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Archive for January, 2013

Despite the fact
I know what comes
next, despite the fact
I have turned
this page before,
despite the fact
that I tell myself
I will not cry, I will
not cry, despite
the past dragged
up into this moment
like a featherless bird,
despite the sunlight
stretching across
the morning floor,
despite the whisper
that says it’s creepy,
and despite the fact
that it’s not my name,
not my story, not
my song running
so soon out of notes,
I still cry every time I read
those words again,
as long as I’m living
my baby you’ll be.

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Six Surprises

 

 

 

ears stuffed with wax—

now hearing Circe

on the inside

 

*

 

scraping the ink

off my pages, sending it

for biopsy

 

*

 

one palm open

in surrender, the other

rubs the genie lamp

 

*

 

not for your pleasure

the winter bird sings—

it sings

 

*

 

thinking I outgrew

myself, finding out

I still fit

 

*

 

surprise! the genie

says no to three wishes

gives fifteen instead

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The Weight of the Unknown: Writing from the unconstricted throat with Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

JANUARY 20, RIDGWAY, CO

10 A.M. TO 4 P.M.
We live in a culture that wants to know-we chart, graph, test, outline, classify, name and judge. But what of all the messiness, mystery and unruly potential that breeds beneath our longing for certainty? What would happen when we engage, as Adrienne Rich writes, with “the weight of the unknown, the untracked, the unrealized?” In this workshop we’ll explore how we might draw strength from “the great muscle of metaphor,” launching our poems and ourselves into the vast realm of possibility. We’ll read poems that lead us deeper into paradox and write poems that know more than we do. Let’s see what even a small bit of wonder might do …

This class is a reprise, back by request, with all new content but has the same emphasis on curiosity and play.

FOR MORE INFORMATION OR TO REGISTER, CALL 970-318-0150 OR GO TO THIS LINK: https://activenet006.active.com/weehawkenarts/servlet/adet.sdi;jsessionid=i7IQMN–bWXj+fev1VqeG1luaDQ?activity_id=898&show_all=&pagenum=1&paid=&online=true

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She says, How are you?

And there is no right way

to answer this. Tell her, Fine,

and she can smile and you

 

can smile and move on

to the business at hand.

Or tell her, Oh, you know,

and shrug, and then ask

 

about her day. There are

waterfalls inside you,

steep icy roads, sirens,

tall golden grass as far

 

as the eye can see,

and for every moment

that you might mention

to her—when he did this or they

 

said that, or you knew

whatever it was that you knew—

there is all the space

between those moments,

 

that space perhaps even

more important than

anything that happened.

How you felt the world

 

dissolve before it returned.

How everything spills,

ravels, pours out. It’s truer

than anything else you know.

 

But how do you say this?

So you say, Fine. Or you don’t.

You say, well, there’s no way

to say what you will say.

 

So you open your mouth,

wondering if a black bird

or a beetle or a little lie

or your heart might fly out.

 

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Woman
who dreams
of flying,
do not
be sad
because you
were not given wings.
Such strong legs you have, pushing against the air with every step, and such fine skin that stands at attention in prickly praise
as the wind
lifts you the
best
that it can.

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Still Rambling

Silence
I am tired
of evading
you.
Was that
your plan
all along,
to outwait me,
knowing
that sooner
or later
after all that
one-sided
conversation
and rumpus
I’d need a drink
of water
and take
by sweet accident
a sip

of you.

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While worrying
about tomorrow,
I make soup.
Sliver the onion,
thin white crescent moons,
and then peel the carrots,
slice them on the bias,
sauté, add dashi, add miso, add scallion,
and boil the udon,
till the whole house
smells of the rich golden broth
and that sharp little mouth
that ceaselessly sings
what if, what if,
is so busy observing
the tang of the ginger—
so pungent, so silver—
it (almost) forgets to insist.

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9780143121619

What could be finer than drink some wine, listen to poems, and talk about two of life’s most wonderful, mysterious and sensual experiences–our physical attractions to each other and our spiritual attractions to god. Sex and spirit. That’s how we’ll begin the new Poetry Club in Telluride on January 8 at Arroyo’s fine art gallery and wine bar on 220 E. Colorado Ave.

Led by Art Goodtimes,who will be sharing from Lenore Kandel’s collected works, and Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, who will share from Daniel Ladinski and Nancy Owen Barton’s new collection of Rumi poems The Purity of Desire, the evening is open to anyone who wants to join us, though we’re looking for members to support the new club. $25 annual memberships will be available. Members will receive regular updates on monthly meetings and special events. Membership contributions will be tax-deductible. The first person to sign up that night receives a free copy of The Purity of Desire.

Daiva Chesonis of Between the Covers will be offering chits to all attendees giving a 10% discount on one book at the bookstore. The first member to sign up at the Tuesday inaugural meeting will also receive a free poetry book.

“In Western culture, the erotic and spiritual are sometimes seen as opposite poles, but in many traditions – including indigenous cultures of the Americas – they are complementary aspects of the sacred,” explained Goodtimes.

After the reading and discussion, which the Wilkinson Library will film and post on YouTube, there will be an unfilmed gourd circle, where folks can bring erotic and spiritual poetry to share – either their own work or from poets they love, or they can just listen in as part of the circle.

The series will normally be held on the first Tuesday of each month and is thanks to the non-profit umbrella of the Telluride Institute and in collaboration with the Wilkinson Library, Arroyo Telluride and Between the Covers Bookstore.

For more information, contact Art Goodtimes, 970-327-4767, or Rosemerry at 970-728-0399.

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like playing piano well
this love, practicing
every day

*

show me, said the leaf
another way to see
the fall

*

trying to find
an oracle when it’s really
just a broken glass

*

cranes in the field!
or just geese—bidding the heart
to swell equally for both

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for Wendy Videlock

impossibly sweet
two notes played at once
on one flute

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