Jerusalem of Softest Sidewalks: Moriel Rothman’s Solo Spoken Word Show

On Wednesday, February 26th, I had the honor and privilege of doing a one-hour solo spoken word performance at the Willy Brandt Center in Jerusalem. It was an incredible experience for me: although I’d performed most of the pieces in various contexts before, I’d never done more than one or two poems at a time. I was so lucky to have many dear friends, colleagues, folks and family members there with me. With that: there were also so many dear friends, colleagues, folks and family members who would have liked to have come, but couldn’t (whether because of busyness, borders, geography or any other one of a million potential preventative reasons). I generally feel pretty positively towards technology and the interwebs; tonight, I am full-out grateful. I’m thrilled to present, here on the blob, an abridged (just a bit of chatter cut (fear not: still plenty of chatter) version of my first ever solo spoken word show, complete with 13.25 poems, a few stories, reflections, and a lot of my soul. With no further ado or atype:

And an authoritative history of spoken word poetry, dating back to the times of the dinosaurs: 

And my own history with spoken word poetry, the first spoken word poem I ever wrote, in 2010, about an experience I had while living in the village of Deir al-Assad: 

Before going deeper into the politics of here, a tribute to my hometown, Yellow Springs, Ohio: 

Lest I be accused of being hard on this place, but easy on the land in which I was raised, America: 

Getting from America to Silwan (not a poem): 

Silwan, November 27, 2011: 

About the Silwan campaign (on the power of words (not a poem)): 

And for a change of pace, Bitcoin – A Poemic Polemic: 

On the transition from- and the connection between- seriousness and silliness (not a poem): 


A story about a moment in Susiya, about Levinas, about eyes, and about refusing to enlist in the army (not a poem): 

A Short & Dweeby Poem Before I Refuse to Enlist in the Army: 

Moving from jail back to poetry (not a poem): 

Jail 6 כלא: 

On Aikido (not a poem): 

On language(s) and the small oppressions that make up the occupation (not a poem): 

El Hakawati: 

Hebrew Poem: אני מאמין (בשמאלנות) يالا: 


And finally, last but certainly, shmeagoly not least: Jerusalem: 

Thank you.