Hollywood Fringe Profile: The Poetry Store

Need to kill some time between shows at the Fringe? You can always order up some thoughtful imagery from the Poetry Store located at a TV tray and folding chair in the ArtWorks parking lot.

I met the store’s proprietor, Brian Sonia-Wallace, last night as I waited for the start of a 10:30pm show. He helped me place my order by requesting a theme. Since my brother arrives tomorrow from NYC and he’s staying with me, I offered the theme of “a really messy house.”

And then I stood there and watched the artist work as he hammered out my poem on a 1940s Smith-Corona manual type-writer. People gathering for shows smiled as they walked by, watching us.

“Yes,” I said to them. “This handsome, young man is writing a poem. For me.”

Of course, I intended to pay him. His sign reads, “Pay me what you think it’s worth.” It’s not like I’m anyone’s muse here. This is what it’s come to. Please don’t tell my mom.

A seasoned Poetry Store manager, Sonia-Wallace describes himself as a writer, director, poet, activist…he’s an artist. He creates his poems on demand through a combination of the suggested theme, the person requesting it and his own artistic wheels bridging the gaps.

“I’d love to put together an anthology/ethnography of the people of LA through poems,” he describes the body of work he’s accumulated. “Because what I really do is become a bit of a fortune teller. People are always amazed at what comes out of the poem and relates to them.”

The Poetry Store will be open in the ArtWorks parking lot for the rest of the Fringe. You might catch him (or other Poetry Store guerrillas) throughout LA in unexpected places. He also plans on setting up shop at the upcoming uber-hip annual arts party Fool Fest for the Rogue Artists Ensemble on July 20th.

As I waited for my poem to be written, I listened to that now rare sound of a manual typewriter clicking away and pausing for thought. Watching an artist work. How do I put a price tag on that?

When the poem was done, he read it to me. I was slightly blown away. I was expecting maybe three lines of silliness. But that is not what I got. And it was perfectly laid out on a small rectangle of paper. It was beautiful.

I gave him all the cash I had left. $10. And I love my new poem. Money well spent. Check it out…



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