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Co-founder and contributing editor, Gobshite Quarterly, co-publisher, GobQ Books

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Reading at the Hollywood Library

I'll be reading Fighting Monsters at the Hollywood Library at 6:30 p.m., Tuesday, April 24th.

I've never read the full thing before: there are things in it I've never read in Portland at all.... So. Come! Enjoy! It's free.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

My entry in Prairie Schooner

The current issue of Prairie Schooner is a collaboration with Cordite Poetry Review, and the theme of the issue is "work".

Cordite has reprinted some work of mine. A great honour, as I'm sharing a page with Marilyn Hacker. The early issues of Gobshite featured many of Marilyn Hacker's translations.

I must away and go to work. The day, the dollar, and the med-insurance are calling.

When I was a kid, in the mornings, it used to be doves that called me into the great wide light. Early spring in Portland is alive with birdsong in the early mornings - the hopeful, reassuring sounds of life in common with complex and changing beauty.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Golems Waiting Redux (redux)

And, of course, Golems Waiting Redux, e-book or print, can be bought here. It is a lovely object, even if I do say so myself.

Kudos to Daniel Duford, Doug Spangle, Heather Watkins - and to Publication Studio, who did the printing and binding.

Golems is also held by 3 libraries: Oregon State University (Corvallis, OR), Multnomah County Library (Portland, OR), and by MOMA (NY).

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Golems Waiting Redux

Golems Waiting Redux was published on Sept. 23, 2011, printed and bound by Publication Studio, in Portland.

From the Introduction:

During the last week of September 2002, the first of the public art projects commissioned by the Portland Institute for Contemporary Art was installed on a vacant lot in the city, at the corner of SW Taylor & 3rd. On the lot itself Daniel Duford kiln-fired 3 huge crouching figures, golems; on one of the adjacent buildings, on the wall facing 3rd Ave., he painted 2 more figures, large male nudes with the same physique. They stood looking outward, with open hands.

The installation was intended to last a month.

Vandals immediately began smashing the sculptures. By the fourth night they had all been smashed. RV (Branham, founder & editor of Gobshite Quarterly) and I went to photograph them at our first opportunity — caught the MAX into town, scuttled along shopfronts, hurrying because of the very light rain, step, step, shopfront, shopfront –

An empty lot – grass, mud, a liver-red wall – with something flesh-coloured in the corner. In that first split second I felt a great misery; it prickled and numbed at the same time. I heard the sound of a huge and silent lamentation. It seemed like the sound of the Holocaust.

I looked towards the corner because of the colour.

This is GobQ's 3rd hardcopy title. Like El Gato Eficaz / Deathcats, it is also available as an e-book.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Ambrose Gets His Gig

The reading at St. Johns Booksellers on July 30 went very well. Everyone was delighted that Ambrose was not drowned by the Abbot, but got his gig in the monastery library instead.
My next reading will be on Barbara La Morticella's Talking Earth, on KBOO (Portland), 10:00-11:00 pm, Monday, September 19th, 2011. There'll be 3 of us: Barbara La Morticella, Christine Homitsu White, and me. I'll read a few very short poems. Hope you will join us, then, or by podcast.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Writing the Cats

I was in Australia when I began writing these stories to amuse the children a friend of mine was tutoring. Her cats were Signy and Ambrose. A journalist friend had Jemima and JCP. Isshe Tisshe was my cat. Lucinda lived in a block of flats I lived in once. I never knew her name. Fleur (de Mal) belonged to another friend, a playwright.

Quinnia, or the little silver Himalayan-Siamese, belonged to yet another friend who was unemployed. As I heard it later, he had needed the money and began to breed her; she died of an infection he couldn't afford to treat. She was very small, delicate, and sweet. So I gave her a name and a life, and a spectacular rise from poverty.

The cats come with their suburban backgrounds, pretty much, except for Quinnia, whose story was the obverse of her life, and Ambrose, whose deep grey fur suggested a mediaeval thunderstorm. The stories were a joy to write, and, I hope, will be a joy to read.