Can you Really Adopt a Poet? You Betchya!!

If you're like me, your love affair with the written word has probably made you do some nutty things...from going back to your on again off again poet boyfriend to driving for hours in a thunderstorm to catch your favorite spoken word artist spit for just one night. So, what better way to support your addiction than by "adopting a poet!??!?! Technically, the money doesn't go to the poets (most of these cats have been chilling with their maker for years and years), but it does help with the upkeep of the Poets.org website. And, while the techies that are in charge of the upkeep are probably not "struggling artists," in the purest form of the word, they are helping to keep the written word alive in this digital word and personify everything that the Evolution of Paper means to me.

I've included a bit more info below. Check out the site here

Why?
Based on the popular "Adopt-a-Highway" programs that provide for the care and maintenance of our nation's roads, the Academy of American Poets has created an "Adopt-a-Poet" program to support the care and maintenance of this website.

By giving a special gift to adopt one of the poets on Poets.org, you can help us make critically needed upgrades and improvements to the site—and help us make sure that, in the coming year and beyond, we can continue to offer students, teachers, poetry enthusiasts and all Americans the most educational, entertaining, and comprehensive poetry resource available anywhere.

To adopt one of the poets on Poets.org, simply give a contribution of $30 or more and let us know which poet you want to adopt. Or, if it's possible for you to send a larger gift, you can adopt two poets for a contribution of $50, three for a gift of $70, or five poets if your contribution is in the amount of $100 or more.

Screw Fashion!! This is a Matter of Principle!

WTF Friends!! Just found a BBC.com article about a woman in Sudan that has been jailed for wearing trousers. She refuses to plead guilty to their trumped up charges and refuses to pay a fine for what the government is calling "dressing indecently." Although the fine amounts to about $200, she says she's not going to give legitimacy to their ruling by giving them a single penny. This woman is fierce and the defintition of a real feminist!! But why oh why do we live in a world where women are still being jailed and fined for wearing trousers!??! Madness!

In the words of my home girl Suheir Hammad - "I will dance and resist and dance persist and dance!!" Not for the sake of fashion, but because there is no progress without struggle!

Read more below -

Sudanese 'trousers woman' jailed
A Sudanese woman has been jailed for a month after refusing to pay a fine for "dressing indecently" by wearing trousers, her lawyers say.

Lubna Ahmed Hussein did not want to "give the verdict any legitimacy" by paying the fine of about $200 (£122), her lawyer, Nabil Adib, told the BBC.

Ms Hussein, a journalist in her 30s, could have been given up to 40 lashes.

Before the verdict, she had said she wanted her trial to become a test case for women's rights, correspondents say.

Ms Hussein had resigned from her job at the UN, which would have given her immunity.

"She thinks she was unfairly tried and convicted and was not given a proper chance to put her defence case," Mr Adib said.

He said Ms Hussein would appeal to both the Court of Appeal and the Constitutional Court.

Kamal Omar, another of Ms Hussein's lawyers, told the AFP news agency his client had been taken to the women's prison in Omdurman.

The BBC's James Copnall, at the court in Khartoum, says that Ms Hussein had previously said she was determined not to pay the fine but her lawyers had been trying to convince her to do so.

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Every Poem is a Love Poem

Nikki Giovanni, aka the freakin originator or all this poetry ish, tells us why all poems are love poems and explains her inspiration for her most recent work - Bicycles.

Enjoy!

Stuff I Write: The Work of Loving an Ocean

Every once in a while, my 9-5 extends me the good fortune of seeing another city besides the Nasty Nati (As we locals oh so affectionately refer to it). This time around, it was LA. And, while the man was trying to keep me down by having me spend all day Monday flying in, all day Tuesday working, and all day Wednesday flying back, I was able to sneak a few moments away for myself. Two moments to be exact.

In the first "moment," I reunited with my OSU bestie. Fellow accounting class flunkie turned law student. ::Heart:: We had an awesome dinner and, after the obligatory, “what have you been doing since undergrad Q&A session,” we had a really great conversation about life, law school, and the scariness of getting older.

In the second “moment,” I snuck away and went to the beach. I’ve always had this weird love affair with the beach and knew that I would forever regret being so close to the coast and not visiting my love:-) So, I grabbed a cup of Starbucks, hopped a cab and bounced off to Venice beach. It was early and still and, apparently, too early for the crazies and homeless folks to be out. I felt like I had the whole beach to myself (minus the studly surfer boys) and felt more than inspired to write. This is what came out of it.

Enjoy!

The Work of Loving an Ocean
BY Susan Baba

You come
And lick my toes coyly
If I didn’t know you, sly boy,
I would think you shy as you softly caress my feet
Ankles
Calf
Then my whole leg
White hand wrapping around me

Strong
Surrounding me
Threatening to take me with you
And, for a moment, completely mine
Before you pull away from me,
I surrender
Before you retreat,
I whisper a promise of forever
Come back, water lover
I promise to be everything you cannot be
Promise you legs to engulf
Flesh to hold on to
Promise to give you freedom
If only, you will belong to me
You come thundering back towards me
A white crescent of a man
Arms extended
Wooing me with your cool, inviting kiss
This is what love is like
Sometimes unrequited, yet filled to the brim with promise
Always stretching farther than the eye can see
I follow you
Wait for you
Puff up with joy when you return to me
Stand quietly
Preparing myself for your slow flirting
First toes
Then ankles
Claves
Knees
Your soft tongue licks them all
You’ve swept away countless lovers like this, I know
And though you’ll be gone again without notice
I’m prepared to dance like this forever.

Quote of the WEEK

"The inexorable passage of invisible & intangible time eats up all creatures. Knowing this the wise keep their attention on the timeless."

- Deepak Chopra

Hands By Sarah Kay

Whoa!! Another gem discovered by googling poem, YouTube. Lovely! Who ever thought you could slam for two minutes straight about hands, but Sarah Kay does it perfectly. I couldn't find much info about her online, but suffice it to say that she's amazing and needs to get a site up pronto! This mos def brought a smile to my face:-)

Enjoy!

Hands learn
More than minds do
Hands learn how to hold other hands
How to grips pencils and mold poetry
How to tickle pianos and dribble a basketball
And grip the handles of a bicycle
How to hold old people
And touch babies
I love hands like I love people
They are the maps and compasses with which we navigate our way through life

America - This is Why You're Fat

KFC "Double Down" Sandwich Replaces Bread With Fried Chicken



KFC (AKA the reason why we're fat) is test marketing a new sandwich that has two pieces of fried chicken (instead of buns), and includes bacon, two kinds of cheeses and "special sauce." I love my fried chicken, but this is redic! I must admit, though...I am intrigued.

For all you fat kids in Rhode Island and Nebraska, let me know how

Quote of the WEEK

"Poetry is concerned with using with abusing, with losing with wanting with denying with avoiding with adoring with replacing the noun."

- Gertrude Stein, Lectures in America

For the Love of Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz

Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz has a new book out and you need to pick it up...stat! Honestly...this is on my Amazon wish list and will probably be a present from me to me as soon as the pay check rolls in this week. Check out the description below-

The first definitive history of one of the 21st century's most explosive art movements, Words In Your Face explores the birth, growing pains and continuing development of the Poetry Slam -- a raucous poetry event that has been called "a pop culture phenomenon" (Roger Ebert, Chicago Sun Times), "the death of art" (Harold Bloom, Paris Review) and has been blamed for making "poetry sexy again in a way it hasn't been since the heyday of the Beats" (Stephen Holden, The New York Times).

Spoken word icons such as Saul Williams, Maggie Estep, Bob Holman and John S. Hall join scores of other poets, organizers, filmmakers, scholars and critics in bringing the story of the New York City Poetry Slam movement to life. From its origins in the roofless, unheated Nuyorican Poets Cafe and its mid-90s rise in the pop culture ranks thanks to MTV and Lollapalooza, to its fresh successes on stage and small screen thanks to Russell Simmon's Def Poetry projects and its devoted following among youth poets, queer poets and poets of color, the Poetry Slam is analyzed, idealized and criticized, all from a uniquely New York perspective.

One thing I must say - this woman knows how the heck to name a book! Beside Words In Your Face , Cristin has three other titles with equally spectacular names.

Dear Future Boyfriend
Hot Teen Slut
Working Class Represent
Oh Terrible Youth

ps...If you haven't checked out her website, you're missing out on...life. Yes...life!! She's awesome. Nuf Said:-)

http://www.aptowicz.com/NEW!

Stuff I Write: A Poem about Him

Muscle Memory
By Susan Baba

I miss
you
Miss feeling solid and secure in something stronger than myself
Even if I had been everything
Would that have been enough?
Would that have made you stay?
Now, I feel your absence as I never thought I would
Like amputation gone wrong
With muscle memory winning over
I still feel the tingle of arms holding me tight
Still feel the breath of you
Your closeness
The sensation of something
Reminding me that "no longer here"
Does not mean you are gone

Butterfly Nut House

A poem honoring Peter James Conti. This one's by Lynn Procope...beautiful.

As a lead in to this poem, she wrote this on her blog - "This is also for Danny, my love, who lets me cry every time I try to tell him about Peter and who'd never flirted with a man (let alone a gorgeous black Italian gay man who occasionally talked to the voices over his shoulder) until he met Pete but did it cause I said he had to love all my Petes if he wanted me to love him. I appreciate that kind of love. Because of these people, it's all around me. It's not easy, it grows up the wrong way but gets its ass in gear and learns a new thing every day. For all of you even if you never know it. ack! so sappy!"

Butterfly Nut House – in memory of PJC
By Lynne Procope – 1.17.06

We buried you, in a cold snap, during
a transit strike, nothing moving except
under the power or our own energies.

We whispered, a cancer, what made it?
and there grew a fear of our rash rough throats,
everything a threat. We shifted uneasy,

shoulder to shoulder, almost as in love
as we all were in the old days but for
this thrall of absolute ice, we owned

no explanations except perhaps sucrose,
and red wines too sweet for grownups. Peter.
how did we arrive here, without you?

Tonight I write at our old holy place.
The bartender does not know you’re dead,
He gives me free beer; cold benediction.

He begins the list, asks after our circle.
This one still hungry, another married,
the youngest carries tumors; mistaken babies,

the loudest gone to where he can praise
an easier god and you; each time I’m asked,
I forget which words mean that you’re dead;

underweight, 90 lbs when they cracked
the ice bound earth. I have not spoken aloud
since your first call to say, Cancer. Perhaps

your bare back exposed as a scandal and
all your lovely hungry boys. The last thing
I said was, How do I apologize

for letting in the monster that is eating you?
Was it your father’s ministry, his holy,
the cracked closet door, your mother’s deep cough,

or the voices that leached onto your ear?
When you stopped listening, did they migrate
south, inhabit your spine? You abdicated

madness. Was that it? You, younger, crazy
more naked, you louder, willing to sing
off key, off beat, all the wrong words.
More

Just For Fun: Nerd Link (thx @Geesu)

Ever wondered the breakdown of Twitter users? The number of nukes it would take to destroy the world? Or the timeline of global media scare stories? Or...how many people prefer coffee or tea. Well, wonder no more!!!


Information is Beautiful is a site that presents ideas, issues, knowledge, and data in a visually stimulating way. Charts, graphs, the whole nie yards. In essence, a nerd's paradise. Connect with your inner statistician:-)

Enjoy!

www.informationisbeautiful.net/

Rock Stars of the Contemporary Poetry World

To steal a page from the Intel playbook - "Your rock stars aren't like our rock stars" :-) Ours are of the nerdy, thoughtful, intellectual kind who have a way with words and energy that jumps off the page!

Enjoy the Poetry Foundations latest list of poetry best sellers.


Contemporary Best Sellers: Week of August 2, 2009

1 Evidence by Mary Oliver (Beacon Press)
2 Slamming Open the Door by Kathleen Sheeder Bonanno (Alice James Books)
3 Red Bird (paperback) by Mary Oliver (Beacon Press)
4 The Shadow of Sirius by W. S. Merwin (Copper Canyon Press)
5 New and Selected Poems: Volume Two (paperback) by Mary Oliver (Beacon Press)
6 Why I Wake Early by Mary Oliver (Beacon Press)
7 Thirst (paperback) by Mary Oliver (Beacon Press)
8 Endpoint and Other Poems by John Updike (Knopf)
9 The Trouble with Poetry and Other Poems (paperback) by Billy Collins (Random House)
10 Ballistics by Billy Collins (Random House)

Check out the full list

To the Children of Immigrants

If you are the child of immigrant parents, you should be able to relate to Bassey Ikpi piece below.

"those arms mothered my mother
taught her how to mother me
i inhale the history from her skin
and she tells me of a small, scared girl
carried away on an iron bird to america
seems like that same bird has returned
only to replace that perfect girl with me
this strange tongue-tied woman
the one that can barely say hello
without the clicks and moans
the dips and tones
of the white mans language
it breaks my heart to realize that i can only love her clearly
in english"

Unless you're one of us, you can't fully appreciate how unnerving it is to feel like you're living in limbo between two cultures. Never truly feeling like the motherland is home. But not ready to recant your native citizenry for this new, American one. I feel you. Despite the cultural schizophrenia we have all inherited, I'm still amazed by how awesome our parents are. Can you imagine leaving all that is familiar for something you "hope" will be better a better world? So, to my mother - who braved lands unknown to bring us up in a world of greater opportunity...thank you. Happy birthday Mommy!!

ps...if you love Bassey as much as I do, check out her FB fan page.

Get to Know the Greats - Donald Hall

Donald Hall is one of those great contemporary poets that chose to make his living by the pen far before it was cool. He's a former poet laureate, a Guggenheim fellow, twice over, and one of those god father's of the written word who doesn't get as much credit as he should.

Enjoy!

Gold
By Donald Hall

Pale gold of the walls, gold
of the centers of daisies, yellow roses
pressing from a clear bowl. All day
we lay on the bed, my hand
stroking the deep
gold of your thighs and your back.
We slept and woke
entering the golden room together,
lay down in it breathing
quickly, then
slowly again,
caressing and dozing, your hand sleepily
touching my hair now.

We made in those days
tiny identical rooms inside our bodies
which the men who uncover our graves
will find in a thousand years,
shining and whole.

Listen to him read it here