I don't know or remember where I've heard that quote. But I just thought about it. I suppose it's the moral, or at least similar to the idea that if the world gives you lemons, make lemonade.
This week has been a hell of a week. I will not relive it here. Just know, that I've been pissy and moody.
However, I decided to channel that energy into something productive. I decided to stop saying "I have enough poems for another manuscript" and actually produce it.
Tonight, I put together another manuscript.
A couple days ago, I assembled a chapbook.
Monday, I have to send it off, for a deadline, for the Crab Orchard Open Series. Within the next month, I need to send it to Tupelo for the Dorsett Prize.
Tis the season for sowing. Next season, reaping.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Friday, November 14, 2008
Community!
I've been so thankful that despite the recent and continual unraveling around me, I have poets and friends for support.
July and August I did month-long poetry challenges. I wasn't working, I had all day to think about my poem. It was an interesting exercise in watching, or monitoring, your process and watching it change. Undoubtedly, if you engage in even just one month-long challenge, your process will change. It's beautiful to watch, really.
Anyways. I don't believe I could sustain another month-long challenge, so I started doing these series of week-long challenges once a month. I use them to write poems for this specific project I'm working on. So it's like, I focus deeply for a week producing the poems, and I read the rest of the month and look for materials.
Here's today's poem:
Bird song
The call nearing 2am can’t seem
to dislodge itself from my ear even
after hours we’ve said good night
and I’ve rolled to the cold side
of my bed looking to fall back
into slumber. Last night I was
somewhere in Harlem, listening
to this bird sing and I know now
where women get the sorrow,
the low, guttural notes
to say You made me love you,
I didn’t want to do it, I didn’t –
and mean it. I’ve seen other sparrow-
women fly around the city with hope
caught in their beak looking to build
a nest. The wind outside sounds
a vortex, and the whistle wakes me
again, and your laughter is unraveling itself
from my memory. There is no settling,
just nights flapping wings outside
windows wondering what ifs, their weary
suppositions. The cup in our hands, unfilled.
(c) delana r.a. dameron
July and August I did month-long poetry challenges. I wasn't working, I had all day to think about my poem. It was an interesting exercise in watching, or monitoring, your process and watching it change. Undoubtedly, if you engage in even just one month-long challenge, your process will change. It's beautiful to watch, really.
Anyways. I don't believe I could sustain another month-long challenge, so I started doing these series of week-long challenges once a month. I use them to write poems for this specific project I'm working on. So it's like, I focus deeply for a week producing the poems, and I read the rest of the month and look for materials.
Here's today's poem:
Bird song
The call nearing 2am can’t seem
to dislodge itself from my ear even
after hours we’ve said good night
and I’ve rolled to the cold side
of my bed looking to fall back
into slumber. Last night I was
somewhere in Harlem, listening
to this bird sing and I know now
where women get the sorrow,
the low, guttural notes
to say You made me love you,
I didn’t want to do it, I didn’t –
and mean it. I’ve seen other sparrow-
women fly around the city with hope
caught in their beak looking to build
a nest. The wind outside sounds
a vortex, and the whistle wakes me
again, and your laughter is unraveling itself
from my memory. There is no settling,
just nights flapping wings outside
windows wondering what ifs, their weary
suppositions. The cup in our hands, unfilled.
(c) delana r.a. dameron
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Poem for today
because i'm trying to be good again and really keep up a blog, yo.
and because i love this woman, this poet. and because i needed to read it myself this morning. happy thursday. (the week is almost over)
Love,
you be the reason why
we swagger & jive,
lift the guitar, & pick up the axe.
when it is i tilt my hat to the side,
wearing colors & perfumes, it's cause, love,
you did it to me. oh,
you do sure turn my tongue to fiddle,
& make the salt taste sweet. man,
i don't need a rooster, or peacock even,
to help me spend my time, nope,
just you, love, right & solid as
a line.
(c) aracelis girmay
and because i love this woman, this poet. and because i needed to read it myself this morning. happy thursday. (the week is almost over)
Love,
you be the reason why
we swagger & jive,
lift the guitar, & pick up the axe.
when it is i tilt my hat to the side,
wearing colors & perfumes, it's cause, love,
you did it to me. oh,
you do sure turn my tongue to fiddle,
& make the salt taste sweet. man,
i don't need a rooster, or peacock even,
to help me spend my time, nope,
just you, love, right & solid as
a line.
(c) aracelis girmay
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Writing Sample
Not that I have a bunch of poems, but, well, I do.
I've dreaded this moment for a while now. In truth, it was the writing sample that kept me from applying to the appropriate grad schools in the beginning. I mean, how do you narrow down your work to 10 pages?
Anyone reading this -- what are your strategies for narrowing down?
I think I have 35 poems that are, for now, for the first round...musts.
Now. to say to 25 of them... you just didn't make the cut.
help!
I've dreaded this moment for a while now. In truth, it was the writing sample that kept me from applying to the appropriate grad schools in the beginning. I mean, how do you narrow down your work to 10 pages?
Anyone reading this -- what are your strategies for narrowing down?
I think I have 35 poems that are, for now, for the first round...musts.
Now. to say to 25 of them... you just didn't make the cut.
help!
i try to keep the walls from falling down
the title of today's blog is from Tracy Chapman. Beautiful woman. Beautiful song. It is one of those albums (telling stories) that reminds me of a time in my life. a whole time. i listen to this album now, and i am back in charleston, SC. it was the first time that I lived in my own apartment. when i started to work to pay bills to live in this world. it was my first real experience in "the real world".
mind you, i was still in college. i transferred out of chapel hill (perhaps i have a history of being decidedly undecided) to "finish" at the college. big mistake. i was enrolled full time and working two jobs. and loving this man i shouldn't be while crushing on my roommate a bit because he was always around when the other man wasn't.
it was a true situation of me trying to keep the walls from falling down around me. my two jobs paid a buck and some change above minimum wage. basically all of my money went towards rent. luckiy one of my jobs was a coffeeshop, and so I ate their food, drank their coffee. i did homework there. i lived there. i lived off of the 30some dollars i received from tips per week. i would buy a footlong veggie sub from subway and split it between lunch and dinner.
it made me realize, however, that i am a fighter. i made it through. i graduated, and moved up to new jersey only to face harder obstacles. higher rent, a car note, travel money (path, subway, bus...everyday), food, etc etc.
now i'm probably my most stable ever living in nyc. which i find ironic, as it is ont of the most expensive cities in the world.
where am i going with this? well...i'm trying to keep my life together. while i'm stable a bit, financially, i am unstable in relationships. those walls are falling down, down, down.
some of them i have asked to fall apart and away. a week ago i decided what things i wanted to see manifest. i asked for a full ride to graduate school, for a prize for my book, and for people in my life who are harmful to disappear. it's the letting go that breaks up everything that you know. it's why we don't let go. we hold on, thinking we're holding things together, that to let go is to let all the walls fall down.
maybe i need to understand that letting go is keeping the walls from falling down.
mind you, i was still in college. i transferred out of chapel hill (perhaps i have a history of being decidedly undecided) to "finish" at the college. big mistake. i was enrolled full time and working two jobs. and loving this man i shouldn't be while crushing on my roommate a bit because he was always around when the other man wasn't.
it was a true situation of me trying to keep the walls from falling down around me. my two jobs paid a buck and some change above minimum wage. basically all of my money went towards rent. luckiy one of my jobs was a coffeeshop, and so I ate their food, drank their coffee. i did homework there. i lived there. i lived off of the 30some dollars i received from tips per week. i would buy a footlong veggie sub from subway and split it between lunch and dinner.
it made me realize, however, that i am a fighter. i made it through. i graduated, and moved up to new jersey only to face harder obstacles. higher rent, a car note, travel money (path, subway, bus...everyday), food, etc etc.
now i'm probably my most stable ever living in nyc. which i find ironic, as it is ont of the most expensive cities in the world.
where am i going with this? well...i'm trying to keep my life together. while i'm stable a bit, financially, i am unstable in relationships. those walls are falling down, down, down.
some of them i have asked to fall apart and away. a week ago i decided what things i wanted to see manifest. i asked for a full ride to graduate school, for a prize for my book, and for people in my life who are harmful to disappear. it's the letting go that breaks up everything that you know. it's why we don't let go. we hold on, thinking we're holding things together, that to let go is to let all the walls fall down.
maybe i need to understand that letting go is keeping the walls from falling down.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
November Run-Down
I am applying again to grad school. It is a pressing time, begging folks for letters of recommendation, etc etc. I am happy that it hasn't been as hard as it could be, though there have been some noted (and perhaps, expected) bumps along the way.
I would like to post the list of potential schools, but I think not only is it dangerous to do so (yes, I said it) but also...jinxing it. Let's just say, I believe that this time around will be a good one.
In other news, the book! "How God Ends Us" is coming along smoothly. Everything according to plan and deadlines. The next step: I receive the typeset pages. I am supposed to send off my acknowledgments page. I promised them that on Monday. Maybe I am behind. Ugh. Tomorrow. That is my plan for tomorrow. While I already have one, I want to make everything is covered. I want to make sure everyone is properly thanked that should be.
Plans are in process for website development. And book party. I plan on having a multi-city launch. Part of the cool thing with the organization, the Poetry Initiative, that sponsored the prize is they put together a book launch. So I'll have a book launch at home. I'm trying to plan a book launch in NYC. Or two. Or several. Is that doing too much?
Other projects/things going on in my life at the moment: I've been doing a series of week-long poetry challenges with friends. It's good because I'm only really responsible for one week of poetry a month. The rest that happens, I'm thankful. Other than that, I don't freak out. And I still have pretty good progress towards things I'm working on.
I've put together a chapbook from my work this summer. I call it "kingdom: animalia". Someone suggested I look for an illustrator. I might do that. It could be a cool project. I'm also going to submit it to a couple of presses, maybe.
What else? I'm writing about Harlem for a larger "project" and in that, too, about NYC. It fascinates me, I guess you could say plainly. I'm taken by the city for reasons unknown. I'm taking that fascination and channeling it. And publishing it.
I treated myself to a poetry book today. It has been a while since I've treated myself to a poetry book. I was looking for Jericho Brown's book (which everyone has been drooling over) in the stores in NYC. Something about ordering books -- I'm so impatient. Anyways. I stopped in Strand and picked up a book since I couldn't find one that I wanted. Not to say the book I chose was a bad choice, it just wasn't what i was going for...but when the poetry appetite is roaring, it cannot go unfed. I picked up C. Dale Young's "The Second Person". I've never read anything of his. Which, this, too, is a treat. Sometimes I go and pick up books that I've never considered on my radar.
I'll post more about it as I read. I'm also reading 2 fiction books: The Secret Life of Bees and Claude McKay's Home to Harlem.
Other than that, just laying low, grading papers, teaching writing...educating the masses. I keep thinking: if I were 200 years removed, what I would be doing would be considered illegal. granted, my own education would be illegal. But just think: my whole being: writer, teacher who is both black and female, who teaches only students of color how to read, write, and articulate themselves...yes. I sort of like that.
Okay -- back to the grad school and work grind.
I would like to post the list of potential schools, but I think not only is it dangerous to do so (yes, I said it) but also...jinxing it. Let's just say, I believe that this time around will be a good one.
In other news, the book! "How God Ends Us" is coming along smoothly. Everything according to plan and deadlines. The next step: I receive the typeset pages. I am supposed to send off my acknowledgments page. I promised them that on Monday. Maybe I am behind. Ugh. Tomorrow. That is my plan for tomorrow. While I already have one, I want to make everything is covered. I want to make sure everyone is properly thanked that should be.
Plans are in process for website development. And book party. I plan on having a multi-city launch. Part of the cool thing with the organization, the Poetry Initiative, that sponsored the prize is they put together a book launch. So I'll have a book launch at home. I'm trying to plan a book launch in NYC. Or two. Or several. Is that doing too much?
Other projects/things going on in my life at the moment: I've been doing a series of week-long poetry challenges with friends. It's good because I'm only really responsible for one week of poetry a month. The rest that happens, I'm thankful. Other than that, I don't freak out. And I still have pretty good progress towards things I'm working on.
I've put together a chapbook from my work this summer. I call it "kingdom: animalia". Someone suggested I look for an illustrator. I might do that. It could be a cool project. I'm also going to submit it to a couple of presses, maybe.
What else? I'm writing about Harlem for a larger "project" and in that, too, about NYC. It fascinates me, I guess you could say plainly. I'm taken by the city for reasons unknown. I'm taking that fascination and channeling it. And publishing it.
I treated myself to a poetry book today. It has been a while since I've treated myself to a poetry book. I was looking for Jericho Brown's book (which everyone has been drooling over) in the stores in NYC. Something about ordering books -- I'm so impatient. Anyways. I stopped in Strand and picked up a book since I couldn't find one that I wanted. Not to say the book I chose was a bad choice, it just wasn't what i was going for...but when the poetry appetite is roaring, it cannot go unfed. I picked up C. Dale Young's "The Second Person". I've never read anything of his. Which, this, too, is a treat. Sometimes I go and pick up books that I've never considered on my radar.
I'll post more about it as I read. I'm also reading 2 fiction books: The Secret Life of Bees and Claude McKay's Home to Harlem.
Other than that, just laying low, grading papers, teaching writing...educating the masses. I keep thinking: if I were 200 years removed, what I would be doing would be considered illegal. granted, my own education would be illegal. But just think: my whole being: writer, teacher who is both black and female, who teaches only students of color how to read, write, and articulate themselves...yes. I sort of like that.
Okay -- back to the grad school and work grind.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
long time
I've been away for way too long. My last real post was in August. Since then, my life has been whisked from under my feet and getting from day to day upright is a struggle. A struggle I sometimes lose.
Big news: I bought a new bed. This is significant because I prided myself once in my ability to pack up my life and go...just go away from here. or there. or anywhere I was "living". All of my moves happened by packing up my car. That's it. My life has been able to fit into either a Suzuki Esteem or Honda Civic. Two doors.
So I brooded over it for a week. I shopped over the internet for the perfect bed. I found a place that delivers on the same day and assembles it. Long story short, the bed didn't get put together until Tuesday, which gave me lots of time to brood about how I really couldn't afford the bed, but that I needed it...or how the bed was symbolic for putting my feet into nyc...which is saying that I now have to fight to stay here. This is pure Darwinism right here. It's flight vs. fight. I'm saying that I plan to fight. Because I have roots here. I've bought matching curtains. I am scheming on a new desk and bookshelves. I am scheming on settling in.
Big news: I bought a new bed. This is significant because I prided myself once in my ability to pack up my life and go...just go away from here. or there. or anywhere I was "living". All of my moves happened by packing up my car. That's it. My life has been able to fit into either a Suzuki Esteem or Honda Civic. Two doors.
So I brooded over it for a week. I shopped over the internet for the perfect bed. I found a place that delivers on the same day and assembles it. Long story short, the bed didn't get put together until Tuesday, which gave me lots of time to brood about how I really couldn't afford the bed, but that I needed it...or how the bed was symbolic for putting my feet into nyc...which is saying that I now have to fight to stay here. This is pure Darwinism right here. It's flight vs. fight. I'm saying that I plan to fight. Because I have roots here. I've bought matching curtains. I am scheming on a new desk and bookshelves. I am scheming on settling in.
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