30 June 2012

26 June 2012

Kiss My First Draft

Pele’s hair is a cloud of smoke and ashes 

Burning because she is burned 

She chillin on her mountaintop 
blowin out her fro 
waitin for her girls to show up 
Lillith be late—
this time because her new man is in his 20s
 he Palestinian and he fiiiine; she ain’t even try to keep it dl— 
but everybody wait cuz she make the best salads 
Kali Ma and Erzulie be on the porch braiding hair 
La Malinche making vegan bibimbop and collard greens 
cuz her mama black and Korean but don’t hardly nobody know it 
Corn Woman don’t never cut off her phone, honey, cuz her people need her 
Doing nails and listening to M.I.A. and Grace Jones and Fiona Apple waiting for dinner

The boys come to Pele 
Honestly, that girl just tryna finish her art degree 
Boys be like, “Hey, girl!” and “Pele, baby!” 

Chile, nobody aint th’owin nobody into no volcanoes 
That’s some mess somebody mama started when Pele broke up with her son 
and he killed hisself

23 June 2012

Greg and I Need A Poetry Party

Greg and I went to the museum today and I got all het up over the Ben Shahn in the show. We stayed near the downtown this afternoon, stopping at Graze for nibbles and a chat, then going to Context. Greg likes Context; I liked the jeans, but found it a bit sportif. We ended up at Barriques talking about poetry.

Greg and I have spoken of doing a radio show. (Perhaps this stems from an evening at the bar next to Hamburg Inn after dinner at Pagliai's in Iowa City. Greg and I sat next to each other intermittently identifying hits from our high school years.) I realize we need a writing group, as well. (Duh?)

I have been emailing Greg first drafts from my rock star series all day. (He, in turn, has sent me his oh, sheila piece.) I am going out on a limb and including "Aviv Geffen" below.

(Haiku mix)
Swallowed fricatives
Give me blowback mouth-to-mouth
What’d all that mean, love?

(A Little Wanton mix)
Swallowed fricatives
Enjoy the blowback mouth-to-mouth
What were you saying all that time anyway, love?

(Ivrit mix)
Hot oil fricatives
Pass your soul mouth-to-mouth,
then the blowback

22 June 2012


I think it would be cool to screen movies from Israel-Palestine in some semi-official capacity in Madison. Thus, I am making an effort to learn more about Palestinian film, so this is a good place to start. However, I would be misrepresenting myself if I didn't cop to posting the trailer for Habibi because I find Kais Nashif attractive.

Habibi screened last weekend in New York during the Human Rights Film Festival. It screens in Melbourne early next month during the Arab Film Festival Australia.

I Bet You Were a Hofesh Schecter Fan Before Everyone Started Liking Him

Where would I be without Gregory Grube, high priest of the Pilates-promulgating poets? My spine and I would be out in a howling wilderness of ignorance, that's where.

Just this afternoon he dropped this science. I had never heard of Hofesh Schechter. Oy, is my face hot with embarrassment! Schechter is a former Batsheva dancer--which was pretty obvious from watching the clip above--based in London. With his own company.

Which will apparently be at the Walker this fall.

20 June 2012

I Remember When He Was the Coolest Guy On Earth

I hadn't watched this video in over 20 years. Intriguing and incredibly heart-breaking.

Obviously, a sick, mind-blowing video. Even though it was released during the high tide of grunge, this blew everyone's mind. You can watch this video endlessly. I find that, though MJ was already in decline, I can still get goosebumps watching him dance.

The video is insanely brilliant marketing, but the song itself is also pop genius. The groove is, simply, historic. I didn't realize until today that the lyrics include, appropriately, "Stop fucking with me."

13 June 2012

This Is A Poem By Greg

I met Greg the first day of the three-week. The poets had invited the fiction writers to Ye Olde Fox Head. Far and away the best time I had ever had there, I sat talking with the poets and Galvin, their fearless leader.

I was sitting on the aisle, and Greg was sitting on my left. It emerged that he was a dancer and taught Pilates. I was like, "Where do you teach Pilates?" because I had wanted to take Pilates all this past school year. When he told me, I realized I recognized him; I had perused that venue's website and had seen his photo. And his now-defunct Pilates blog.

We talked about dance, and it must be said that too much of my end of the conversation entailed me gushing about Batsheva, themostoriginalamazingdancecompanyinthewholeentireworld.

I was flattered when Greg emailed me a short poem the next day. Here it is:

She was born a Rothschild
End of story

02 June 2012


I could be like, Batsheva is sickinsanewhatistheword!!? But that's quite evident.