SIDEWAYS EIGHT PROJECTS

“A train is a poem that will take you anywhere you want to go.”

— Dale Maharidge

We’ll see when we get there.

I’ve summoned the spirit of Mr. Mark Twain

and asked him kindly to speak through me.

He obliged despite pain in boarding this train,

such that you’ll hear enough to plainly see.

Using satire powerful men dismissed as rubbish,

I commented on politics and the inner steeple.

Requiring a centennial before my biography’s publish,

for I spoke boldly about country and people.

The increments of money and stocks may have changed,

The alibis may have gotten somewhat more sophisticated,

But people nowadays and back in the day can be equally deranged,

And onlookers, not in the arena, are basically  just as jaded.

The stories we used to print in the papers

could’ve been set in present hours, dropped in one of three individually labeled jars:

Stretchers , Lifters, and Powder Burners.

Same as contemporary drama and capers,

innocent folks suffering behind, unable to see the stars, and free folks in power who should be behind bars,

though they’re no longer page turners.

They’re keep swiping and doom scrolling now, deep griping and trolling vows, 

which at one point we thought of as sacred.

How did we get here?

How will we make it?

We will make it by remembering what was left behind, how we got here in the first place, by helping to walk each other home, engaging in the art form of neighborliness and closing our eyes to better hear the music.

We will make it by visiting the reserved table, off to the side, after the performance to tell the artist what they meant on that particular evening, in that beautiful neck of the nostalgic woods. A surprise opener who changed the entire trajectory of a weary traveler’s life for the ever loving better on a chilly night in Carson.

We will make it by seeing how small the world can really be with an ever expanding sense of wonder, allowing perfect timing to wash over us when it happens. 

By spending less time in comments sections and more time in handshakes and hugs.

We will make it by singing along, holding our children close, laughing as often as possible and taking trips back in time to when we thought times were simpler in order to gain proper perspective. 

By supporting our friends, chosen family and the wild dreams they have to change the world for the better. 

By hearing each other, seeing each other, praying for each other and at least trying to fully understand. 

By more often noticing the morning sun piercing the veil of fog lifting over our mystic lakes and that tableau of quilted color, gently pulling us with a cosmic creativity, beckoning us to still believe.

By remaining awestruck beneath the night sky as it has a magical way of weighing our worries and leaving us with a lavishly legendary and liberating lightness of being. 

My name is Samuel Langhorne Clemens.

I was born November 30, 1835 and raised in the Show Me state. Known by the pen name Mark Twain, and before I went on to the next plane of existence on April 21, 1910, I traveled far and wide and wrote a fair amount about the people, places and things which were able to show me a thing or two. 

And I came back, at this uniquely special and inspiringly irreplaceable moment in time to tell you we’re all aboard this train together. Bound forever by time and space, headed for an unknown future, able to reminisce and enjoy a comfortable silence now and again. To enjoy each other more often than not, and to be grateful always in all ways. I’m still writing these days about everything I’ve encountered since you last knew me here. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but you can read about all of it someday when the time is right and you get the pleasure of seeing it for yourselves. 

Whether ‘tis in the papers or across the screens, remember to listen to the good news. Remember the dreams you once had and become the person who would’ve saved you as a child. Remember everything you truly and deeply need in order to forget the rest, but don’t forget to rest.

All aboard. All present and accounted for. All heading down the tracks thinking about what was before, what is now and what’s in store.

Hold on to your dessert forks. Better is on the way. Let’s help one another get home safely as best we can and save each other’s day, daring the impossible to believe in us. Show me what you’re made of. Equal parts childish wonder, star dust, spinning yarns and good news I reckon.

We will make it.

We’ve got to.

I’ll see you when you get there. 

What makes me feel________?

1. Angry
2. Frustrated
3. Sad
4. Helpless
5. Frantic
6. Anxious
7. Isolated
8. Imprisoned 
9. Hopeless
10. Apathetic 

Psalm 56:8 

You have kept count of my tossings;

    put my tears in your bottle.

    Are they not in your record?

1:34am awake to pray after staying up late to write

Given the title to put a bow on this rhyme

fasting for gain, casting out pain in this plight

Father you have in hand our treasure, talent and time

As we toss and turn in our beds

awakened at all hours of the night

turmoil dancing in our weary heads

a moment from giving up the fight

Others pray and suggest the oughts 

while the pain persists of unknown cause

the test results side with the have nots

avoiding bright lights and loud applause

Differences in meals, meds and procedures

trying everything under the sun and over the moon

The world offers its help but we believe yours

we need complete healing extremely soon

Like now, like right now, give us this testimony 

give us a reason never to doubt  but always endure

I don’t want my beloved daughter tested for me

I want her done with this tour, abundantly sure

I will be as persistent as the widow

Remind you she doesn’t deserve the thorn in Paul’s side to persist

She has the childlike faith of a kid though

wisdom beyond her years and I’m pissed

She’s learned that you’re in charge

she’s accepted the surrender as humbled

She has her arms opened wide and large

you’ve helped her rise whenever she’s stumbled

It is a tired and longing soul pleading you

from the frazzled end of my series of days

Everyone filling this room is needing you

so I’ll raise a hallelujah and hear me some praise

Fix this Lord as only you are able and can

give us a diamond in the rough and a win

continued suffering shouldn’t be the plan

you’ve overcome death and conquered sin

Bring transference of this pain to the stones in the Truckee

let them be baptized by the waters of the river themselves 

As we give gratitude counted among the favored and lucky

to be written in the book of life on your shelf

For even those stones can be made anew

if you say it then I know it will be

You once took my heart given to you

softened it and then set it free

I’ll pray and attempt to bless you in all ways

sing and dance as best as I can

break these chains, lighten and brighten her days

bring solid rest in the night as your plan

Are we not all in your record? In your thoughts? 

Do you not want your children to be blessed?

Let wickedness fade while evil rots

we will soar by your wings above this mess

Surely the one who placed the many flowers

in the meadows of the mountains across earth

has the uniquely special and needed powers

to demonstrate his own daughters worth

Be with us in this Lord and fully remove

the suffering and the angst and the pain

I’m asking the one with nothing to prove

to show up, show out, and of course remain

She needs you, I need you, we need you

let any and all hesitation disappear 

for I’ll cry, fight, run, climb and bleed to

fully rest in having both her and you near

And now that you’re among us and within us

we the church gathered in your picturesque frame

continue to begin us again and win us

to you in Jesus most holy and precious name

♾️♾️♾️♾️

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Finished Wednesday 9/24/25 by JJZ

Sapphire Jazz Ensemble Piece

The Negro Speaks of Rivers- Jesse

Mother To Son- Kashae 

Sapphire Jazz Ensemble Piece

The Weary Blues – Jesse

My People – Kashae 

Laughter – Kashae

Sapphire Jazz Ensemble Piece

I Dream A World- Kashae

Poem (To F.S) – Jesse

Sapphire Jazz Ensemble Piece

Life Is Fine – Kashae

Sapphire Jazz Ensemble Piece

Same In Blues – Jesse

Harlem – Jesse

Sapphire Jazz Ensemble Piece

I Too – Together

Sapphire Jazz Ensemble Piece

Poets In The Round Bios

Dani Putney

Dani Putney is a queer, non-binary, mixed-race Filipinx, & neurodivergent writer originally from Sacramento, California. They’re the author of Mix-Mix (Baobab Press, 2025)

& Salamat sa Intersectionality (Okay Donkey Press, 2021), finalist for the Lambda Literary Award in Transgender Poetry. They’re also the author of the poetry chapbook Dela Torre (Sundress Publications, 2022) & the creative nonfiction chapbook Swallow Whole (Bullshit Press, 2024), & they’ve received support for their work from the Nevada Arts Council, Mendocino Coast Writers’ Conference, & Association of Writers & Writing Programs.

Their poetry appears in outlets such as Bennington Review, Cream City Review, Foglifter, Grist, Hayden’s Ferry Review, & Puerto del Sol, among others, while their creative nonfiction can be found in journals such as Crab Creek Review, Glassworks Magazine, Quarterly West, & So to Speak, among others. In May of this year they were a spotlight feature artist, sharing an extended set from their most recent book release with Monday Night Poetry as well as the featured poet of study for May of 2025 in the Collective Breath Poetry Book Club. They received their PhD in English from Oklahoma State University & MFA in Creative Writing from Mississippi University for Women. They live in Reno, Nevada.

Courtney Kelly

Courtney Kelly is a queer educator and writer based in Northern Nevada. She is a regular poet at Monday Night Poetry. Her poetry has featured at the Utah Arts Festival, She’s On Fire Art and Music Festival, Nevada Humanities Literary Crawl, Dinner for the Revolution, and Radical Cat Grand Reopening. She is the founder of Reno’s Generative Poetry Workshop and co-founder of the Queerest Little Bookclub and has volunteered as a judge for the Washoe County Poetry Out Loud semi-finals since 2024. She was hired as the editor for “The Illusion of Choice” the debut choose your own adventure poetry book by M. Colton Brodeur  published in 2024.

Iain Watson

Iain is the Founder of Spoken Views Collective (2006) Which is the longest standing, continuously running spoken word and written word poetry organization outside of Las Vegas in the entire state of Nevada. He is a governing member of the Reno Arts and Culture Commission as well as the Nevada Poetry Society in addition to being a public educator in the Washoe County School system of many years. He is the special event touring acts booking agent and promotional organizer for, as well as co-founder of, Monday Night Poetry. He was the opener and host of the world premiere for Insomnia, a spoken word play written by season 15 winner of AGT Brandon Leake. He is a local DJ and Photographer in addition to being a proud cat Dad and Husband to Jamie. Godfather to the spoken word scene in the Biggest Little City. 

Griffin Peralta

Griffin is a Spoken Word Poet, Public Educator, and radio host. He grew up in Reno, Nevada (Reno did most of the growing). He hopes to support his community in any way he can.

Griffin is a 4 time poetry slam champion, taking the title in both Reno and Tahoe.

He teaches English Language Arts  in Washoe County, receiving the Outstanding Educator Award and a commendation from Senator Catherine Cortez Masto in 2018.

Griffin is a long time member of the Spoken Views Poetry Collective, working with the group to create, promote, and perform poetry in Northern Nevada.

Nikki Leialohalani Herschend

Nikki Herschend is a spoken word poet, writer, and performer whose work explores trauma, resilience, political defiance, and ancestral legacy. Drawing from a rich blend of personal experience and cultural heritage, Nikki crafts emotionally charged, rhythmically driven poetry that speaks truth to power and reclaims voice in the face of silence. Their performances are known for their intensity, vulnerability, and unflinching honesty—whether confronting domestic violence, imperialism, or the complexities of identity.

Nikki’s poetry has been featured in competitions, community events, and activist circles including the annual She’s On Fire Festival here in Reno. Their current body of work includes a three-part series on survival and reclamation, as well as pieces that challenge colonial narratives and honor ancestral strength. Nikki’s debut chapbook, She Didn’t Know She’d Live Again, is forthcoming. Nikki is passionate about using language as a tool for liberation and connection.

Michelle Meyers

MICHELLE is an award-winning poet, community activist, and educator. As a founding member of the Asian American female spoken word poetry group Yellow Rage, she was one of the first Asian American women to appear on HBO’s Russell Simmons Presents Def Poetry; in the first live Def Poetry Jam show presented at the 2001 HBO U.S.

Comedy Arts Festival in Aspen, Colorado; and in the Def Poetry Jam College Tour. For over 20 years, Michelle has featured at hundreds of college campuses as well as at many distinguished venues around the country, including the Kennedy Center, BAMcafé, Bowery Poetry Club, Asian American Writers Workshop, Sierra Arts Foundation, Japanese American National Museum, and the Wing Luke Museum of the Asian Pacific American Experience.

Employing multiple poetic forms and delivery styles-including narrative, folk arts/storytelling, hip-hop-influenced rhyme, and song-Michelle attempts to employ the raw and intimate power of spoken word poetry in the hopes of taking audiences on an unforgettable journey that educates, challenges, and inspires.

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“I wish for a heart you can see straight through, for a voice

that glows in the dark, and a few really good friends to say, That’s the way to go?”

– Andrea Gibson

“I have never met a heavy heart that wasn’t a phone booth with a red cape inside. Some people will wever understand the kind of superpower it takes for some people to just walk outside. Some days I know my smile looks like the gutter of a falling house, But my hands are always holding tight to the ripchord of believing.”

– Andrea Gibson