my mission to find a manual typewriter has succeeded. I recently found myself a very dusty brother charger 11 typewriter & brought it home to fix up. it needed some cleaning & finagling plus a new ribbon but now she works! analog processes are more & more appealing to me with the ongoing slopification of the digital world. I’m excited to play with baby blue more.
poetry
get in loser we're making poems
a printable poetry mad-lib zine for my newsletter.
here’s my completed copy:
forever
in visual art, poetry, paper
poetry happy hour at 29 palms book festival
in poetry
read some poems from the poem-a-day project at the poetry happy hour as part of the 29 palms book festival this past weekend. since I’ve been experimenting with vintage tech & physical media, I recorded my session on my “new” panasonic slim line tape recorder.
kitty
born 1889, minnesota
she never married &
instead worked
house maid
hotel maid
the places they let
us be. each census
a row under a man’s
name until
san francisco &
”head of household”
scrawled beside
still a maid but now
on her own line.
poem-ing a day
about a month ago I decided to restart my poem-a-day project. I felt the poetry muscle atrophy & wanted to flex some creativity again, even in just some small way. being in the desert makes me think about the world, & art, & appreciate the little things – like the way the creosote sways in the wind or how the ravens call to each other to warn of coyotes – so I wanted to try again to find an outlet for that.
find the poems here or follow my instagram.
on going away
in poetry
leaving where
ever you've been
a home is a bee
with bright eyes &
lips of pollen
succulent & water
heavy like dreams
pavement to sand
stars to stars
somehow the leaving
hovers unreal
until there's no
going
back
help our sea
in poetry
february / march 2024 poem for aaron bushnell
in poetry
I don’t need a gun
I need the dark thick pit
curling around my stomach
to bloom into sweet lilies
I don’t need a gun
I need the stitches you’ve sewn
across your eyes to melt
under the heat of children’s blood
I don’t need a gun
I need the weeping
the wet hollowed wailing
to stop
st. medusa
in poetry, visual art, collage
medusa, the patron saint of not giving a fuck.
st. medusa, digital collage with poem, 2023
send us back
in poetry
where do you go when there’s nowhere to go?
september poem
in poetry
when the wind comes
& we’re laughing–
like the creatures
we can’t name in the woods
sharp gasps & cackles
breaking against bark.
we summoned the wind &
it carries us
it calls to our souls
to slither into the dark
we made the wind
so that it could unmake us.
july / august poem
in poetry
let’s encase ourselves
like bugskin
flesh against flesh
until we forget
what blood is
on being seen
12:18 - 53rd street - MoMA
what does it mean to be seen but not SEEN? maybe its the difference between observation & objectification? photographs are about seeing yes, but they’re also a way of erasing the viewer or the maker of the photographer. they’re like windows with one way glass. we can see in but they can’t see out. in fact, they don’t even know we’re looking at them. I guess that’s pure voyeurism.
sometimes they do know I suppose. it’s a different kind of feeling. more about being on display for a purpose. if you can even call it being on display at all.
everything becomes a performance OR it already was one.
to be seen
an eye immobilized
against grey. a
mystery–
that’s solving itself
& never revealing
its answers.
connections
in admin / news, poetry
I was contacted by a fashion graduate student a few months ago to use a poem I wrote as part of my poem a day project in a fashion film she was making. very interesting to see (& hear) poetry being used in this way.
still from reincarnation (2023)
the project was featured in l’officiel italia magazine, you can watch it here.
december / january poem
added to the poetry hotline.
she wanted to disappear
but not in the sense of seeking
death – instead like the last
rays of hot yellow sun slipping
into the pacific knowing
the water can’t touch them
call: +1.310.571.8284
call me
now live: poetry hotline
an audio poetry project. call in for a short poem updated monthly.
310.571.8284
missing the train
in poetry
laying awake in the early morning grateful for the choices I’ve made.
three los angeles poems
in poetry
love poem to the colour orange
in poetry, visual art