Hello friends,
I just want to let you know that I have migrated my blog to deliciousginger.wordpress.com.
Please join me there for new poems, a new look, and maybe even a new outlook...
Thanks for reading,
Cathleen
28 November 2009
08 November 2009
re-vision-ing
I have been thinking a lot lately about what makes a good blog (mostly because of our new work blog, which I've been maintaining), and I realized that I wouldn't want to read this one very much because there's usually nothing happening. I know that there's very little happening here because I've been thinking about a lot of other things besides poetry lately. In fact, I haven't been doing a whole lot of writing, which always makes me feel as if I am failing myself. It's a whole lot more complex than that, though. The creative process encompasses much more than these moments of actual creating, whether it is writing a poem or making a painting or forming some other object.
I have been involved in the creative process of my life--trying to figure out what I'm doing here. It's been interesting, but has definitely kept me from writing about writing. So, I have decided to broaden my scope on delicious ginger to talk about the rest of life too. 'Cause, damn, it's been pretty rich lately...
I have been studying herbalism with Maia Toll, which has been opening up some new windows and doors for me. I've been making a garden at my house, which has finally (after two years) allowed me to consider this my home (good thing, too, since I don't have another home...). I've been learning how to bake gluten-free--something that kind of rocked my world to begin with, but I think it's turning out to be pretty amazing. I've been thinking about the gifts life has been offering me and how to make the best use of all that juicy energy. Basically, I've been moving into each moment more fully, and embracing (as best I can) what I am faced with as I navigate the world.
In all of this transition and shifting, I have been working on feeling more connected to my poetic voice and my living in each moment voice. That has been fantastic. I did even manage to get a poem to paper yesterday, and so here it is for your perusal (with, as always, wonky spacing):
Delicate florescence
I have been involved in the creative process of my life--trying to figure out what I'm doing here. It's been interesting, but has definitely kept me from writing about writing. So, I have decided to broaden my scope on delicious ginger to talk about the rest of life too. 'Cause, damn, it's been pretty rich lately...
I have been studying herbalism with Maia Toll, which has been opening up some new windows and doors for me. I've been making a garden at my house, which has finally (after two years) allowed me to consider this my home (good thing, too, since I don't have another home...). I've been learning how to bake gluten-free--something that kind of rocked my world to begin with, but I think it's turning out to be pretty amazing. I've been thinking about the gifts life has been offering me and how to make the best use of all that juicy energy. Basically, I've been moving into each moment more fully, and embracing (as best I can) what I am faced with as I navigate the world.
In all of this transition and shifting, I have been working on feeling more connected to my poetic voice and my living in each moment voice. That has been fantastic. I did even manage to get a poem to paper yesterday, and so here it is for your perusal (with, as always, wonky spacing):
Delicate florescence
the rust sticking--
draft version
of shedding your skin
the burn and rub
brush of sand-knee-hand
pocket of stones
your hand in my pocket
boys blush
the hurricane
moves ground
see stars through rain clouds
our efforts to outline
what this is about
this gasping accumulation
Oh, how the wind braces
standing naked
all handles and screws--
all fear and abandon--
holding a spectrum spread wide
draft version
of shedding your skin
the burn and rub
brush of sand-knee-hand
pocket of stones
your hand in my pocket
boys blush
the hurricane
moves ground
see stars through rain clouds
our efforts to outline
what this is about
this gasping accumulation
Oh, how the wind braces
standing naked
all handles and screws--
all fear and abandon--
holding a spectrum spread wide
22 August 2009
Collaborative ventures
I have been thinking a lot about collaboration lately, in part as a way to justify my thieving of others' language, but also as a practical phenomenon. I have always enjoyed working with other artists and writers to stretch my own comfort zone, to rejuvenate my practice of writing and art-making, and to get to know others' work intimately--from the inside out. It's a way to transcend one's own limits, and to find new ways of expression. This has been a major part of my practice since I started creating as an adult. I used to worry that I needed collaboration because I didn't have enough knowledge or skill or cleverness (or whatever) to make art out of my own inventive mind, but now I see this form of practice as serious risk-taking. It would be easy to stay within the boundaries that I create or learn--in fact, I love creating formal structures as a way to limit my language--but what fun to get messy and maybe fall flat on my face with someone else!
I do this with other writers' work all the time (without their knowledge, usually). I have been scanning some old visual pieces to send to Christophe Casamassima, which got me thinking about appropriation as collaboration. I have used a lot of different texts in a collaborative way--works on fire suppression techniques, the Salem witch trials, the function and nature of the eye, and works by Freud, Cotton Mather, and Susan Brownmiller.
Christophe suggested the possibility of collaboration--a prospect that excites me--of course there is the question of what would that look like? I haven't completed a collaborative piece with another writer since Deborah Richards and I wrote the chapbook Cut and Shoot together in 2001. I enjoyed the work, the back and forth, the getting-out-of-my-own-mind that the collaborative space provided. I have been looking for ways to explore that space again. This is an example of how I've been comfortable with collaborating (from my maybe-chapbook "No Delicate Flower," which employs Susan Brownmiller's text Femininity),
but I'd like to work in new ways, with more than just my own parameters to contend with.
In my work-life, I wanted to create a collaborative blog where researchers could comment on the organizational structure and description I provided for the Chew Family Papers, but I never quite had the time to make it happen. In retrospect, however, I'd rather save that energy for collaborative poetry. I'd love to hear about others' projects, collaborative desires, or the logistics of collective work. Leave a comment, or just email me at deliciousginger at gmail dot com if you're interested in exploring this kind of work and/or conversation.
I do this with other writers' work all the time (without their knowledge, usually). I have been scanning some old visual pieces to send to Christophe Casamassima, which got me thinking about appropriation as collaboration. I have used a lot of different texts in a collaborative way--works on fire suppression techniques, the Salem witch trials, the function and nature of the eye, and works by Freud, Cotton Mather, and Susan Brownmiller.
Christophe suggested the possibility of collaboration--a prospect that excites me--of course there is the question of what would that look like? I haven't completed a collaborative piece with another writer since Deborah Richards and I wrote the chapbook Cut and Shoot together in 2001. I enjoyed the work, the back and forth, the getting-out-of-my-own-mind that the collaborative space provided. I have been looking for ways to explore that space again. This is an example of how I've been comfortable with collaborating (from my maybe-chapbook "No Delicate Flower," which employs Susan Brownmiller's text Femininity),
but I'd like to work in new ways, with more than just my own parameters to contend with.
In my work-life, I wanted to create a collaborative blog where researchers could comment on the organizational structure and description I provided for the Chew Family Papers, but I never quite had the time to make it happen. In retrospect, however, I'd rather save that energy for collaborative poetry. I'd love to hear about others' projects, collaborative desires, or the logistics of collective work. Leave a comment, or just email me at deliciousginger at gmail dot com if you're interested in exploring this kind of work and/or conversation.
09 August 2009
Each moment, a work of art
I returned yesterday from a furious week of work at the George Nakashima shop in New Hope, PA, an unexpected position that came at the right time for me. I left feeling inspired once again to do the work that pays my bills, and because of the Nakashimas' generosity in allowing me to stay in their cloister cottage, I also had the space and time to reflect upon the poetry that I have been wanting to write for the past few months. I spent the evenings alone reading and writing, and felt the impact of my archival career upon my writing life. I haven't had the energy to produce much of anything since April or so, which has produced a feeling of desperation in my art-starved heart.
my room with a view
I am looking forward to filling the rest of August with some creative content, and to recommitting myself to not letting work take over my creative life. Though I haven't been producing on a material level, I feel like I've been manifesting some amazing beauty. I hope to start putting these new forces into words, and to sharing more work here soon. In each moment, a poem awaits, if only I can find it.
my room with a view
I am looking forward to filling the rest of August with some creative content, and to recommitting myself to not letting work take over my creative life. Though I haven't been producing on a material level, I feel like I've been manifesting some amazing beauty. I hope to start putting these new forces into words, and to sharing more work here soon. In each moment, a poem awaits, if only I can find it.
19 July 2009
Help Keep Giovanni's Room Alive
from Edwin Hermance, owner of Giovanni's Room Bookstore
Giovanni's Room, the oldest independent LGBT bookstore in the United States today, needs your help and support to survive. Our 12th St. wall, which is structurally unsound, must be taken down and rebuilt from the ground up; construction will begin by sometime in August. The cost of this renovation, roughly $50,000, will not be easily paid; independent bookstores, lgbt bookstores included, have never been that profitable. Our store's success is measured by the people Giovanni's Room has helped in an almost limitless number of ways and by the exposure we have given to authors and publishers, filmmakers and musicians.
This will be a delicate time in the store's history. We need your support more than ever, and the store will remain open during the construction. Here is what we are asking you to do:
We have often faced adversity. In the beginning, in 1973, we had hardly any books to sell and the store was staffed 100% by volunteers. When homophobic landlords evicted us from the Spruce Street location and no one, on a major street, would rent to Giovanni's Room, we were able to raise the down payment for the current location by borrowing from you, our customers. Over 100 volunteers helped renovate the building to make the beautiful space we have occupied since 1979.
Now, at this defining juncture, we have formed a Committee that will be addressing fundraising, volunteers, special community and author events, and other activities to help meet the cost of this repair.
Keep gay heritage alive. Volunteer your time - make a financial pledge! Your support to Giovanni's Room will help us survive our 36th year.
Photo by R. Kennedy for GPTMC
This will be a delicate time in the store's history. We need your support more than ever, and the store will remain open during the construction. Here is what we are asking you to do:
*Continue to shop at Giovanni's Room despite the challenges.
*Order in person, online, by email, and by phone.
*Show your support!
Now, at this defining juncture, we have formed a Committee that will be addressing fundraising, volunteers, special community and author events, and other activities to help meet the cost of this repair.
Keep gay heritage alive. Volunteer your time - make a financial pledge! Your support to Giovanni's Room will help us survive our 36th year.
Giovanni's Room
345 South 12th St. (corner of 12th & Pine Sts.)
Philadelphia, PA 19107
215/923-2960
giovannis_room@verizon.net
http://www.queerbooks.com
345 South 12th St. (corner of 12th & Pine Sts.)
Philadelphia, PA 19107
215/923-2960
giovannis_room@verizon.net
http://www.queerbooks.com
24 February 2009
A new series
This is one of a series of new poems I've been working on.
This control,
this push away—
difficult to say how the flush
of her face
shaded her eyes—
Sunlight through thick clouds
invites those urges of passion
this glass creating
a sunset, a fire—
each struggle, a line,
each blade, an instrument
of division—
words collapse into water
with her breath—
our position shattered—
lips colliding with skin—
This control,
this push away—
difficult to say how the flush
of her face
shaded her eyes—
Sunlight through thick clouds
invites those urges of passion
this glass creating
a sunset, a fire—
each struggle, a line,
each blade, an instrument
of division—
words collapse into water
with her breath—
our position shattered—
lips colliding with skin—
18 November 2008
Reading at Chapterhouse
If you are in Philadelphia on December 13, please come hear me read at the Chapter&Verse series (Chapterhouse Gallery and Cafe, 620 S. 9th Street). The reading starts at 8pm.
I will be reading with Laura Jaramillo and Brandon Holmquest.
http://chapterhousereadings.blogspot.com/
Hope to see you there!
I will be reading with Laura Jaramillo and Brandon Holmquest.
http://chapterhousereadings.blogspot.com/
Hope to see you there!
30 August 2008
Final installment of the poetry postcards
August 20:
Dear Colleen--
What do we cut--
these arteries of attachment,
this sorrow--
the empty space between
words and breath
provides the path
of navigation--the hollow
anxiety of unknowing--
August 21:
Dear Laura--
the trick is
holding two things at once--
this balance of sadness
and joy, this want and
this acceptance--
how to live in one place--
August 22:
Dear Adrienne--
The familiar numbers,
faint remembrance in the strokes--
so far away, and the question
of where to now?
All of it seeming unreal,
nonsensical, but here we are
breathing together--
August 23:
Dear Patrick--
Tomorrow, this future--
some conjured moment,
some ripe bloom--
I breathe myself solid,
feel my steady grip
on this narrative, this
life I move through,
create--
August 24:
Dear Greg--
The crows have ended
their raucous salute to
morning--we are
bound together in our
routines, the joy of
shouting out our intentions--
I hear myself in their voices,
I sing crow songs--
August 25:
Dear Erin--
A woman dances on the street
corner to her own song, music
shaking through her hips,
her arms thrown skyward--
pigeons perched in a line, napping--
the dance moves closer to me,
and then away--
the morning rising
in Philadelphia--
August 26:
Dear Brittany--
Reflecting back, did the struggle
balance--the question of worth,
the trick of words, how they
extend and reach
into us--shifting definitions,
the assimilation of
what is now--
August 27:
Dear Mary--
These words create
a container for the day,
the expansion and
contraction
of life, the way impermanence
reminds us
what we hold,
how to let go--
August 28:
Dear Mary--
Tonight, I remember
how to smile and give
in--the breeze gentle,
the garden still--
I accept the missing
presence that held my
hope--tonight, I
grieve--
August 29:
Dear RD--
The air is thick again
with waiting--
how our destinies
intertwine, how we long
for something to change--
this, our history, laid
out before us, urging
us forward--
August 30:
Dear Charlie--
Clouds cover and part,
we hover and dive--words
heavy with history and sentiment
lead us to become--
every day we discover--
the potency of sound,
potential of memory,
the hum of not knowing
what comes next--
August 31:
Dear Maggie--
the before and after-images
bleed through the screen
of our knowing--
balloons of light,
darkness enveloping--
friction between us
filling the gaps--
Dear Colleen--
What do we cut--
these arteries of attachment,
this sorrow--
the empty space between
words and breath
provides the path
of navigation--the hollow
anxiety of unknowing--
August 21:
Dear Laura--
the trick is
holding two things at once--
this balance of sadness
and joy, this want and
this acceptance--
how to live in one place--
August 22:
Dear Adrienne--
The familiar numbers,
faint remembrance in the strokes--
so far away, and the question
of where to now?
All of it seeming unreal,
nonsensical, but here we are
breathing together--
August 23:
Dear Patrick--
Tomorrow, this future--
some conjured moment,
some ripe bloom--
I breathe myself solid,
feel my steady grip
on this narrative, this
life I move through,
create--
August 24:
Dear Greg--
The crows have ended
their raucous salute to
morning--we are
bound together in our
routines, the joy of
shouting out our intentions--
I hear myself in their voices,
I sing crow songs--
August 25:
Dear Erin--
A woman dances on the street
corner to her own song, music
shaking through her hips,
her arms thrown skyward--
pigeons perched in a line, napping--
the dance moves closer to me,
and then away--
the morning rising
in Philadelphia--
August 26:
Dear Brittany--
Reflecting back, did the struggle
balance--the question of worth,
the trick of words, how they
extend and reach
into us--shifting definitions,
the assimilation of
what is now--
August 27:
Dear Mary--
These words create
a container for the day,
the expansion and
contraction
of life, the way impermanence
reminds us
what we hold,
how to let go--
August 28:
Dear Mary--
Tonight, I remember
how to smile and give
in--the breeze gentle,
the garden still--
I accept the missing
presence that held my
hope--tonight, I
grieve--
August 29:
Dear RD--
The air is thick again
with waiting--
how our destinies
intertwine, how we long
for something to change--
this, our history, laid
out before us, urging
us forward--
August 30:
Dear Charlie--
Clouds cover and part,
we hover and dive--words
heavy with history and sentiment
lead us to become--
every day we discover--
the potency of sound,
potential of memory,
the hum of not knowing
what comes next--
August 31:
Dear Maggie--
the before and after-images
bleed through the screen
of our knowing--
balloons of light,
darkness enveloping--
friction between us
filling the gaps--
18 August 2008
Postcards, third installment
August 13:
Dear Amy--
Reaching toward
an unknown--the gap
between here and
there--
background clatter
shattering shadows--
(image: Henri Matisse "La Musique")
August 14:
Dear Carmiel,
The radio tells stories
of economic downturns,
of mentally-ill prisoners,
of thunderstorms,
of olympic triumphs,
of political unrest,
and I drink coffee
and eat a biscuit.
(image: Masolino "Peccato originale")
August 15:
Dear Christian--
Is this a conversation?
conversion? or a sign
of the ever-present heart-
ache--
this connection,
fragile--
these words fluttering
away--
(image: Gertrude Stein in foreground, Alice B. Toklas in background)
August 16:
Dear Diane--
The days slip and spin
as I pedal,
make change,
choose between----
follow the breath,
follow the sun
setting
(image: church of St. Maria in Cosmedin, Roma)
August 17:
Dear BJ--
the trick of being embodied:
subtle observations
in every moment--
here, in the mirror--
here, on the train--
the way the light poured
in this afternoon, flooding
my vision with the burst
of summer exuberance,
the way new life just appears--
(image: Barbara Kruger "You thrive on mistaken identity")
August 18:
Dear Marian--
A bargain with my body:
trust me, we will make it--
sigh--sign--the signal
green, and we go--
wholly, hesitantly--
thinking of the time--
so many gestures and
the heavy fear
congealing here--
(image: nude woman's profile and torso)
August 19:
Dear Kim--
the airwaves full of mixed
messages--
expect no clearing
for the next four years--
what we believe
tossed back and
forth--appeasement
at best, at worst betrayal--
(image: Joseph Cornell assemblage)
Dear Amy--
Reaching toward
an unknown--the gap
between here and
there--
background clatter
shattering shadows--
(image: Henri Matisse "La Musique")
August 14:
Dear Carmiel,
The radio tells stories
of economic downturns,
of mentally-ill prisoners,
of thunderstorms,
of olympic triumphs,
of political unrest,
and I drink coffee
and eat a biscuit.
(image: Masolino "Peccato originale")
August 15:
Dear Christian--
Is this a conversation?
conversion? or a sign
of the ever-present heart-
ache--
this connection,
fragile--
these words fluttering
away--
(image: Gertrude Stein in foreground, Alice B. Toklas in background)
August 16:
Dear Diane--
The days slip and spin
as I pedal,
make change,
choose between----
follow the breath,
follow the sun
setting
(image: church of St. Maria in Cosmedin, Roma)
August 17:
Dear BJ--
the trick of being embodied:
subtle observations
in every moment--
here, in the mirror--
here, on the train--
the way the light poured
in this afternoon, flooding
my vision with the burst
of summer exuberance,
the way new life just appears--
(image: Barbara Kruger "You thrive on mistaken identity")
August 18:
Dear Marian--
A bargain with my body:
trust me, we will make it--
sigh--sign--the signal
green, and we go--
wholly, hesitantly--
thinking of the time--
so many gestures and
the heavy fear
congealing here--
(image: nude woman's profile and torso)
August 19:
Dear Kim--
the airwaves full of mixed
messages--
expect no clearing
for the next four years--
what we believe
tossed back and
forth--appeasement
at best, at worst betrayal--
(image: Joseph Cornell assemblage)
11 August 2008
More August Poems
Here are the next few poems I've sent away:
August 10:
Dear Mary--
A day of decisions
and indecision--drinking in
the overwhelming sky--
cool morning, perfect shining
green surrounds--
plucking away the unnecessary
that crowds the roots
of knowing--
(image: hand printed postcard--woman with flowers)
August 11:
Dear Laura--
Thursday night, the orange
and purple sky filled
my eyes with tears, my
heart with longing--
these dark moments of
wonder
hold us
solid--
(image: pig shaped food stand)
August 12:
Dear Emma--
This morning, clouds breaking,
unrest in Georgia, blueberry
muffin and coffee, scientists
"debating" global warming,
a forlorn-looking polar
bear, cats yawning, tomatoes
bursting ripeness, dreams
of cooking--
(image: woman with fogged glasses)
August 10:
Dear Mary--
A day of decisions
and indecision--drinking in
the overwhelming sky--
cool morning, perfect shining
green surrounds--
plucking away the unnecessary
that crowds the roots
of knowing--
(image: hand printed postcard--woman with flowers)
August 11:
Dear Laura--
Thursday night, the orange
and purple sky filled
my eyes with tears, my
heart with longing--
these dark moments of
wonder
hold us
solid--
(image: pig shaped food stand)
August 12:
Dear Emma--
This morning, clouds breaking,
unrest in Georgia, blueberry
muffin and coffee, scientists
"debating" global warming,
a forlorn-looking polar
bear, cats yawning, tomatoes
bursting ripeness, dreams
of cooking--
(image: woman with fogged glasses)
06 August 2008
August Poetry Postcard Fest
I am participating in a mail-poetry project this month, and thought I would share some of the little poems I am sending away. Some of the poems refer to images on the cards, so at the bottom of the poem, I have included a note about what was on the front of the card. I have written to the first 9 people, even though it's not yet August 9th to allow for international deliveries.
Happy August!
love, Cathleen
August 1:
Dear Susan--
And then, looking backward--
the swallow circled
and dipped--
intrusion of memory;
a desire for connection--
What would you have said
if I had told you?
how you would have laughed--
(image: a ruin in Rome)
August 2:
Dear DD--
Every time I look away,
a new detail emerges--
my vision transformed
by solitude--
come now, then
wait--------
(image: Walking on Eggshells by Sandy Skoglund)
August 3:
Dear Michelle--
The way language leaves you--
the way a bell can clear the air--
we were at the window
talking--the heaviness
of the air, of philosophy--
we, now silent--
(image: church bells outside a window)
August 4:
Dear Amanda--
the shifting quality of light--
today, an eclipse
maybe you have seen it?
sky becoming the color
of clouds--
(front: Jean Cocteau quote)
August 5:
Dear Gregory--
Today, dreaming of snow,
cold chilling bones--
the paths of mountains,
hum of crystals landing
one atop another--
the shape of breath
circles--and we sing--
(image: Untitled (Jesus and I) by Larry Johnson)
August 6:
Dear Susan--
Intricate petals on tomato
blossoms--butterfly slowly
moving its wings (open/
close)--sudden rain
on skin--sun baking
the soil dry--
(image: ornamental kale)
August 7:
Dear Bethany--
What intangible costs,
what lives destroyed--
by this, our greed,
our fear--
the electric aggression in
the air when a man walks by
and says "I could/should have shot
you--"
(image: poster "War IS Terror")
August 8:
Dear Robert--
the ways we
fall apart (or) fall together--
moments of unravelling
(when) our breath sighs
out of us--
walls permeable,
hearts softened--
(image: house falling in)
August 9:
Dear Nancy--
Just now--a seed drops from
the sky onto my plate--
I wonder what is planted
here, what fertile ground
I will become when I eat it--
flowers or vines sprouting
from my intestines, reaching
toward light--
(image: Josephine Baker taking a bath)
Happy August!
love, Cathleen
August 1:
Dear Susan--
And then, looking backward--
the swallow circled
and dipped--
intrusion of memory;
a desire for connection--
What would you have said
if I had told you?
how you would have laughed--
(image: a ruin in Rome)
August 2:
Dear DD--
Every time I look away,
a new detail emerges--
my vision transformed
by solitude--
come now, then
wait--------
(image: Walking on Eggshells by Sandy Skoglund)
August 3:
Dear Michelle--
The way language leaves you--
the way a bell can clear the air--
we were at the window
talking--the heaviness
of the air, of philosophy--
we, now silent--
(image: church bells outside a window)
August 4:
Dear Amanda--
the shifting quality of light--
today, an eclipse
maybe you have seen it?
sky becoming the color
of clouds--
(front: Jean Cocteau quote)
August 5:
Dear Gregory--
Today, dreaming of snow,
cold chilling bones--
the paths of mountains,
hum of crystals landing
one atop another--
the shape of breath
circles--and we sing--
(image: Untitled (Jesus and I) by Larry Johnson)
August 6:
Dear Susan--
Intricate petals on tomato
blossoms--butterfly slowly
moving its wings (open/
close)--sudden rain
on skin--sun baking
the soil dry--
(image: ornamental kale)
August 7:
Dear Bethany--
What intangible costs,
what lives destroyed--
by this, our greed,
our fear--
the electric aggression in
the air when a man walks by
and says "I could/should have shot
you--"
(image: poster "War IS Terror")
August 8:
Dear Robert--
the ways we
fall apart (or) fall together--
moments of unravelling
(when) our breath sighs
out of us--
walls permeable,
hearts softened--
(image: house falling in)
August 9:
Dear Nancy--
Just now--a seed drops from
the sky onto my plate--
I wonder what is planted
here, what fertile ground
I will become when I eat it--
flowers or vines sprouting
from my intestines, reaching
toward light--
(image: Josephine Baker taking a bath)
24 June 2008
PhillySound featured on FANZINE
Check it out: A wonderful poetry feature by Thom Donovan with work by eleven poets in Philly (including me). I am honored and delighted to be featured with such wonderful people, such good and inspiring writers.
Here it is. http://thefanzine.com/articles/poetry/254/phillysound_poets/1
Here it is. http://thefanzine.com/articles/poetry/254/phillysound_poets/1
03 June 2008
Reading at Robin's books
Please come hear me read on Tuesday, June 24th, 6pm, at Robin's Books.
I will be reading with poet Michele Belluomini.
Follow this link for more details: http://www.robinsbookstore.com/events/062408.html
I will be reading with poet Michele Belluomini.
Follow this link for more details: http://www.robinsbookstore.com/events/062408.html
08 May 2008
You are invited....
Art, words, music and more--
Reclaiming our bodies and our lives.
I hope you can join us.
12 April 2008
trans-gression arts festival
Multi-disciplinary Arts Festival
Promises to Bend, Blend, and Break Gender Expectations
Opening Reception, Sunday May 4, 4-6PM
Da Vinci Art Alliance
704 Catherine Street, Philadelphia, PA 19147
May 4 – May 30, 2008
GALLERY HOURS: May 7th - 30th
Wednesday 12-4PM & 6-8PM
Thursday - Sunday 12-4PM
featuring artists:
Tally Brennan, Deborah Caiola, Heather Marie Davis-Jones, Justin DeForest, Susan DiPronio, Laureen Griffin, Justin Jain, Kirsten Knoblauch, Cathleen Miller, Martina Plag.
for more details, www.trans-gression.org/festival2008.html
Promises to Bend, Blend, and Break Gender Expectations
Opening Reception, Sunday May 4, 4-6PM
Da Vinci Art Alliance
704 Catherine Street, Philadelphia, PA 19147
May 4 – May 30, 2008
GALLERY HOURS: May 7th - 30th
Wednesday 12-4PM & 6-8PM
Thursday - Sunday 12-4PM
featuring artists:
Tally Brennan, Deborah Caiola, Heather Marie Davis-Jones, Justin DeForest, Susan DiPronio, Laureen Griffin, Justin Jain, Kirsten Knoblauch, Cathleen Miller, Martina Plag.
for more details, www.trans-gression.org/festival2008.html
30 March 2008
re-writing old texts
Since I'm pretty much never happy with what I write after it sits around for a while, I have been re-writing (read: creating whole new poems using only bits of the old) a series of old works. Though they began as a serial poem, the new incarnations are probably more likely to be stand-alone pieces with loose relationships. Here is a sample:
1.
Your weather,
the small allowances--
in the slip between
borders, your "boy" and "girl" lines--
there are hesitant secrets
revealed with silence--
no matter how hard--
Your flexibility,
your careful speech,
kept boundaries, faced
differences
invention and fiction--
your life in ruffles
and denim
You tell the truth,
comparing
our bodies
willing to give
your father's hand,
your chocolate cakes
You peel back layers
You shave the fear
You sort through piles
There, stand questioning
in front of the make up
in front of the feather boas
I invent you as a character,
I take your place, wrap my
fear in feathers, remain curious
about the revelation
of necessity--
1.
Your weather,
the small allowances--
in the slip between
borders, your "boy" and "girl" lines--
there are hesitant secrets
revealed with silence--
no matter how hard--
Your flexibility,
your careful speech,
kept boundaries, faced
differences
invention and fiction--
your life in ruffles
and denim
You tell the truth,
comparing
our bodies
willing to give
your father's hand,
your chocolate cakes
You peel back layers
You shave the fear
You sort through piles
There, stand questioning
in front of the make up
in front of the feather boas
I invent you as a character,
I take your place, wrap my
fear in feathers, remain curious
about the revelation
of necessity--
22 March 2008
18 February 2008
some new snippets of poems (lines don't really break like this)
This line exists
between handshakes
and infinity
a circle drawn
twelve degrees
walking, or a horse, backwards
create a boundary between
is and
will be
*************
we begin with contention
this picking apart the edges
if this point were movement
this motion, a subtle shift
if the line between drifts
away
you walk backward
into a time when
between handshakes
and infinity
a circle drawn
twelve degrees
walking, or a horse, backwards
create a boundary between
is and
will be
*************
we begin with contention
this picking apart the edges
if this point were movement
this motion, a subtle shift
if the line between drifts
away
you walk backward
into a time when
14 December 2007
On Bali, climate catastrophe
standing at the precipice
looking over, we sigh,
(these words spoken so many times before)
disappearance: ice
bears
birds
dolphins
diversity
fish
frogs
food
clean air
water
peace
We are not doing enough. We stand at the edge of ice, the edge of prairie, the edge of forest.
We are watching as the storm comes to overwhelm us. We are not prepared.
***********************************************************************************
I love this earth, the beauty and wildness of it. I don't want to tame it. I want to grow things and watch them flourish. I want to marvel at the simplicity of a sparrow's movements. I want to challenge myself to do better by this place that holds me and allows me to grow. I want us all to do better by this world. It is so beautiful and nourishing and we are ruining it. I don't always know how to make things better, but I care deeply about the state of the world. I only wish our government's representatives cared. I wish they could see beyond their own self interest. We need to shake them out of their stupors. And while we're at it, we should shake ourselves out of complacency.
looking over, we sigh,
(these words spoken so many times before)
disappearance: ice
bears
birds
dolphins
diversity
fish
frogs
food
clean air
water
peace
We are not doing enough. We stand at the edge of ice, the edge of prairie, the edge of forest.
We are watching as the storm comes to overwhelm us. We are not prepared.
***********************************************************************************
I love this earth, the beauty and wildness of it. I don't want to tame it. I want to grow things and watch them flourish. I want to marvel at the simplicity of a sparrow's movements. I want to challenge myself to do better by this place that holds me and allows me to grow. I want us all to do better by this world. It is so beautiful and nourishing and we are ruining it. I don't always know how to make things better, but I care deeply about the state of the world. I only wish our government's representatives cared. I wish they could see beyond their own self interest. We need to shake them out of their stupors. And while we're at it, we should shake ourselves out of complacency.
21 September 2007
more "Loose the Stays"
Since there was some interest in these poems, I figured I'd post a few more. I do not have images of all of the poems, which is something I need to work on.
Anyway, enjoy. And thanks for reading.
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