The Bee

I left him
where he fell on the bedroom floor,
for although he was no longer
alive, in death his fullness
preserved, startling to the sight.

I wondered how he’d hid away
in my bag, unnoticed and died
there, untouched. I sat on my bed,
how am I to murder this already resting thing?

Swiftly tissue covers-
I am sorry to disturb you.

Batter my heart, three person'd God (Holy Sonnet XIV)

It's been a long time, John Donne, since I have read you.

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/20308

I feel like a bad person

but then read these for a moment and feel a little better.
http://www.theliftedbrow.com/?p=362

Or at least that someone else feels the same way. 

Illiterate Progenitor @ The New Yorker

The rest of the poem by Mary Karr is interesting enough, but I think it could be cut down to this last ardently genuine stanza;


He took his smoke unfiltered, milk unskimmed.
       He liked his steaks marbled, fatback on mustard greens,
              onions eaten like apples, split turnips dipped
                     into rock salt, hot-pepper vinegar on black beans.

 

 

Read more: http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/poetry/2010/01/18/100118po_poem_karr#ixzz0ci1r7v8E

The New Inquiry

Check out this awesome new blog that I'm contributing to:

http://thenewinquiry.tumblr.com

Your internet resource for all things interesting and smart.

Dan Beachy-Quick on Parenthood

A short reflection on parenthood by one of the people I greatly admire in this world. Published in the NY Times, last summer in the 'Modern Love' section. Enjoy.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/03/fashion/03love.html?_r=1&pagewanted=2

Wallace Stevens Revisited

“Individual poets, whatever their imperfections may be, are driven all their lives by that inner companion of the conscience which is, after all, the genius of poetry in their hearts and minds. I speak of a companion of the conscience because to every faithful poet, the faithful poem is an act of conscience.”

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/23/books/review/Vendler-t.html

Many of us, myself included until recently, want to believe that our work, poetry and visual art especially, can somehow avoid the personal. Our individuality is sterilized to keep the skill and intellectualism intact; a necessary distance to us artists afraid of triteness and confessionality. But more and more I realize that this is what makes the poem my own. We must learn the discretion through skill, and then we are no longer required to censor in the way we never did in our high school journaling. We must trust ourselves.

on African American autobiographies and self-discovery

"The discovery of self usually occurs in savage or at best inhospitable surroundings. The self is under attack and responds by taking up the most silent and self-reflective habit of them all: reading. This sets the stage for classic motifs of the genre—movement (literal or metaphorical) and literacy, meaning the very ability to read or the first recognition of one’s own experiences in the mirror of the printed word."

from Autobiographical Fire and Obama’s Creation of Self

by Darryl Lorenzo Wellington

http://www.thecommonreview.org/spotlight.html

Back in the Habit: A's Reads

I'm trying to get back in the habit of blogging more often. I decided to add a new section to the blog called A's Reads. Recently a few people have asked me to tell them about the poetry and lit that I'm reading, because they themselves don't know of contemporary poets etc. So this is an attempt to expose those who are interested to contemporary poetry, text art and literature in general by sharing what I myself am reading.

please refer to these current inspirations:

Jenny Holzer: Truisms

I recently remembered that I saw this piece in the Rhona Hoffman gallery last summer.
Jenny Holzer is one of my favorite artists, and the reasons why are clearly demonstrated in
this piece. The piece consists of about 8 framed pieces of paper, with this text printed on
them in alphabetical order. It may have been a different version than what's listed here, but
the same idea is conveyed. These are invented truisms. Representing - Simplicity. Clarity.
Profundity. So clear in fact that although the statement itself is new, it presents nothing
new. There are new truism. Language at its best.

Tyler Sherman: Happenstance

Tyler shared this poem with me recently. I'm not sure if this the exact edit that I saw, but
this is a fine fine example of a long poem. It continues the precision of a short poem, but
allows the tightness of the poem to be complimented by the looseness of the subject. This
poem so importantly let's things in that may seen rationally tangential, but are emotionally
relevant. It is witty, intelligent and notably vulnerable. Something that can be so hard to
balance in creative work, but which strengthens the work in a successful execution.

Samuel Beckett: Waiting for Godot
So although this is admittedly not contemporary (the play premiered in 1953) I wanted to
note how much this work affected me. I stumbled upon it in the library. Waiting for Godot is
the type of work that makes me wish I one day could write something as this play (or do
anything as good as this for that matter). It's a quick read. I had to own the play, so I bought
the bilingual copy, as it was originally written in French. I highly suggest reading this.

Information on the new Summer 2k9 In Preparation coming soon.

Nonsource Supported Links

Greetings,
I have been doing lots of research lately on artist's/writer's groups/spaces/sites lately and have added many of these to the Nonsource Supported Links. Take a look!
A

A monologue from How to Speak to the Dead, 2007-2008

Do you believe in the multiple worlds [theory]? If you do, then I can meet you in the past. But you will be scared because I am from the future, and you will be surprised at my age. I will not be the daughter you know but instead the daughter you would never know. I cannot save your life, because I am no scientist, but maybe we can get dinner and we can talk.

I will tell you, I am a time traveler. I will not tell you that you will die, because that would make you scared. I will try not to be upset at the sight of you, because after I explained my story, you would know something was wrong. You would know that you had died in the time I come from. I do not want you to know when you will die. I will instead act as if my excitement is due to the fact that I can travel to the past; that my time travel has worked. You will be proud of my achievements.

BFAW READ

these colors are soo wrong.
but nonetheless...

The Writing Program at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago is pleased to present a reading by the second class of graduating BFA Writing Program students.

Including:
Patrick Anderson
Halle Butler
Zack Eliasz
Alyssa Martinez
Samuel Nigrosh
Sean O'Connell
William E. Porter
Marit Rogne

Taking place May 15th from 1:30-4 PM
in Theater 2 in the Gene Siskel at 164 N State St
All are welcome to come.
Reception to follow.
I look forward to seeing you there!

movement

moments that pass quietly invisible
systems the quiet hum
of the bus on the ride
to where I left this morning

I am hundreds of heartbeats



molecular apparitions of all
that happens inside me there
is no pause between breaths

but the breath that is happening now



each person a small piece
looking at myself out the window
inside at a book or paper

each a reflection hearts beating
fingers pressing cell phone
buttons eyes back and forth
forced across the quickly
moving sky outside

a snow covered lake



a river covered in ice
on which we cannot stand in which
we cannot swim

a full breath

Phenomena

As the semester trucks on, I really want to take advantage of the facilities available to at HKU. So, although I spent a good two or three weeks, everyday, doing the drawings for the little animation, it will be put on hold temporarily for the more site specific silk silkscreen and letter press.

For the past 2 months I've been advised in a silkscreen course with the other exchange students. It was my first time doing this type of printing, and I've really enjoyed it although the process can simultaneously benefit from and exasperate any obsessive-compulsive tendencies I may have... I've included an image of "Phantasmagoric Gold" an edition of 10 prints. For this print I used the drawing/watercolor that I did by the same title; I scanned it and printed four different levels of contrast as four layers. Preparing the screen is somewhat difficult, but our instructor Hendrick, is both kind and extremely patient.

This past Tuesday was my first instruction in the letter press; totally awesome. It's just the tedious type of thing I like to do. There are shelves and shelves of all the different styles and sizes of fonts. The letters are small pieces of lead that you fit into each line you want to print; a group of lines is called a text block. You have a little map of reference to the placement of the letters in the drawers but often they are all mixed up and creating a text block is like completing a personalized backwards puzzle. Manuel, the book arts and letter press teacher advising me for this is one of the more excited and animated people I've met here. This upcoming Tuesday, I'll begin to print on paper.

So, right now I'm working on a book to bring these two disciplines together. I will be focusing on cellular imagery in both the prints and the text. I am trying to experiment with the materials I print on. On the image I have included, the cells are printed on a vellum-like paper, and the lines are printed on a really great (and therefore expensive) rice paper. I'm interested in layering the images with the different thicknesses of paper.

I'm trying to experiment with this project. Letting things happen as they will while trying not planning obsessively. In the words of Samuel Beckett, "Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better." Some words I've recently been trying to live by. More thoughts on that later.

Untitled WIP

To come into oneself.

Waves like cars crashing

against the shore. Waves

crashing into a shore

of bits of sand and glass.

I am a circle into myself.

I am here too.

Facsimile of Another Foreign Body (a little work in progress)

The body changes

the way right down to 

cells mutiny excess

by some other thing. 

It is an accusation

unaware yet reproduce 

unaware produce excess 

unaware. 

I am accusation of myself

I am overgrown extra cells. 

Only reproduction at his command. 

A facsimile of another foreign body.