Hyena Culture is dedicated to supporting artists of all disciplines. The Seattle Writers Series invites writers, poets, and spoken word artists to showcase their work downtown in Pioneer Square in an intimate cocktail lounge style setting.
Nikkita Oliver is the second featured artist joining Hyena Culture to share her first publication "pebbles in my shoes"
She will also be joined by a few special guests.
Nikkita Oliver is a Seattle-based creative, community organizer, abolitionist, educator, and attorney.
Working at the intersections of arts, law, education, and community organizing she strives to create experiences which draw us closer to our humanity. Her work asks us to engage what we see happening now and to imagine what we hope to see in the future.
As a poet, musician and teaching artist she aims to cultivate spaces where community can explore our creative gifts and discover our personal and collective power to build the world we most need to see.
The whole book is powerful, moving, clever, and extraordinarily relevant and relatable at the same time. Oh and it makes me double take and triple take and be like "I didn't know words could be used like that!" The bricklayers piece.... its a new resilience practice for me to read it when shit feels shit. Because it gives me hope in transformation.
I just finished the book and am in awe of how powerful your poetry is. "Dear Charleena," was heartbreaking and poignant, especially given the local context. I am currently working for Shaun Scott's City Council campaign for District 4, which is where she lived, and I am going to share the poem with him. A few of my other favorites were "Before You Date Me" (I think I've seen you perform this one), "passing," and "Tree to the Bird." The line from "Tree to the Bird" that goes "and I realize / Love does not ask / For what you cannot give / It gives what you cannot ask" was a touching articulation.
For me, your words held on to the page the way a close group of friends hold on to a good view of a sunset. The blocks of letters pull the outside in and the inside out, urgently folding and unfolding history, sculpting intimacy, family and politics into scenes that open up space for readers to re-visit what's happening both inside themselves and out in the street. As a form, I don't think poetry has a responsibility speak with the force or clarity of "pebbles in my shoes." I'm grateful you guided the language to a place of both healing and action.
