Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Come visit me in my new space :)

Hi dear friends and readers,

Since graduating with my MLIS degree, I've decided to build a new website aiming to consolidate my poet and librarian leanings. If you come check it out, I promise you'll find:

My new Blog 
Essays on Librarianship
Learning Module for Bookmarking Tools to facilitate new tech knowledge
One LibGuide to Women of the SF Bay Area Poetry Community
CV and recent Talks

I hope you'll come join me in my new space:apoetlibrarian.wordpress.com

Until then,

Thursday, April 18, 2013

in the forest

in the forest
new shades of gnarled
curling, the trees
shape their wounds
wrap around
each other
like comfort

false translation exercise – Day 16 catchup

I thought it would be fun to practice doing false translations, so I took the writing prompt from NaPoWriMo as a jumping off point for Day 16, But, I’m posting it today because life. Since I first learned about this exercise while studying with Diane di Prima, I’ve become more compelled by this idea of the vagaries of translation: from language to language, from perspective to perspective, from identity construct to identity construct. How all we are and see and do alters our translation and perception so that really, everything becomes a translation filtered through our human, our animal skins.

I do not especially like this poem. In fact, it irritates me and I almost feel shamed by it. I’m posting it anyway because fuckit. (original poem follows)

Bimbo, nestled placenta
Bimbo, in cup of media
Morbid curtain of Pele
Enduring the putana
Rose red, flame of what disgrace
Red of your bloody body tongue
Appending the fat
Bimbo, ladled out there.

Bimba nella
placenta, bimba
sotto coperta,
nella corteccia
morbida di pelle,
indurita dal
bosco, rossa
come scottata,
rossa che nuoti nel
tuo sangue,
appena fatta, bimba
qui scodellata.

© Elisa Biagini
From: Cappuccio Rosso
Publisher: Einaudi

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Dictionary Poem

Cleavage appears first
Any member a mouth

Developing indeterminate isotopes
The sea squirts, the fish in layers

A penetration of epithelial
A substance of killing

To draw in water
A baby, a cloud
The edentate
Colorless material relating

Latitudes for the sidereal
Established for the treelike

Used furs a number of ornamental loops
Haunt of the ferocious

Armor from the splinters
I made my own scaffold

Granular anthems the shrub of a genus
Sometimes used as a gemstone
Married, transparent, from rendered fats

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Dinner with Phoenix and Aphrodite

My son (6) asked: “where do people go when they die?” I explained that no one really knows, but that people have different theories - sometimes based on which religion they believe in, and whether or not they believe in God. He quickly maintained that he does not believe in God, which he’s mentioned before. So, I asked him what he believes in.  He replied: “I believe in you. I believe in love. I believe in the goddesses.”

The mother of love says go on give it open up
The crown heart thrush rises – to overlook precipice
Take aim, glowing out light embers
Cicatrix phosphenes in the fire radial

Belly was the boulder belly the chasm
Upright stone slab – a storm of grey wanting
She lifts, fragments:

Membrane wing,
two breath,                         flesh devour

Spiny,                                     comb bearer,                                                 little ring


Love says: look and I am you.

Friday, April 12, 2013


In the garden

I water                        I watch

The lace-winged labor of play
The animals loll and swat at plants

Fur rubs the sidewalk
Camouflaged skins burrow inside
Fur lines the flesh light

In the gnawing chew             of sidewalk hum
I played street games

The sun a vector                                     I hid in the cool dark

Aimed cue ball at bruised knuckles
My father taught me

How to hurt
How to be pennies

On the fire escape             I grew like a dandelion
Greedy for pigeon talk and flowered skirts

I wanted to be a garden
So I doused myself with hosewater

Painted my arms with thorns
In the wandering dusk

How to be a fortress
Tenement of my red mouth

How to be quiet
Dig under the belly
Lift the stone slab

(from a writing prompt by Elizabeth Treadwell and anthologized in “Hereditament”: http://secretmint.blogspot.com/2013/04/hereditament-flash-anthology-no-2.html)

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Gloria (for Elizabeth Treadwell)

To you in the highest
Comestible sunset
A celestial body outlaw
Close enough to dump material
on that other star

Mad math of the prism
Mother of light
Helios – mouth of the annelid
Of invertebrate starts
Maw of the under beyond
Pineal subways, circulatory systems, sudden moon phases
Pumping vessels flowering ganglia

Gloria, fair
Gloria, olive
Gloria, midnight
Ejecting plasma

(anthologized in Elizabeth's flash anthology: http://secretmint.blogspot.com/2013/04/gloria-flash-anthology-no-1.html)

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Light: NaPoWriMo Day Ten

When light sticks inside bodies
The viscous imaginary
A protective sheath, a plastic coating, a waterfall

Orbital schema – an awkward grinding
Grey over buoyant grey, a rainbow scrape

When light sticks inside bodies
Bug jelly maths
Porifera make new hydras
Give Zeus the finger
A parthenogenetic hum
stuns the ocean floor

Leaves shoot duodenal refuse
A vein of cellular debris
But, to chop it -
A clutch of pearls through the stained glass
A pawing at the branches

When light is a family of bones
When light deviates

Tuesday, April 09, 2013

to hear birds and insects in conversation: napowrimo day nine

Common, common, uncommon
Distinguished from other wrens
Distinguished from the loon

The daily biology of the yield
Grey matter on a micro slide
Rub hind legs against

Females of a few species produce soft noises
Both pairs of wings sometimes small or absent
Note the inconspicuous jerking of its long tail

The song higher
Feeding mainly on bright buffy underparts
Feeding mainly with bright scolding rattles

Wings stalked at base
Washed off abdomen
Spend an ocean attached

The carapace of haunt
A sound-producing apparatus
Restless, resemble, raptorial hind feet
Archery of a heart plucked back – its steel reverb, Listen.


Monday, April 08, 2013

NaPoWriMo Day Eight

There is a fur in making
Scratches markings on its dorsal side
Spins irregular – is disorderly – chances

Danger: Keep arms and legs inside
Covers abdomen, swallows pill, depresses tongue
A mother rat after the maternal heart

Torn from its parietal (parent)
Sponges and other invertebrates
Stand motionless with pedipalps raised

Sunday, April 07, 2013

NaPoWriMo Day Seven

The thin connective tissue a wedding song
Outside, an organism –
Gregarious leaping from branches
            A dull musical hum

            All coordinates marry distance
Measure hostility of an old heart
Slowly – a meat snap

A stitched wedding dress
The heart now feathers for plucking

Saturday, April 06, 2013

NaPoWriMo Day Six

Gallop, gastrointestinal heart cavity
The ridge just beyond
Horizon membrane
Pink, lavender, blood orange
A disarray of muteds
Lungs, give it all you got

*Today, I wrote poems in the bathroom and at the dinner table.  Writing on the weekends is tricky business! 

Friday, April 05, 2013

NaPoWriMo Day Five

The body met with an alter of the image of the body
What we see when we seek reflection
The ever a whisper an incandescent eye droop
Gravity seeking its own breasts cupped so the light can laugh too
How time makes us empathic for women we once reviled
Neglect and its chambers of dropped infants
The insouciance of stubbed cigarettes as woman spooned the creamed peas
Time is making my ankles heavy where I ripped and ripped out my roots
Extirpated that woman in the kitchen smock
Extirpated that idea of seeking permission

NaPoWriMo Day Four

There is no need to emerge
The general body plan is
solar, systemic, cnidarian

The mouth stings
Take your flea meds
Live above the float
Somersault tentacles

A separate free-swimming phylum
It's whole body reacts
Shake out the hydra's head