-the public performance art show, The Anna Broome Room for the passed ten years and the Solo Concert Series, The Broome Closet. She earned two bachelor’s degrees: Creative Writing, Poetry and English Literature, and Language with an emphasis on British and American Romantic Poetry from the University of North Carolina at Wilmington where studied under Pulitzer Prize for Poetry nominee, Michael White. Her first book of poetry, Orthodox Bats was published in 2019. Her second book, Sex Ed: A Prerequisite at Columbine was published this year by Four Feathers Press. Her first novel, A Full Sun is due out in 2025. And first collection of novellas the following year.
I have changed
By Kellie Strubinski
11/30/2024
The Orange Neon “Book Store Open” sign across from me hasn’t changed.
I have changed.
The world has rotated on its axis in this galaxy 1000 times since I last sat in this old oak chair, at this unpolished oak table, overlooking the wall-to-wall shelves filled tightly with multi colored books eager to be held.
I have rotated within my soul in this mortal body 1000 times since I last heard the silence of the many patrons sprinkled at the tables here, as they all search for momentary salvation.
Even the smell of the books baking in the sunshine that slants through the large windows tastes the same; old crackers left open and alone in the box too long.
Volcanos, storms, ocean waves can’t compare to the change that has happened within my yearning soul that is hungry for love, acceptance, adventure and the illusory promise of eternal life.
Earthquakes, hurricanes and torrential rains can no longer stop me from risking and reaching for the chance to be fully, dangerously alive.
I have changed.
Kellie Strubinski lives in Sierra Madre, CA. She started her poetry writing journey during the pandemic and followed it up with a poetry workshop at Pasadena City College. She finds that poetry helps her to find words for things that she otherwise can't say.
Maggots
By R.G. Carrillo (November 2024)
They got it wrong
Did not understand
The divide
Not just racial
There’s martyrs
On both sides
Rich poor gap
Pro-lifers
Anti-immigrants
Progressives
And traditionalists
Democrats
Who have lost
Their way
Maggots eating
The flesh
Of a dead democracy
Something else
Swept in
To fill the void
A snake oil peddler
Promising greatness
A soulless opportunist
Opening the gates
Of hatred
Blasphemy of justice
Maggots destroying
LIberty
Trumpeters annihilating
The tranquility
Of the nation
Offsetting the blessings
Of our union
The white robes
Have come off
White nationalists
Have a new
Grand wizard
Insanity pours in
Like a hurricane
Hitting D.C.
Ronald G. Carrillo is a native Lincoln Hts Angelino, living in Eagle Rock and a retired LAUSD educator and influencer. He writes of his passion and rebirth into the golden age of living. He has been writing since high school and was initially influenced from the songwriters, Keith Reid, Joni Mitchell, Laura Nyro, Neil Young.
RIGHT
By Mary Frances Spencer
this
pendulum swinging hard
sharply over our heads
yet we chose
some closed eyes rolled dice
half hopeful hearts
not enough
while cold-hard cash
ever elusive to most
rolls into the ever-more
bloated piggybanks
of the few
us minions scramble
and scrape for pennies of survival
we are distracted, stressed
hate intolerance
blatant corruption
shine on that blade
when the cuts begin
we stumble on
until it hurts
eyes bleeding red
minds shocked
maybe, just maybe
we will ALL wake up
and realized
we have been
PLAYED...
Mary Frances Spencer is a local Eagle Rock Yoga Instructor, Bodyworker and Sound Healer. She has been writing poetry for decades, had some work published in Spectrum, online at pathetic.org and self-published a few chapbooks in the 2000's. She is currently writing a meditation/affirmations A-Z book and should have it available in the New Year. She works with political themes, as well as humorous observations of life, peace and love.
Marilyn Fuss
December 2024
Early in the 2024 voting period I deposited my next-door neighbor's ballot which I thought had a high chance of not including the same choice of President as mine, since in my 12 years here, we have never spoken of candidates except for agreeing on a city councilperson once. A lot has been said about the unspoken tension that's proliferated in this century, of differences understood but not touched upon, the holiday table bugaboo, the biting one's tongue. Even more of us need to know that this negative frisson must not be an excuse for a lack of community and communication. I wanted it to be an act of faith in democracy to assist my friend, much as the non-combative mail I sent encouraging voters in other districts and states. They were as candles secured into sands for meditation or prayer. Affirmations, based on action.
After signing the friend's envelope as directed for agent of the voter, I saw that a signature was not where it belonged, and an address in the wrong field. After she corrected those, instead of putting the ballot envelope in the mail, as she modestly requested, as a reflex, I offered to check whether ballot drop boxes were open yet. Learning yes on both counts, I got it to the box at the next neighborhood library, with a better feng shui than ours. This drop box plenitude reflects the extreme privilege of living in Los Angeles, where each uncensored public library has one in front of it, to contrast with many counties which have one box, period. The process described was the same when I voted later on, minus the errors, I hope. Though I missed the ritual of going to the polls with others, before our assortment of choices made that seem like too much effort. And not long after that, of course, I sorely missed election night 16 years ago when we danced for joy-- in my previous next-door neighbors' kitchen.
These thoughts and acts sought to ward off participating in a country where a victor just might win because of electoral college voting crimes and chicanery made possible by the Founding dads, who feared the 'mob' inherent in a popular vote. Along with instilling the 3/5 Compromise and slavery itself, they cheapened our country's first years, and leaned the aspiring democracy toward hypocrisy. Since the Civil War and through the 20th Century, however, the most earnest presidents, legislators, and courts succeeded in repairing many errors and enabling more rights. Through that century I was born into, the virtues of a two-/multi- party system was touted with pride, at least modeling friendship between members of opposite parties, and showing appreciation for the ideal of the loyal opposition, who could step in to correct their own as well as the other faction, and yet be heard. They were folks like President Eisenhower, who could initiate the term "military-industrial complex" even as he had once been at the helm of the first component. Or Howard Baker and Barry Goldwater in the matter of Richard Nixon's obstruction of justice and cover-up. We listened to them, Nixon's peers.
Inclusive rights, expansive justice, and civility have been harshly interrupted in this century by an obstructionist Supreme Court and Congress, and now a returning President promising to unravel the Constitution. This 2020 pretender to the office of president asked a voting official in Georgia to conjure up 11,780 votes to reverse the state's presidential election outcome. He is on ubiquitous media record as instigating a coup d'état countering that national election, with calls to hang (with ready-made gibbet) the official whose job it was to make public the actual results. That was Vice President Pence, whose dogged service never failed his master in the course of an entire term of office, almost. Murderous opposition from a leader! The servile Veep became a true American hero when called upon to validate the votes as counted. We deserve to live in a time when Pence's courageous act gets its full recognition. Likewise an age when the acts of treason and endangerment by an outgoing leader should receive due retribution, rather than re-election. Caring more for justice than for holding office were truth-sayers Liz Cheney, Thompson, Kinzinger, Raskin, Schiff, Lofgren, Aguilar, Murphy. Luria, Romney, for a start. They were examples to be emulated. There just weren't enough citizens who were willing to listen to them, even as some of those lawmakers without precedent voted for those in another political party, and for democracy, in November of 2024.
Marilyn Fuss has spent most of her life in Los Angeles, and is a lover of the environment, natural and created, as well a being a self-described art fly.
Justice, other humans, and pets are important to her.
Thank you for joining us! We will continue to host writers and poets of all genres.
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.
Linda’s poetry events have included several summer poetry salons, and shows at 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/