Nooooooooo!

Here's a draft I've been working on. I dunno.

Cape Disappointment, WA
Is that how you are these days?
Like the Graveyard of the Pacific?
I am a bit.
--Anne de Marcken

This shore shall be named
after my disappointment so that

my disappointment can jut far
out into the ocean.

Future travelers will have to build
a lighthouse to warn passing ships

of my disappointment, which is
a threat on foggy nights.

Lewis and Clark will plant
a flag proudly atop

my disappointment,
though I had claimed it first.

Troops will arrive
to fortify my disappointment.

My lush disappointment which
supports a bounty of vegetation

and therefore allows wildlife to thrive.
Eventually, a national park will be

erected around my disappointment
and tourists will flock. On legal holidays,

on Sundays after church, families
will picnic along the sands of my

disappointment. I should be --
but how can I be? -- glad

for them. My disappointment
has erased all our names.

YESSSSSS!!

You may have to scroll a bit, but I hope you'll be as relieved and elated as I am that Jon Pack approves of giant fiberglass statuary.

I lopped my hair off into a long bob and dyed it black. I feel like Siouxsie Sioux-Tyler-Moore.

The Crow on the Left Weighs 3,000 Pounds

I am going to suffer yet another insufferably bad photo of me to share this piece of fiberglass statuary with you all. I have made reference to the world's largest fiberglass crow on many occassions but had not, as yet, coughed up proof.

This is another of those combinations that just slays me. You see, my bird fetish is well-documented, but my strong feelings in favor of large fiberglass statuary has remained somewhat private. It took me a while to come to terms with it.

See, what I believe to be my very earliest memory is this: one of my parents placed me on the mocassin of the statue of Hiawatha which looks out over Lake Superior in Ironwood, MI. My paternal grandparents lived there. The folks wanted a photo, so whoever put me up there stepped away from me to get out of the shot. I remember how nervous I felt because I thought I'd lose my balance and fall, and furthermore, there were some holes in the fiberglass where the mesh underneath was showing that I thought I could perhaps fall through. I have a physical memory of figuring out how to maneuver my limbs if I was compelled to have to crawl down myself. I was pretty sure I would not succeed without injury.

It was dread-inspiring and kitschy fun. I was on a big foot! I could plummet to my death!

I revisited that statue of Hiawatha a couple years back and was surprised to learn that the top of the foot is just about 18 inches long or so. This means I must have been a peanut when the photo was taken, less than a year old.

Plus, anyone who hasn't visited the midwest should know that almost every small town has its fiberglass mascot. These crows are in Belgrade, MN, by the way. (Plus I'd like to mention, it was 20 below zero, Belgrade is 2 hours from the Twin Cities, and the crows were our sole destination. Al and Johanna rock.) Where I was born, Bemidji, it was Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. There are giant carp, cowboys, snowmen, milkmaids. These, evidently, define something about us. And I used to be embarrassed of that. Can you imagine?

(photo: Al Iverson)

how does your composition teacher stimulate herself intellectually during finals week?

Thanks, Nebraska

Sarah and Juliet and I enjoyed twenty hours of Lincoln, NE. Check out what our beloved hosts Mathias
and Zachary had to say. Though I missed both the Roller Skating Museum and the Telephone Museum, I enjoyed my tour of the Schomburg Library and had reason to deeply explore my feelings concerning mesh shirts. More later...

Well Hell.

No fair! I wanted to be scary. My favorite color is blood red and I rejected authority in high school and still this is my result:

You Are Not Scary

Everyone loves you. Isn't that sweet?

How Scary Are You?

It's because I said I like kitties. I know it!


In other news, I found a new reason to be psyched about the Lincoln Trip: Ta Dah!

Crap. I am not scary. At all.

OH WAIT I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE KITTIES!

I went back and retook the quiz and ONLY changed my dream pet from "kitty" to "medium sized dog" (named Solomon) and this is my new result:

You Are Scary

You even scare scary people sometimes!

How Scary Are You?

Now I wish I were less scary.
Ho hum.

Peanuts will be provided!

The Clean Part folks really make the coolest reading posters I have ever seen.

Yet another poem I wish I wrote

Nostalgia for the Infinite
-by Christina Davis

Each time we moved,

I wanted to come back as a tree
and each time we stayed, as a bird.

Does anyone ever ask to return as himself again?

I wanted to be a tree
and myself-seeing-the-tree,

a bird and myself-being-the-bird.


O creatures-in-law...

Two June Readings

St. Paul, MN:June 15th, 7:00pm: Micawbers Books
Lincoln, NE: June 17th, 7:00pm: The Clean Part Reading Series

Both with Sarah Fox and Juliet Patterson.
You can refer to us as this lot.
No you can't.
But I still hope anyone in the neighborhood will come on out.

Fargo and First Graders

My friend Steph just sent photos from the reading at Zandbroz in Fargo last April. This is the very first display we came across of Sarah, Juliet, and my books!
I also tried to scan in the small article that was printed in the Fargo Forum which my mom just brought over last week. Not because it's ever so titillating to get press, but because on THE BACK of the cut out article, there was a story about some teens who tried to rob David Copperfield and how he used sleight (sp?) of hand to show them his pockets were empty. This combines two of my favorite subjects: illusionists and foiled robberies!
In other news, if anyone ever becomes overwhelmed with the knowledge that poetry is underappreciated in our country, I highly recommend being a guest poet in a first grade class. I had the honor of visiting Farnsworth Elementary last Friday and hearing the work of the students in Mr. B's class, who are hard at work on such technical elements as rhyming "bat" and "cat." One of the most imaginative poems I was read concerned a line of coyotes (cuyd = coyote)searching for limes while grownups hid on the ceiling. I loved it! After my hour was over and I had to leave, I was given a standing ovation and bumrushed for hugs by a quarter of the class! I would be curious to visit other higher level classes now to try to pinpoint at exactly what age it happens that creativity and genuine emotion are successfully trained out of the majority of us.