words, words, words










 
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If you'd like to volunteer for the Russ Carnahan campaign for U.S. Congress Please give our offices a call at 534-2004 or email me at stephen@russcarnahan.org

biologic show
secret kings
waremouse
cucalambe
chrisafer
dogpoet
brent
salon
jeff
cho
rob



places to visit:
Center for Theology and Social Analysis
Lynda Barry
astralwerks
Sherman's Lagoon




Another place I write:
Queerday




relevant pasts:
fear of sunrise
manboylove
peaceful
soup
objection
who are you?
birthday
one year










 
If I begin to detail myself here, will you understand?



P. I am me
Q. I don't always know exactly who that is
R. I am Quaker
S. I like words and playing with them
T. I like genmaicha tea
U. I like the word napkin more than most others
V. I spend time walking my neighborhood
W. I cook rice often
X. I sleep well most every night
Y. I eat large amounts of fruit and vegetables
Z. I munch, sleep, write, create, cook, bike, watch, walk, listen, hope, learn, drink, live, breathe, touch, know, question, taste, copy, read, stare, carry, talk, dance, finger, try.





raisin@gmail.com



albums:

Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs
Erasure: I Say, I Say, I Say
Depeche Mode: Black Celebration
The Beach Boys: Pet Sounds
Marvin Gaye: What's Going On?
David Bowie: Hunky Dory
George Michael: Listen without Prejudice
George Gershwin: Porgy and Bess
Yo La Tengo: And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out


songs:

Wild is the Wind: Nina Simone
Come Undone: Duran Duran
Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini: Rachmaninov
My Funny Valentine: Chet Baker
Feeling Yourself Disintegrate: The Flaming Lips
This Must Be the Place: The Talking Heads
Hyperballad: Bjork







many napkins
 
Thursday, February 13, 2003  
Last month, Mrs. Laura Bush called on some poets to come to the White House for a poetry symposium. One poet, in response, circulated to other poets asking them to bring their anti-war poetry for the day. Apparently, Mrs. Bush heard about the plan and cancelled the affair. In response, Sam Hamill contacted as many poets as he could to continue writing anti-war poetry. He restarted the poets against the war group, apparently strong during the Vietnam war. He then proposed that poets create antiwar poetry readings on February 12th, when the White House had originally invited them to attend. In an opinion piece, Leonard Garment says this was a failing on the parts of the poets who ruined what could have been a good poetry exposition. Having attended and read a poem at a St Louis anti-war poetry reading to honor this affair, I definitely feel that poets around the country got more out of Laura Bush's snub than she could have intended. People now know even better how the White House feels about art, that it only holds value when it serves their purposes. Also, Mos Def and Arthur Miller are planning a large anti-war gathering to protest all these goings on.
It's been far too long since I had worked on poetry, but I felt with all the writing I've been doing, I hopefully can come up with a decent idea. I hate quick poetry - it ought to be long and drawn out, something that takes months to complete, but here's what I worked on the past two days and read last night (yes, my first poetry reading! I'm so proud of myself for standing up and reading this to a group of people).

Do you see this hand, up in the air?
I raised this hand to say I would serve.
Do you see this hand?
I thought it could help my country.
Do you see this hand, open and strong?
It picked up a gun to follow a lead.
Do you see this hand?
It saluted the fight, the age-old tradition.

I saw this hand, with many others
Letting go of its freedom, hoping for pride.
I saw this hand
Wanting to be right, thinking I had to fight.
I saw this hand, curiously armed,
Learning about truth, turning pages of our history.
I saw this hand
Accepting what I was told, anyway.

And then they fell, those towers,
fell on my world and fell on yours
crushing hopes, crushing safety.
I saw them fall as you did,
felt the people running towards me,
towards my only eyes, the camera in New York.
I couldn't grasp all that death;
I wanted to fall too, to let go.
I grabbed something else instead.

And now, now, I see this hand
Holding new priorities, of life, of love.
I see this hand stretched out
Still hoping to help, but hoping to lead.
I see this hand
Letting go that gun, re-finding freedom.
I see this hand, powerful with spirit
Carrying forgiveness, carrying compassion.

I give you this hand
and let go of anger, revenge, of perpetual warfare.
I give you this hand,
to save what I had pledged to destroy.

9:09 AM

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