by Alexis Mercedes
Spaces; the places we create to make art; curated words printed and bound in a book; our 
desire to feel art, whether it be of personal demons expelled or vulnerabilities shown; our desire to allow our own art to be felt by those who appreciate and support it—these are a few things I considered while I sat on the stone bench to listen to our readers at Brasil, shivering a bit but in the company of a few good friends, a life-saving leather jacket, and a Shiner.
It was December 4th, 2018, a Tuesday, the night of our launch party for Volume 21—a volume we had been carefully building ever since the submissions started rolling in from March to October. We invited local writers published in our volume to read their work and in the second half of the night, featured Glass Mountain editors who are graduating this December. I reflected on how my poetry team had gotten together during the fall semester to discuss the poetry that grabbed us and how we had three-hour discussions on what it meant for us to publish poetry we loved, the pieces that meant something special for our current moment, and shed light on emerging writers. I remembered when, just weeks before, the upper editors met to sequence and proofread the volume, synthesizing the flow from piece to piece and correcting minute details. This night was the culmination and celebration of that work.
When the light on the stage shined over the heads of the readers, I felt that familiar excitement at hearing a live performance from someone I admire. I saw the table where our printed volumes lay, beauties of their own, and I was increasingly enthused to hear our chosen readers read not only what is now in print, but the other gems they had unearthed within themselves in their writing. I don’t always understand the mysterious effects of spoken art, the way words curve through the brain, raise bumps on the surface of the skin, calm the mind or engage it with philosophical thought, but I know the beautiful way it feels and here again, I had the privilege of letting the experience wash over me as they spoke. Their words were now living in our space, on the back patio of Brasil! And my fellow editors—those I’m lucky enough to call my friends—told their own stories, gave pieces of themselves onstage, and by the sheer act of being brave enough to share their own work, gave someone somewhere in the audience permission to speak or write their own truth. These readings invigorate my love of our community and what it means to be thriving in a space where we feel free to create and express our art.
It’s really all just like this: do you know what it feels like to know somebody believes in you? It’s pure buoyancy. Akin to the ecstatic relief and safety when someone tells you they love you. That’s what that night felt like and how I want every volume launch party to feel. Keep creating, keep writing, let us keep drinking in your words and please—let us applaud every time you speak. We have a space for you.
