riverbloodandcorn.blogspot.com
River, Blood, And Corn: A Copper Miner’s Great Granddaughter Reflects
http://riverbloodandcorn.blogspot.com/2010/06/copper-miners-great-granddaughter.html
RIVER, BLOOD, AND CORN. A Copper Miner’s Great Granddaughter Reflects. June 02, 2010. We have stories / as old as the great seas / breaking through the chest / flying out the mouth, / noisy tongues that once were silenced, /all the oceans we contain / coming to light.". OFI’ TOHBI’ IHINA’. By Jenny L. Davis I didn’t carry my ancestors’ bones with me to this Midwestern place. I could not hear their voices. I asked Rab. Navajo Quilt Maker Susan Hudson Pays Tribute to Plains Ledger Art. Once Upon A River.
otherroomspress.blogspot.com
Other Rooms Press: issue currently unavailable
http://otherroomspress.blogspot.com/2014/05/technical-difficulties.html
The Autobiography of Ed Go as told by Napoleon Id. The OR Panthology: Ocellus Reseau. A print anthology celebrating five years of. Also available at Amazon. ORP profile on ÜRBANTgarde. Celebrating the concepts of the new avant-garde". NYC Poetry Festival, Governor's Island - Sunday July 26 @ noon. The Past [archive of what has happened here]. Other Rooms Chapbook Series (out of print). Drew Baughman, The Tree of Boon and Bane. VL Bond, Pocketbook. Ed Go, de-luminations. Chip Livingston, ALARUM:.
otherroomspress.blogspot.com
Other Rooms Press: James Juletid
http://otherroomspress.blogspot.com/2015/05/james-juletid.html
Heaving strides on earth;. The ancient loin stirrings. Of yetis, sabretooths. The Autobiography of Ed Go as told by Napoleon Id. The OR Panthology: Ocellus Reseau. A print anthology celebrating five years of. Also available at Amazon. ORP profile on ÜRBANTgarde. Celebrating the concepts of the new avant-garde". NYC Poetry Festival, Governor's Island - Sunday July 26 @ noon. The Past [archive of what has happened here]. Other Rooms Chapbook Series (out of print). Drew Baughman, The Tree of Boon and Bane.
otherroomspress.blogspot.com
Other Rooms Press: Phyllis Witte
http://otherroomspress.blogspot.com/2015/05/phyllis-witte.html
Oh Beautiful for Spacious Skies. For Amber Waves of Grain…. Look Little Johnny, just beyond the waves of grain. Quick Little Johnny, duck and cover. And pledge allegiance to the flag,. Oh say can you see Little Johnny,. Of thee I sing,. And of Dick and Spot and Jane. Lassie, Tonto, Rin-Tin-Tin. Look Little Johnny, up in the sky. It’s a bird. It’s a plane—. It’s a white blinding flash of light…. My Country Tis of Thee, Sweet Land. The Russians are coming. The Martians have landed. Better dead than Red.
otherroomspress.blogspot.com
Other Rooms Press: Michael Keenan
http://otherroomspress.blogspot.com/2015/05/michael-keenen.html
And the golden sasquatch of a summer/story. Begins, like milk, in an evil persimmon. OF GIRL WITH THE SECOND. TO LAST SNOW: FOR. I smear some chicken grease on. Another poem for Anna. FOUND FASTENED TO A LIFE JACKET WITH A RUSTED. PAPER CLIP/IN AN ABANDONED SHIPYARD. Strange rules in a strange. Estate. How much further can we drive, John. On a writhing street, Legend. I’ll never tell. I walked around for days. Looking for a job in the perfect magic shop, but. Someone kept walking in. Front of the sun,.
otherroomspress.blogspot.com
Other Rooms Press: Richard Pearse
http://otherroomspress.blogspot.com/2015/05/richard-pearse.html
Sonnet 130: Perfervid Vermin. Ma's mattresses are nothing like Sonny’s. Corrals of fat mares ring his list, unread. Is nowhere where the best is getting done? If heirs were widows, weirdos groove ahead. Eyes hover over damages realized,. But no switched rudeness can be seen in check. And some perfervid rectors, more desired. Than beachgoers’ vermin, in the breaches break. Aloof from harvesting, the sparkling news. That muses on the health of placid Sonny. Asks only of a goddess for her beaux. Celebrating...
riverbloodandcorn.blogspot.com
River, Blood, And Corn: Tomol Trek: California Indians Regathering a Tradition
http://riverbloodandcorn.blogspot.com/2010/09/tomol-trek.html
RIVER, BLOOD, AND CORN. Tomol Trek: California Indians Regathering a Tradition. Our classes are held outdoors under a bead-blue California sky. We work on a patch of green grass, an occasional hawk sweeping over with light shining through her rust red tail. Back in 1997, when there was money available to be used for education, the Santa Barbara County American Indian Education Project began the series “Tomol Trek.”. Remembrance weighs heavy on my mind, as it does for most Native people seeking to affirm ...
riverbloodandcorn.blogspot.com
River, Blood, And Corn: Chumash Stories: Alan Salazar
http://riverbloodandcorn.blogspot.com/2015/01/chumash-stories-alan-salazar.html
RIVER, BLOOD, AND CORN. Chumash Stories: Alan Salazar. Educational Programs For All Ages. January 09, 2015. We have stories / as old as the great seas / breaking through the chest / flying out the mouth, / noisy tongues that once were silenced, /all the oceans we contain / coming to light.". OFI’ TOHBI’ IHINA’. By Jenny L. Davis I didn’t carry my ancestors’ bones with me to this Midwestern place. I could not hear their voices. I asked Rab. Navajo Quilt Maker Susan Hudson Pays Tribute to Plains Ledger Art.
riverbloodandcorn.blogspot.com
River, Blood, And Corn: Dark, Sweet: New and Selected Poems by Linda Hogan
http://riverbloodandcorn.blogspot.com/2015/01/dark-sweet-new-and-selected-poems-by.html
RIVER, BLOOD, AND CORN. Dark, Sweet: New and Selected Poems by Linda Hogan. From the beginning of her career, Linda Hogan’s often prayer-like poems evoke liminality, speaking from blurred boundaries of animal and human, self and other, but it is the constant interpenetration of the sacred and mundane, which poet-theorist Jennifer Gosetti-Ferencei calls “the ecstatic quotidian,” that sets Linda Hogan’s work on a plane of its own. Linda Hogan’s Dark, Sweet. Read more at World Literature Today. By Terra Tre...
riverbloodandcorn.blogspot.com
River, Blood, And Corn: Voices
http://riverbloodandcorn.blogspot.com/2010/08/voices.html
RIVER, BLOOD, AND CORN. By Diane René Christian. Late last fall, early morning, I heard the phone ring. I picked it up and heard my brother’s voice. He said, "Diane- Dad collapsed on Gram’s floor. He wasn’t breathing. He’s in an ambulance now. I’m on my way to meet him at the hospital.". The night of my father’s death I remember saying out loud, but to no one in particular, "I don’t know how to live without a parent.". My youngest daughter refused to leave my side. A well of fear emerged from within ...
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