Featured poem “Bird Blind” in the July edition of the Midwest Literary Magazine. It’s a piece I wrote as a meditation around what gets people up in the morning.
From a collection of recent experimentation with newspaper black-out poetry.
Spreading offered human destiny, a desert
Deliberately parched and nearly
Dead. Seed should have practiced
Fingers, empty husks going to feed
The people in spite of drought.
“This is beautiful!” rustled the wind,
A hope for the system that feeds
The vulnerable harvest, flailing.
Driven by increase, the four
Most human horsemen demand
Hunger in scores, amid riots, played
In the latest scientific change.
The failed harvests of consequence,
Of waves, believe those events were human.
Temperatures are rising,
After decades of hungry prices.
Hello. It sure has been a while since I’ve posted on the regular. This is mostly due to a lack of adventures on my part, though I did manage a nice preview of the Indianapolis Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library on New Year’s Eve Day. That was pretty nifty. Poo-tee-weet.
Now, despite a lack of posts, I have remained busy. Mostly with applications to MFA programs and with contest submissions. ‘Tis the season to keep busy. What I’ve really needed, however, was a project. And so I’m going to print a chapbook. But I don’t just want to print my poetry. I want some of yours. Friends, feel free to e-mail me with poetry, flash fiction or illustration you would like to see in print. I’ll give it a review and, if I like it, print it. It’s a vague project right now, but, depending on the feedback, we’ll see what becomes of it. I may turn into a rogue publisher and vagabond the country selling prints of my own evolving work off a master flash drive. This may even take place months from now, but the project begins now. So submit. I think my e-mail’s on here somewhere.
I wonder if spiders are getting savvy to the parenthetical addresses. Guess we’ll see if I get an influx of spam.
I sure suck at writing stuff. Hopefully that doesn’t reflect in all the manuscripts I’ve been sending out. Because I’d really like to go to grad school. Busy busy busy.
Wow, two weeks gone by already. And trust me, it’s been a slow drag to this point. Research, interviewing has been a blast, just exhausting. Brain’s getting distracted, keeps thinking about bears. And lasers. And robots. Robot laser bears, even. It’s a keen critical process for my writing, thinking about bears is. Meditation better done focusing on polar bears, they’re pretty chill. Mostly think about grizzly bears when I need to get in a feverish homework fit. Homework gets intense. Poetry and papers, mostly. Have one due Tuesday. Aren’t I exciting? Reading my days must be like watching paint dry. Fun fact: I watch paint dry. A+++ would recommend.
I feel I’ve lingered on vomit for too long. Really, I’ve been well. Busy, though, if you (dear readers, what few of you I imagine remain) haven’t noticed by lack of post. Most prominently pressing in my day to day has been my return to university. Classes are a-bustling.
Most foremost in my projects is an ethnography on Swedish heritage and concretized migrant culture. It’s a project in three parts: first a poem to strike at the heart of the matter, second voices to explore the matter, and third a discussion of the whole. In the project I explore my trip to Sweden and my familial Scandinavian roots, as well as my family’s place within the larger context of the Swedish-American exodus in the late 1800’s. As I may have discussed, my family joined me in Sweden over the summer to visit Brunnsparken, where my great great grandfather held the position of Master Gardener. What an experience. The first, poetic section, is in its final stages of revision. Perhaps I will share it here at a later time. I’ve also been busy transcribing photo-elicitation interviews with my family. In fact, the first weekends of October have been booked for this task alone!
And in coming weeks: visits and visiting friends. Kyle and I have been resurrecting the KGB Poetry Press (Kyle’s latest, The Thaw, up just a few days ago). And in Urbana I have been hosting Thursday night Poetry Den with various poets and friends from classes. It’s a sort of informal workshop / writing session. If you’re interested in joining, shoot me a line! We always love new work and new perspective.
Much of my work has shifted to my uncle’s typewriter, the trusty Galaxie Twelve. Something about the typewriter makes poetry seem so concrete. I write daily, sometimes lost in words. Perhaps my anachronistic switch is in part responsible for my lack of posts. I cannot, after all, access the internet on those old-fashioned keys!
I am ready for Fall!
I was totally going to update today. And then I got food poisoning. So I’m vomiting instead.
P.S. I hope no-one reading this post was here for professional reasons. I do occasionally get e-mails about Ibsen (which I love) or my poems (which I also love). This is clearly not about either. And food poisoning is so not professional. Sorry.
P.P.S. Did I just apologize for being ill? I really need to stop editing and go chug a bottle of pepto bismol or something. Then maybe lay down on the floor.