Madison Shumway
Life Editor
Stepping onto a raised stage and pulling a microphone to his lips, Rudy Francisco smiled.
“Can I move down there?” he asked, sauntering to the carpet just a few feet from the front row. “I want to be closer to the people.”
The San Diego-based spoken word poet was in town for one night to perform in front of a gaggle of Pocatello fans who expressed surprise—why is Rudy Francisco stopping in Pocatello?
0To celebrate the occasion, the poet’s arrival serendipitously coinciding with Black History Month, the Diversity Resource Center hosted a poetry slam of its own.
Reciting original poetry and the work of famous black poets like Gwendolyn Brooks and Mutaburuka, readers celebrated black art and the spoken word tradition.
“We know the difference between a good preacher and a bad preacher is how they speak,” said Associate Director of Equal Opportunity Henry Evans while introducing the event. “Words matter, and what you say and how you say it matters. “These poems connect us to a mythic past when we understood ourselves.”
Rudy Francisco played the role of a good preacher the next evening under the bright lighting of the Wood River room, encouraging his audience to respond to his poems with “ooh”s and “mm”s and “amen”s.
“If you’re ready for the poem,” he said before beginning each piece, “say ‘Let’s go!’”
“Let’s go!” responded a chorus.
Leaning into the mic, Francisco recounted his journey from shy kid to spoken word artist, then from data-oriented PhD student to full-time poet. In addition to launching well-attended nationwide poetry tours, Francisco has penned four books and received multiple prestigious awards, including the title of World Poetry Slam Slam Champion.
Surrounded by Idahoan fans, the poet prefaced pieces with stories, weaving tales about first crushes and family and awkward performances. His poems explored such varied topics as love, tragedy, masculinity and heartbreak.
“How about a love poem? How many of y’all are in love? Raise your hands,” he instructed before beginning “Love Poem Medley.”
Next came the sometimes-bitter, always-earnest “10 Things I Would Like to Say to my Ex-Girlfriend / Scars / To the New Boyfriend,” an angry post-breakup poem that drew plenty of “yes!”s and snaps from the audience.
“Don’t date poets,” Francisco advised. “It’s a bad idea.”
At the more intimate poetry slam the night before, ISU student Kiki Peoples performed a love poem of her own.
Written with another anonymous poet, “Melanin, Melanin Monroe” celebrated her own black beauty. As she read, she focused individually on each of her body parts from her “nappy curls” to her “cocoa skin.”
“All of that summed up makes every woman a queen,” she said.
Those not armed with an original poem could pick from printed-out pieces by prominent black poets. Others read favorites from phone screens. Among the chosen poems were Nikki Giovanni’s “Love Is,” Gwendolyn Brooks’ “We Real Cool,” and lyrics from Rudy Ray Moore’s “Signifying Monkey.”
Tavonte’ Bo Jackson, an ISU student, performed a poem of his own, a rhythmic rhyming piece “about my life and my faith and my journey to my authentic self.”
Exploring his upbringing and faith, Jackson reached an inspiring conclusion that prompted enthusiastic “ooh!”s and snapping from listeners.
“Happiness is temporary,” he said, “but joy is forever.”
The next night, fans reveled in Francisco’s hypnotic rhythm.
After performing several poems from memory, he asked if anyone in the audience had a copy of his most recent book, “Helium.”
Jennifer Acosta, a longtime fan, raised the turquoise volume in the air. Walking to the front of the room, she handed Francisco her copy, from which he read the poems that rounded out the evening.
Acosta’s a Francisco aficionado. She owns all four of his books and attended a performance in San Diego while she was on vacation six years ago, discovering a long-lasting love for his poetry.
“It doesn’t have a filter,” she said. “There are things that aren’t talked about—politics, sex, abuse—and he says the things people want to talk about.”
Flipping through Acosta’s copy of “Helium,” Francisco read four final poems: “Ouch,” “Alternatives to the Word ‘Bae,’” “Mercy” and “Liberty.”
“In 1983,” the poem begins, “illusionist David Copperfield made the Statue of Liberty disappear.”
This last piece hearkened back to an original poem read the previous evening by Bri Haliburton, who helped organize the DRC poetry slam.
Her poem “Pray For Me,” written in the midst of the 2016 presidential election, used the iconic American monument to ground themes of autonomy and oppression.
“Please pray for me, your Lady Liberty,” the poem concludes.
It was only fitting that Francisco ended his performance with a similar message.
“I think about how this magic trick has become too familiar,” he said. “Liberty just vanishing without any explanations.”
