No, not with this post. Don't be silly. I'm barely keeping up with the Poetry Month Works of the Day. But, soon, I will be posting about some great readings attended in recent months (man, I used to be able to say weeks there, but, not really any longer).
So, tune back in soon to read about Liesel Litzenburger's return to the UM, catching Christina Kallery at Poet's Follies in Grosse Pointe, the last Snowbound Series reading with JoAnna Karner, Kawita Kandpal (all she did was bring about 80 people to tears with her words), and Vievee Francis (her second books is going to be a freaking MONSTER), then there was the Thomas Sayers Ellis reading, and an Inside Out Literary Arts Project reading with Nandi Comer, Vievee Francis and Matthew Olzmann.
In the past four weeks I've had the pleasure of hitting Ann Arbor one night in the middle of each. This was to catch Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Tom Bissell, Ander Monson and Arthur Phillips. For the last three you readers will get some bonus information as I was fortunate enough to be asked to tag along to their post-reading activities - let's just say Bissell's got an entourage like one Vinnie Chase. The other two, slightly smaller, yet no less cool to hang out with.
Looking forward to sharing my impressions and notes soon.
4 June 2007
After the storm, my mind cleared.
And a high wind arose and blew the tropics north.
running quartz crystals through a blender.
sand through your engines.
bubbles in your bays.
estuaries reaching out toward forbidden seas...
sand through your eyes.
5 June 2007
Calm as baby's breath
as peaceful as the storm's eye
Clouds spread and drawn with rough strokes of stratospheric winds
a warm and windy tropical day.
7 June 2007
Black water at dusk.
Lighting on the horizon.
Warm winds coming in across the darkening waters.
A flash of white wings as an egret takes flight.
And Thunder like God clearing his throat.
8 June 2007
Morning star in the still of the clear, dark waters.
a sky as clear eyed as a young girl.
bruised and tattered storm remnants limp off in the gathering light.
9 June 2007
Tickled her fancy.
giggling all the day long.
pretty good for a Saturday.
Clouds on the lake floating aimlessly by.
She smiled big--grinned really.
12 JUne 2007
A silver sky
ripe for the mirror.
you can not see yourself in this mirror
you can only see others
moreover, you can only see what others choose to expose.
Their houses, their boats, their sea-doos.
Birds skimming low over the water could
like as not
see them selves if they were to look down
as they skim low over the water
but they never do.
Rather they allow their reflections to chase them
quick and sharp over the still, glistening waters
while the bird's mind remains ever fixed on
food, or other birds, or escaping those damn noisy humans.
A dense forest impenetrable as a gaze.
13 JUne 2007
Like angry bee's eyes
the metal screen seen through the bamboo blinds.
A million insects dot the lake spreading micro ripples
14 June 2007
Of Fly Catchers and hidden lakes.
Of sleeping lizards and morning dew.
It is of birdsong and misty dawns
and fleeced clouds floating in a still pool.
The waters ripple awake in the gathering morn.
The first water birds head out for the far shore.
Posted by: Poetry | June 16, 2007 at 12:09 PM