The shortest walk.

Today, we marched. It is the day before my birthday, 29 if you are curious, and the day that marks the 5 year mark of the occupation. See earlier post for more on that.

This was the first time the Franklins, as a family unit, were involved with a protest and it draws many feelings of joy and hope from deep within me. Before Angela and I were together, we were both very active in actions of dissent.


This is Angela at the WTO protest in Seattle.

here I am on your left at the 2003 SF war protest with brokenPOETspoken.

Since we have gotten together though, our activism slowed down. Sure we wrote poems and read them to each other and a few friends (Beat Revivalists be heard and counted!) but beyond that, we settled into being parents first, artists second, and made no room for active resistance. Coupling the slowing down of our own activism was a sense of entrapment in our lives.

Our communication broke down to basic necessity and we could feel ourselves drifting apart slowly and had no clue as to where the crack began. Then, as if awoken from a comfortable sleep, we were thrust back into action. It all just started turning again, these wheels of resistance, and with them, our relationship began to regrow. We were missing a vital part of who we are.

I have seen this happen in hundreds of relationships, specifically so with otherwise creative people. There is a comfort of sorts that settles into people when they are in a secure relationship, and of that comfort, apathy is born. We have all had those good friends who rock the fucking dance floor and talk all night over coffee, contemplating jazz and ginsberg, who once shacked up, disappear. We blame the lover, blame the friend, blame ourselves for their absence, and make claims that it will never be us. Well, it will, if you don't hold onto yourself in the building of your family. Since Angela and I have re-activated our spirit, our relationship is sailing along smoother than ever. Still a few fucked up mornings when one of us ants nothing to do with the other's shit, but it passes over coffee and a smoke and we move on, with purpose.

I began working at Black Bear Bakery, a worker-owned anarchist bakery, where I dedicate a bulk of my time. Angela is having to take on school and full time with the kids alone while I am at work from early morning and not returning until the kids are ready for bed. This means we all work for the black bear collective, not just myself.

I started the Crowded Fire, in St. Charles and Angela helped with flyering and gave her unmatched support in all that I wanted to do. We have both been featured on Marty Owings' Radio Free Nation, and I continue to be a regular once a week on a show Marty and I developed, which Angela is a large help in keeping the kiddos busy while dad yells at republicans for two hours every saturday (at least the ones I remember to call in for, sorry Marty). Along with that I am compiling interviews every chance I get, so far with Norman Finkelstein, Watermelon Slim and the Workers, The Mischievous Gnome Collective, and coming up on Noam Chomsky and Arun Gandhi. We are also working side by side on sticks&stones books, our anarchist bookstore. We are trying to do a lot, not just for our own spirits, but for the sake of our children. We need them to be raised in an environment that is conducive to freedom and arm them with some of the tools they will need to fight their own wars against wars.

Soon David Rovics will be blessing Saint Charles with his music, and we will have a night to dance and sing and celebrate together.

Today we marched.



Angela is not in any of the pictures because she is behind the camera. Here is a video someone shot of the day. Notice Whitman at around 2:28. He was a real hit, no pun intended, when he banged the circle A drum.