Mirror by Blanche Shoemaker Wagstaff Quiet Waters, 1921
"Getting through Grad School" by Liz Hildreth — Randolph Street Market, 11.23. 14
Poem Topic “Finishing Graduate School”
An ad agency challenged me to write a poem for their presentation with the theme authenticity. It felt like serendipity since I have been thinking a lot about it lately. Here is what I came up with. Normally don’t write in first person. #authenticity #frankielliot
World’s End by Alice Corbin The Spinning Woman of the Sky Poems, 1912
In celebration of American Archives Month, the National Archives is teaming up with the The Academy of American Poets. Throughout the month we’ll be publishing original poems inspired by the holdings of the National Archives. To view the poets performing their original work, visit the National Archives YouTube Channel.
Today’s poem, “In the Event” by Joshua Weiner, was inspired by a photograph of the Wright Brothers’ original aeroplane during its first flight in 1903.
Brothers Orville and Wilbur Wright began experimenting with aviation in 1896 at their bicycle shop in Dayton, Ohio. They first began with manned gliders and traveled to Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, in 1900 to test their crafts.
For the rest of the story, including Joshua Weiner’s poem and video, read today’s Pieces of History post: http://blogs.archives.gov/prologue/?p=14300.
Image: “Original Wright Brothers 1903 Aeroplane (‘Kitty Hawk’) in first flight, December 17, 1903. (National Archives Identifier 7580929).http://research.archives.gov/description/7580929.
In celebration of American Archives Month, the National Archives is teaming up with the The Academy of American Poets. Throughout the month we’ll be publishing original poems inspired by the holdings of the National Archives. To view the poets performing their original works, visit the National Archives YouTube Channel.
Today’s poem, “Mango Poem” by Regie Cabico, was inspired by documents within the National Archives related to the Philippine-American War (1899–1902).
After the United States defeated Spain in the 1898 Spanish-American War, Spain ceded the colony of the Philippines to the U.S. in the Treaty of Paris.
On February 4, 1899, just two days before the U.S. Senate ratified the treaty, fighting broke out between American troops and Filipino nationalists. Led by Emilio Aguinaldo, the nationalists wanted Philippine independence.
For the whole story, including Regie Cabico’s poem and video, go to today’s Pieces of History blog post: http://blogs.archives.gov/prologue/?p=14308.
Image: 17th Infantry head for action in the Philippine Islands. (National Archives Identifier 533179).http://research.archives.gov/description/533179.
In honor of Sylvia Plath’s birthday, here’s a sampling of our archival Plath letters: http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/academy-archives-letters-sylvia
The Unlooked-for
Sour
My flesh turns sour, so viscid
When he mouths
“I choose you.”
Every layer of my skin
Craves friction
When he mouths
“I choose you.”
The light slowly licks my eyes
And I see
A stage..
Palms on my face
I soak
“I can’t…”
I crash out
Thrusting the cab’s doors open
“I can’t!”
And I overwhelm
the vehicle
With the ocean
That lives inside of me.
And the windows
begin to crack.
So I close
those two sore windows
to the world.
- http://meizra.tumblr.com/
This artists’ book is a collection of short poems by Sandra McPherson which were letterpress printed. These poems are displayed on paper of different patterns and colors, bound in a concertina binding, which resemble a friendship quilt when viewed near the end of the book. While the text of each poem disappears as the reader turns the page, the author of the poem remains uncovered, and is displayed throughout the entirety of the book.
There were many contributing authors and artists involved in this work: Sandra McPherson, Claire Van Vliet, Katie MacGregor, Nancy Southworth, Tamar Thorne, Id Kohl, Judi Conant, and Mary Richardson. The works of these poets were compiled by Janus Press, which you can read more about here.
-Kelly
McPherson, Sandra et al. Designating duet. [West Burke], Vt. : Janus Press, 1989. Call #: PS3563.A4555 D47 1989. See the catalog record.
Songs of a Girl by Mary Carolyn Davies The New Poetry: An Anthology, 1918
you invited me to your apartment in hopes of pairing me with someone else
but i felt something raw and stark and strong and unavoidable when i looked at you
something that i have apparently missed in the ten months that we’ve known each other
for the first time, i wanted to feel your...
Two poems by Christina Olson Illustrated by Meghan Murphy
So one day you’re in the yard, and this poem pulls up at the curb. This poem wants to do you in the backseat of the first car you ever owned, which it just happens to be driving. This poem will stick its tongue in your ear, call you baby. In its backseat, you’ll twist like a white snake, aroused by the sight of your own pale calves, when did they get that muscle tone, you’ve still got it, oh yes you do. Later, you smoke a cigarette while the poem names all the North American ducks it can…
The Spinning Woman of the Sky by Alice Corbin, 1912
Poetry found in a book.
nothing need be explained
If you wrote a book about your life, what quotation or piece of poetry would you want for an epigraph?
If you can, take a picture and use the #reblogbookclub tag.
Post-Romantic
I'll leave us with St. Jude; with the ghosts of one-night lovers lingering in empty parking lots and dark alleyways, dirty stairwells in old buildings, in the backrooms of cold and rusted hearts.
I liked us best dishonest, sleep-deprived, when our words slurred enough to make sense. I'm afraid we're merely ephemeral, like the red glow of our cigarettes across the church lights in the distance, sending smoke signals to God as if already we sought some sort of salvation.
Let me tell you a secret: the shortest distance between point you and point me is galaxies apart.
Case in point: In this world I can love a stranger for a moment; every scene romanticized: make stars out of streetlamps and fathom constellations in the whiskey of your eyes; pretend to like your aftertaste of ashes, of warm beer and coffee breath; throw our wounded hearts out at sea, pus oozing out the arteries as it sinks below the waves; taste the sea-salt on our tongues when our lips come together. (I take it back, I liked us best as strangers. It's easier, falling in love with ideas.)
But for every lie there is a universe of truth in the next galaxy, a million of mes and yous coming together and falling apart, over and over. Isn't it romantic? We are forever in theory, in the darkness of the nebulae; we live in supernovas and collapsing stars. Somewhere in the infinite we are more than ghosts and lost causes, more than stumbling souls clinging desperately to each other, to the surface of this ever-spinning earth. Be consoled: written in the stars is a we who deserve each other. (but that's a rather sad story isn't it? In this world my stories all end with someone leaving, and I'll be damned if you ruin the plotline.)
Yesterday you gave me a mix tape, romance like in those old 80's movies. But I don't need your sad songs, my darling. I've got my own, beating out of my ribcage.