In the last several years, I've come to describe myself as "artist" and "poet" as much as "teacher" or "daughter." As a schoolgirl, I was always polite to teachers and students but largely non-participatory, preferring to sit at the back of the room and watch everything. That early experience with observation became habit and I have lost hours, entire days even watching: lightning, mountains, ice melting, skies & shadows, crowds. I'm fascinated with light and shadow, and too with colors, shifts in energy and perception and opinion, words.
I write. Poetry, mostly, but sometimes a short story will leak out of my pen. I also paint with some in/frequency. I'm a photographer as well, and I often blend two or more of these Ps to create new or borrowed narratives. Most recently, I've been playing with tearing books apart to piece together new books from book pages, art, window screen, magazine pages, album covers and other flat media into something like a book collage.
My work has appeared online at Zingology, Spiral Orb, Corium Magazine, Unshod Quills and Blueprint Reviewq. Additionally, I created a hybrid book/art project which was adopted by the University of Arizona's Poetry Center.
I'm inspired by: paint chips, jellyfish, every color imaginable but especially (these days) lemon yellow, magenta, and blue-purple, conversations with friends, vintage pyrex, the mid-century aesthetic, words as art, the smell of rain in the desert, maps and ...
I used to trot out this quote by Jonathon Lethem about why he writes and still sometimes I think of it as my own reason. It's a little crass for polite audiences, and so I'll say this instead: I write because I don't know how not to write.
Favorite poems I've read:
Night in Blue (Brian Turner)
Pinacate Beetle by Erin Wilcox
footnotes to a history of desire by Kristy Bowen
Favorite books I've read:
Here, Bullet by Brian Turner
The Night Circus by Erin Morganstern
The Map as Art and You Are Here by Katharine Harmon
Sap Rising by Christine Lincoln
100 Days of Monsters by Stefan Boucher
the fever almanac by Kristy Bowen
In the Cut by Suzanne Moore
The Pleasure of My Company by Steve Martin
Favorite books I haven't yet read:
The Anthropology of Turquoise by Ellen Meloy
House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski
The Poetics of Space by Gaston Bachelard
Moby Dick by Herman Melville
The Architecture of Happiness by Alain de Botton
The Facts of Winter by Paul Poissel
tinder//heart (chapbook) by Lisa Cole
Aaron's book, Neha's Book
Thanks for your kind comments about "It's Always the Quiet Ones," Sina. It's great to make your acquaintance and I look forward to reading your work. - David
Thanks for your comment regarding "Remedial Reading".
dear sina---thanks so much for reading & commenting on my wee poem--cheers----gary
Sina, thanks for your recent comments on "What Some Boys Do!"
Thanks for commenting on my poem 'Playground,' I appreciate the feedback!
thank you for your very nice words about being punched in the right ways by "Extinction" !
And you, Copper! Hope the dreams carried you through the night and through most of today!
I'm glad you get it. Wonderful meeting you today. I'm off to dream something good. Keep in touch...
Not crazy...rather perfect! That's usually how I pick books to read...and I've got that list of fave books I haven't read. I get it.
In a month it'll be twenty years since. I was fourteen at the time and hadn't read a vampire novel. Had no interest in them. I don't even know where the book came from, only that I opened it one summer day.
"I see..." said the vampire thoughtfully, and slowly he walked across the room towards the window. For a long time he stood there against the dim light from Divisadero Street and the passing beams of traffic. The boy could see the furnishings of the room more clearly now, the round oak table, the chairs. A wash basin hung on one wall with a mirror. He set his brief case on the table and waited.
(Interview with the Vampire)
I feel crazy when I tell people (which is why I don't often say it), but it wasn't just the words themselves, it was how they're arranged on the page. The moment I looked at the page, even before I read the prose, I knew; like a seer must 'know' things when he/she looks into a scatter of bones or tea leaves. I 'saw' my life's meaning in that page.
Thank you Marcy!
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