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28 October 2013

a poem


roaches

I love cockroaches
the way they breathe
through their skin

if you submerge them
in water they hang limp—
a simulation of death

but once they dry out
their antennae twitch
& they sprint into the dark.

I am saturated— 
all my orifices shut 
laying in stasis

entombed like sewage 
I wait for the sun
to dry my flesh

05 October 2013

excerpt from my annotation on mary ruefle.



"The world is wide & black stretching out before you… like falling asleep in a far-away field & waking up at midnight to see nothing but statuesque darkness in every direction. The time I was swept off the rocks at the beach by what my mother called a “sneaker wave” & almost drown in less than three feet of water because my brain couldn’t register which direction was up. 

I keep thinking of it as ash. The moments after the volcanic eruption in which all the noise has stopped, & the ash wafts down like blurry snow. I’ve never been in a volcanic eruption, but I’ve seen pictures: my mother standing in her prom dress on the front lawnthe sky grey above her."


-nr

30 September 2013

"but he is the peripheral sort
and not at the center of anything."


-mary ruefle, lapland

23 September 2013

driving out the desire to question: excerpt of my thoughts on Maggie Nelson's The Art of Cruelty


Pg. 29:
“the mainstream thrust of anti-intellectualism, as it stands today, characterizes thinking itself as an elitist activity.”

I posted this on facebook. All my liberal friends liked it. 

I consider myself educated & intelligent (most of the time) & my reflex was to underline this & say “yeah!” & bemoan the influence of ignorance. But I think it might actually be more complicated than just that. Something about consumerism which drives out the desire to question… which Nelson elaborates on on the following page: “Instead it promotes something more like an idiocracy, in which low-grade pleasures (such as the capacity to buy cheap goods, pay low or no taxes, carry guns into Starbucks, and maintain the right not to help one another) displace all other forms of freedom, even those of the most transformative and profound variety.” (pg. 30)

In some ways it’s kind of funny, that sentence about the freedom to “carry guns into Starbucks”. At the same time it’s a pretty terrifying idea, that this is where we’ve come. I wouldn’t say it’s ignorance or stupidity really, I think it’s rather that a society which puts so much value on physical wealth is also a society which becomes increasingly detached from compassion & human connection. This is, I think, what Nelson is getting at. It’s also the role of art, & perhaps why we don’t value art or artists… they don’t have the same capacity for physical wealth. I’m asked all the time what I’m going to do to make money with my poetry degree… people are baffled & terrified when I tell them I don’t care. That I’m not getting it to make money off of (I’d be pretty dumb if I thought a poetry degree would make me rich). It’s interesting. It’s not enough that I want to learn & think or whatever… How will I make money doing that? Thinking is not enough, it has to come with wealth otherwise it’s not worth it. 

13 September 2013

"Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair 
And I eat men like air."


-sylvia plath, lady lazarus
october 1962

02 September 2013

times two

Two little snippets are in the world this month.

First, a poem of mine can be found at the fabulous Whole Beast Rag for their Idol issue.
READ: towards a theory of the virgin's physical body.

Second, my creative review/experimental annotation of Jill Magi's Threads is live on HTMLGiant.
READ: notes for a future review of threads by jill magi.

xx
n


25 August 2013

in the grey

A friend of mine has an absolutely stunning essay up at The Paris Review Daily about loss, her father, & the city of Detroit. Please take a moment to read The Faint, Grey Areas, you won't regret it.