Friday, April 29, 2011
me (and some others) and Robert Bly
My poem, "Love Feast," was just released online at Grey Sparrow Press. . .if you'd like to see it, find Robert Bly (I'm a fan of his poetry, can you tell? I've dropped his name twice now) by clicking HERE, click on the woman in the hat, and scroll down until you find me. Thanks for reading!
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7 comments:
Wonderful!
So is your column this week.
I was contemplating that very subject on Easter.
(Great minds think alike, dear niece!)
The women that followed Jesus, and the apostles after he left took care of all their basic needs, and seamlessly.
No doubt some of them were wives.
We know for a fact that Peter was married.
And Jesus healed Peter's mother in law, who then got up and served them supper.
I think it was a true sign to all of the men when he first appeared to women at the Garden Tomb.
And several women of means financially supported Paul during his journeys. He mentioned them by name in thanks, something he rarely did.
It truly is a Holy task, motherhood!
Nice job. Did you mean for the middle to be ambiguous til the end? I liked it that way. And I especially liked the cadence of the whole thing. This from someone who typically will not read poems on nature, flowers, or food; you won me over.
thank you, all.
Amy, high praise indeed! Just out of curiousity, what subjects do you prefer to be rendered in poetry, if not all the essentials, including food? :) I think we should all write silly food odes. You go first.
I just can't take anything too precious. You know me--I'm a straight shooter, and I like my writing that way, too. With clear exceptions, but in general, that sums it up. Make sense?
Oh shudder. I would think that precious poetry would be, by definition, super, super bad. Just the world brings unhappy images of those silly figurines with Bible verses printed on the bottom.
Martin's watching this wacky music produced using a talk box. Ask Greg if he digs talk boxes.
Rock on, straight shooter. Where is my ode to a food? Amy! Where is it?
This morning I pushed
three carrots, one stalk of celery,
two leaves of kale, an apple and
one beet
through my ten dollar yard sale juicer.
I drank this. I drank this to push past the digestion of last night's meal.
Self-correction. I push, I drink, I fix, I am invulnerable.
(written in two minutes)
Does Greg like talk boxes? Yes, he does. Indeed, Greg considers them to be a sacred rite of passage: http://www.gregscheer.com/musicblog/real_good-amy.mp3
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