Field Recordings

On the way to school, NPR ran a story on the Nigerian kidnapping of 230 schoolgirls. It struck me as a parent and a writer about the story. Throughout the day it simmered.  On my lunch break I looked up some Yoruba words, and after school drafted the poem. The initial draft was a two pronged poem: a satire of Hollywood writers pitching a film about a father who goes after the kidnappers, and a poem about the sound of the grieving parents. I meant to show a harsh division of worlds and privilege, but one that shared a similar tonal sound--as in machinery, background noise, harmonics, etc. WESTERN/AFRICAN HARMONICS The tubes of this poem vibrate at 1093 hertz, the stir of womb memory. Scene: Lattes, milk galaxies. Three smart execs type out the pitch: a gaunt dark father hunts for his daughter a pretty mother, wasting with tears, gathers a protest. “For Cannes.” They nod and screen down. “We can shoot in South Africa. Cheap, plus local color” “How does it end?” O...

This past weekend began with a nice mellow Friday, the end of HSA testing, and then, gasp, a Pushcart Nomination for Fiction , which is pretty cool, all on top of the final hours of GWB presidency (do I dare say presidency?) I started this blog to both give myself an easy publishing outlet, as well as store a bunch of ephemra I am drawn to, and in the spring this blog will backup my professional arts and humanties blog with Delmarva Quarterly. Back on election night I wrote something for our president elect. A hopeful little thing...I've revised it some. And just for fun I'm posting my jab at GWB...I couldn't just make fun of his incompetence, I had to nail him for having no love in his wee heart. 11/5/08 CNN PROJECTS OBAMA FOR PRESIDENT- 11:00 PM Because Obama has won today one must force change which translates into: cut out junk food, car pool, save, avoid the drive through, invest wisely, volunteer, turn off the TV, read more poetry, read more books. Tell jokes. If your...