Barn Owl Review

I've been remiss in posting about Barn Owl Review, which debuts its first issue this week in New York. Founder Mary Biddinger is the only artist I know who has used Individual Fellowship money from the OAC to create something that features other artists' work. Well done, Mary (and the BOR staff)! (Also, there is a poem by yours truly in it.)

random stanza 12

I’ll walk the artificial streets again collecting
hair-do reliquaries and sob songs

cold day update 2

cold day update

Very rough draft of my thesis is with my director, Mary B., who has some brilliant solutions to some problems. It's a whopping 9 degrees outside and I'm out of coffee. Now that's a crisis! Read Jessica's blog Penzilla, about Georgia's "snowflake" day--hilarious. Went dog-shopping yesterday at the APL, and fell in love with a cat. Am reluctantly, nervously attending AWP in New York. It's completely sold out, which means lots and lots of anxious people. Hm.

roadtrip

The most fascinating structure in Washington, D.C.

A quick roadtrip with my longtime friend Jo to visit Kate, our other longtime friend, in Bethesda, Maryland. By longtime I mean from 4th grade. Non-stop talk, chatter, catching up, a nice outdoor fire, and heated political talk (it's in the air there). Childless, Jo and I watch how moms of teenagers organize and manage and coax their kids. I don't remember sleeping till noon, but I'm sure I did. I do vaguely remember giving my mother hard time...

Gorgeous weather, meaning cool air and sunshine. Like good tourists we went "downtown" and visited the American Indian museum--a gorgeous building, a strangely laid-out and presented collection. The most powerful object: one of three Ghost Dance dresses from 1890 made of animal hide, with a simple crescent moon painted green on the breast, and a green star on each shoulder. No photos allowed. The museum does not usually exhibit Ghost Dance material (too sensitive and special), but these dresses were part of a temporary exhibition. The dresses can't take too many white eyes on them.

Drove in rain and snow back to the land of gray.

procrastination

I wish I were one of those people who must clean the house when procrastinating.

Need to be in "lock-down" to work on my thesis, which, by the way (Frank) is now in 5 sections.

Haven't seen a movie in months and months, till last night. At the end of No Country for Old Men I burst out laughing, the only sound in the theater. When I saw the black-out signalling the end of the film, I thought, "No! They're not going to...will they dare to...yes, they are going to end the movie here!"

Those Coen Bros--I like them again.

hello oh eight

Check out two new poems in Hobble Creek Review, alongside my fellow poets Pam Anderson and Sara Tracey. (Clevelanders may recognize Tremont in one poem, Euclid Beach in the other.)

Obama and Huckabee. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but I am. A good speaker and a frank talker. Maybe it's all about verbiage, since we haven't had a coherent leader in awhile. Perhaps we like to hear people speak in full, hearty sentences. I'd like to believe in Obama, but am afraid he'll have to compromise at every turn, once he's among the slugs.

Oh yeah, we rang in the new year with the best of friends, excellent food, good drink, and a bit of buckshot falling out of the sky. After all these years still not used to the weapon-firing bonanza in the city at midnight.