I would say that my most important mentor thus far has been Martín Espada. He is far and away the most clear and steadfast example on why we must continue writing, how the successful writer must always be guided by principle, by comunidad. His friendship and leadership have proven invaluable to me and to his many brilliant students. The literary world is littered with too many established writers who make it a habit to "piss on the shoes of their disciples," (to quote the poet), and Martín is a much-needed oasis from that nonsense.

My creative influences are varied: Willie Perdomo taught me to be fearless in my use of language. Miles Davis and James Baldwin taught me that I must always keep it new. La Lupe and Celia Cruz keep my art unapologetic. Espada, Neruda and Mistral remind me that my writing can be historic. Chuck Close and Compay Segundo taught me persistence. The poets of Acentos and louderARTS are my backbone. My parents have supported me 1000% (even when they didn't know why). And I must say, there is no greater reminder of work ethic than when you are the daily recipient of love, spirit, and support from another poet: in my case, my amazing partner, Ms. Tara Betts.

How would you describe the significance of spoken word and slam poetry, compared to more 'traditional' forms?

I came from it. I think it's a great starting place for young poets. (Emphasis on STARTING.) I hate what it's become. But let me first speak to the tradition question.

Another poet, John Rodriguez, brought this point up the other night at an Acentos reading. Those of us Latino/a poets who come from spoken word and slam come from the tradition of hearing poems, more than we do from reading text. This is not to say we are not well read, or that we can't craft a decent poem on a piece of paper. For us, the poem is a communal experience, a shout, a humanizing music that needs to be heard out loud. In New York, this is nothing new. The "slam and spoken word tradition," so to speak, is significant in that it's really a Puertorriqueño tradition, an African-American tradition, the Nuyoricans, the Black Arts movement, and the tradition of much of Latin America. Spoken word and slam thus hearken back to poetry's root orality, a root unbroken since the Sumerians, yet one which we've forgotten somewhere along the line.

Many slam poets have gone on to careers in academia, bohemia, and back. Many do cutting-edge work with music, or work in the genres of sound poetry. And a few have even made viable careers out of being spoken word artists. It's fair to say that spoken word and slam serve well as breeding grounds for talent that wouldn't have come to poetry any other way but through the ear.