CHOKE and Nick Cave

This is to be a magical weekend … another one thanks to you, Dove. The movie, CHOKE tomorrow and Nick Cave at the Riviera in Chicago on Sunday … along with some art galleries.

Life is weird and wonderful sometimes. But often this is difficult for me to remember when moods taunt me. But I know it now. For now. I never would have believed this Wondrous (I am turning this word into a noun … I like it like that) would have happened to me if you would have asked me several months ago. And it was all chance and a pub and Gina telling me that Charlie Chaplin anecdote to give me the courage to give my Dove my card. That is when it all opened up and light came through. For so long I was unhappy, not near the surface of my self, but deeply dug into me like a splinter. Though depression, my Anhedonia, is still a part of me, I have someone to help me when I need it with deep intimate affection and kindness. Something only a lover with so many truths can give.

I almost asked you, Dove, last night, if you loved me yet. It only took moments for me to love you. Your kindness permeates my heart. And this gift of Nick Cave and more Chicago … only a small manifestation of you. You lovely one with the lovely ears, the sweet birthmarks on your back resembling the Little Dipper. I stare at them so often when your back’s turned to me at night. The moon coming in your back window with its small and sweet mercy to show them to me. My little universe to admire, right there in front of me.

I hope CHOKE is as sexy and sardonic as I told you the book was … but I know Nick will just give us another wonderful twilight by which to see one another. But … if he plays “Into My Arms” from Boatman’s Call … I may cry … finally, though, it will be good cry.

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Published in: on September 25, 2008 at 3:57 pm  Leave a Comment  

hearts and hair … everywhere : an upper world journey

feeling still like my heart had been eaten, i decided i needed a heart to heart with my wisdom teacher (my deceased aunt shirley) in the upper world. this is, admittedly, the first time i have journeyed in a long while. up until the last week or more, things seemed smoother. things seemed repaired and ready again for use — my heart felt ready for something to grasp it but not grab it and that was happening.

dr. lou’s assignment being a creative writing exercise in storying pain led me back to this feeling of being detached … my mind from my body, my heart from me entirely. i was beginning to think maybe this was not the best exercise for me these days, but now i know it had to be now.

i am putting my ohio lonely chapbook on hold and writing a new one. one that needs to be written not only to fulfill an assignment in emotion and mood, but a heart retrieval. my heart being repossessed like a toyota, i will reclaim it fair and square.

this journey to the upper world tonight, took me to auntie’s cabin in the woods. the loft where she spent her last days of life, the loft that came to be called by my 15 year old mouth “the dead house.” i entered, as always through the back door which took me into the kitchen. there, i found 2 aunt shirleys … one young in short shorts and a white ruffled halter top leaning against the kitchen counter testing the balance of the cigarette between her lips. she looked at me bizarrely, even in a way to intimidate me while the elder shirley rolled out dumplings on the floured kitchen table in a denim smock splattered with paint and flour and handprints that looked like haunted and grappling leftover desperate hands taking her from all directions. she spoke to me with a tone of disappointment, pointing the rolling pin at me as if it were all now a threat. then as she grabbed scissors and began to haphazardly trim my bangs, she said i had not done my mending and that was why i was coming here now months later after believing i was suddenly and blindly ‘cured’ with happenstance happiness. i tried to say something and nothing came from my moving mouth. so i screamed and still nothing. then i listened. we didn’t always need words. after what felt like a long time, elder shirley hugged me and i felt it completely as if she were with me right then and i guess she was really. and then young shirley took her sassy eyes from the kitchen and retired to the couch just outside the kitchen propping her painted toenails on the coffeetable.

i knew i had to do this, write this, revisit things however unpleasant. the little bombs i hear in my ears these last couple of days, the words i will never forget another person saying to me. all of it. it is time. it may have never been time, but it is now.

eaten heart : a confession in poems

forthcoming …

painting by dorothea tanning

Published in: on September 23, 2008 at 3:23 am  Comments (2)  
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I have a new blog!

FearlessArt is a blog about ART!

Go there NOW: http://fearlessart.wordpress.com

Published in: on September 9, 2008 at 1:55 pm  Leave a Comment  

September 5th Art Hop at Kalamazoo Institute of Arts


I will be reading poems inspired by the current exhibit, Perspectives on Place, on Friday, September 5th from 5:30-7:00. I am only one of many poets who will be sharing their work that came from the current exhibit in the lower level gallery. Please support the poets, musicians, and local artists by attending this exhibit tomorrow! There is music, poetry and art to be enjoyed throughout the evening. Please visit http://www.kiarts.org and http://www.carriemcgath.com for more information.

Published in: on September 4, 2008 at 5:27 pm  Leave a Comment