Please join us for
Mass Mayhem!
Mom Egg Review
Reading at Červená Barva Press Studio
Saturday, November 2 at 1:30 PM
The Center For The Arts At The Armory
Basement Room B8
191 Highland Avenue
Somerville, MA
Featured readers:
Carol Berg
Louise Berliner
DebbieBlicher
Fay Chiang
Lori Desrosiers
Kathy Handley
Jennifer Jean
Danielle Jones-Pruett
Dorian Kotsiopoulos
Aparna Mani
Tara Masih
Colleen Michaels
Jaqui Morton
January G. O'Neill
Eve Packer
Kyle Potvin
Denise Provost
Laura Rodley
Rosie Rosensweig
Nancy Vona
mc Marjorie Tesser
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Friday, October 11, 2013
To Take In
Image of the Day: Geese straggling together like tails of kites fluttering in the October sky.
I finally have an afternoon where I can just veg--no deadlines or meetings or nothing. Just time to sit and read and think. Possibly poeming, but we'll see about that. The poems come, taper off, and leave. I've been rejected a gazillion times it seems lately, but I've still got a few more out there and a few poems that I haven't even gotten in any kind of submission order, which is actually a good thing.
The fall weather has been gorgeous and the birds are changing--as noted above, the geese are practicing their flying formations and the juncos have come back (and I have an old poem here about that) and the woodpeckers are changing their thudding sounds. Time to hang the suet and to take in the hummingbird feeder.
My schedule has changed too in that I'm working longer hours now at my tutoring gig. And things have gotten much more busy there as well--so little down time to write. The only writing time it seems I can squeeze in is sitting in stopped traffic or endless traffic lights and dig out my notebook and scratch around for some images. I tell myself it's practice nonetheless. But I do need some new poetry books. I have been reading some journals--The Journal and Crab Orchard Review, but my subscriptions seem to have run out and I haven't had the time or money to renew. Hopefully, that'll change soon.
Battering Robin Syndrome
He has split his beak on my view.
He has left his selfprint, almost art.
My window is torturing him.
My hubcaps incense him.
The robin wants my spring yard
to himself. Each reflection's
a rival and must be fought full force.
Each reflection is harder than his skull.
He slides down, hobbles, tries again.
What business do I have holding mirrors
to nature? It revolts. It suicides.
My love of flat, clear and shining surfaces,
flatter, clearer, shinier than lakes,
than anything in nature, is unnatural.
And if nature held mirrors to me,
showed me someone I thought would steal
my truelove, or showed me how I'm doing,
what would I do, would I learn,
or beat my head against her skull,
or try to smash myself against the news?
Copyright © 2013 Tina Kelley All rights reserved
from Precise
Word Poetry
I finally have an afternoon where I can just veg--no deadlines or meetings or nothing. Just time to sit and read and think. Possibly poeming, but we'll see about that. The poems come, taper off, and leave. I've been rejected a gazillion times it seems lately, but I've still got a few more out there and a few poems that I haven't even gotten in any kind of submission order, which is actually a good thing.
The fall weather has been gorgeous and the birds are changing--as noted above, the geese are practicing their flying formations and the juncos have come back (and I have an old poem here about that) and the woodpeckers are changing their thudding sounds. Time to hang the suet and to take in the hummingbird feeder.
My schedule has changed too in that I'm working longer hours now at my tutoring gig. And things have gotten much more busy there as well--so little down time to write. The only writing time it seems I can squeeze in is sitting in stopped traffic or endless traffic lights and dig out my notebook and scratch around for some images. I tell myself it's practice nonetheless. But I do need some new poetry books. I have been reading some journals--The Journal and Crab Orchard Review, but my subscriptions seem to have run out and I haven't had the time or money to renew. Hopefully, that'll change soon.
Battering Robin Syndrome
He has split his beak on my view.
He has left his selfprint, almost art.
My window is torturing him.
My hubcaps incense him.
The robin wants my spring yard
to himself. Each reflection's
a rival and must be fought full force.
Each reflection is harder than his skull.
He slides down, hobbles, tries again.
What business do I have holding mirrors
to nature? It revolts. It suicides.
My love of flat, clear and shining surfaces,
flatter, clearer, shinier than lakes,
than anything in nature, is unnatural.
And if nature held mirrors to me,
showed me someone I thought would steal
my truelove, or showed me how I'm doing,
what would I do, would I learn,
or beat my head against her skull,
or try to smash myself against the news?
Copyright © 2013 Tina Kelley All rights reserved
from Precise
Word Poetry
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Ambling Alone
Image of the Day: Fat raccoon furtively checking behind it as it ambles alone along the road in the dark.
Dreams: I'm dying and wandering around outside and the light is so bright but I'm waiting for my vision to fail. I tell him not to put me in the coffin until my eyes close. Feelings inside the me in the dream of something totally un-understandable approaching. Something darker and larger than I can image. I wake up.
I know what my mind is doing there in that dream, trying to process certain experiences, but I wish it wouldn't do it quite so vividly, if you know what I mean. On my way to work, I noticed wires across the road and a box on the railing which said it was Traffic Data Collecting. How the brain is one big data collecting box with coiling wires/tentacles, searching out information all over the place.
Poetry News: Rejections. Writing a poem a day using Diane Lockward's The Crafty Poet. I'm getting together some questions for an interview with Diane that I'm very excited about. Waiting on submissions.
A massive shadow of hubris
crashes through a universe of thorns
having no feathers but smooth skin
and wingflaps of nearly transparent
lugubrious membrane
there's lightning by firing of eyes
thunder by flapping of wings
cowboys leaving a trail of moonshine
fire at the heart of it
while the legend disappears
rumors persist of a big dead bird
nailed to a barn with a mighty span unfurled
and several men posed under it for scale
Jane Miller
Thunderbird
Copper Canyon Press
Dreams: I'm dying and wandering around outside and the light is so bright but I'm waiting for my vision to fail. I tell him not to put me in the coffin until my eyes close. Feelings inside the me in the dream of something totally un-understandable approaching. Something darker and larger than I can image. I wake up.
I know what my mind is doing there in that dream, trying to process certain experiences, but I wish it wouldn't do it quite so vividly, if you know what I mean. On my way to work, I noticed wires across the road and a box on the railing which said it was Traffic Data Collecting. How the brain is one big data collecting box with coiling wires/tentacles, searching out information all over the place.
Poetry News: Rejections. Writing a poem a day using Diane Lockward's The Crafty Poet. I'm getting together some questions for an interview with Diane that I'm very excited about. Waiting on submissions.
Consciousness
A massive shadow of hubris
crashes through a universe of thorns
having no feathers but smooth skin
and wingflaps of nearly transparent
lugubrious membrane
there's lightning by firing of eyes
thunder by flapping of wings
cowboys leaving a trail of moonshine
fire at the heart of it
while the legend disappears
rumors persist of a big dead bird
nailed to a barn with a mighty span unfurled
and several men posed under it for scale
Jane Miller
Thunderbird
Copper Canyon Press
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Memorize More!
Image of the Day: Birds in my backyard, scrambling in the rain for seed. Happy Holidays! I have a poem here at One Art, Hiking Cadillac Mo...
-
Okay so here is the big poetry giveaway deal: I will be giving away one copy of my poetry chapbook Her Vena Amoris (and possibly a...
-
Image of the day: Milky clouds creaming a blue bowl of a sky. So this is sort of indicative of how my week has been going: I'm drivi...