Firstborn and I headed out to the Garden early this morning to get in line for the annual Knicks Poetry Slam auditions. When we got there, they were moving participants in, twenty at a time. It was terrific so many young poets out and about, eager to share the words, eager to lift their voices. A lot of supportive folk were out, taking pix and offering encouraging words. I saw one father coaching his son like he was Ali heading out for a fight. I have *Ali Rap* on the brain today... it was the line thing I saw before I fell asleep. I forgot how much of a poet he was, within and beyond the ring. Babygirl made Mama proud. Present and accounted for, definitely representing. Now I'm heading out for some tea and mo' poetry. Can't think of a better way for this week to end.