Bhanu's new blog, Kapil Muni's blog, makes it abundantly clear not why, but how I have followed pink light to Fl. now the how of being in it...
I am typing this on my iPad on my mom' back porch. The tropical storm has blown over. The air here is like always being inside the white lattice aquatic jungle plnt room, in Golden Gate Park's arboretum. I. Am not looking at the screen very closely. I have discovered how to maximize the font size, I have discovered that I am not a slow reader. Brent Cunningham, while driving me to a class at Small Press Distribution, was asking me about my low vision. he exclaimed, You must read so slowly! I never knew it till he said it. I was grateful he said it. But I did not do anything about it. Crazily, I was at the time, talking to Brent and Laurna Moriarty about accessible digital books for the blind and LV reader,
Bhanu's new blog, Kapil Muni's blog, makes it abundantly clear not why, but how I have followed pink light to Fl. now the how of being in it...
I am typing this on my iPad on my mom' back porch. The tropical storm has blown over. The air here is like always being inside the white lattice aquatic jungle plnt room, in Golden Gate Park's arboretum. I. Am not looking at the screen very closely. I have discovered how to maximize the font size, I have discovered that I am not a slow reader. Brent Cunningham, while driving me to a class at Small Press Distribution, was asking me about my low vision. he exclaimed, You must read so slowly! I never knew it till he said it. I was grateful he said it. But I did not do anything about it. Crazily, I was at the time, talking to Brent and Laurna Moriarty about accessible digital books for the blind and Lviv reader, Iwas working at Lighthouse for the Blind. Now Artie Glove's gone and talked me into getting this iPad we could not afford and suddenly, readingis luminous. Gliding. like being in the pool again with poems and novels and locating them in myself, as well. also,the Kapil Muni blog has re-instilled ,e faith in typogrhical failure. To stay in the place of physical ease while writing, so that the writing canmamange to exist in the world. Typos as the organic text, the process text that aligns body, art and mind.
I went to my first poetry reading since returning. O Fl. Last night. After consuming vast quantities of leggy eyeballed shrimp at a shrimp factory, with Artie Glove. Pink prawns. The reading at a yoga studio in Ybor City. there was a mauve wall. this was just hours after my last class at Rosé Manor. where the women are girls in their 50's who have been addicts, who have gotten sick from pushing the needle too far, who have lost their children--who are doing the hard work of separating the addicted body from their most real bodies and living again. They wear faded pink or perks, have tattoos that say "Blaze"' they tear poems out of their notebooks, hand them to me and say, ms. Amber, this ain't pretty. I want to live with those girls forever in the pink light. I want to buy them all copies of Srlah's The Pink Institution.
Oh, as for the poetry reading--it was, so far as I know, the only indie poetry prose in Tampa. It was the old FL. A comfort. But to say comfort, is somehow minmizing, and that is not what I mean.
There were poems about a bourbon that tastes like the neck of a woman who calls his other a whore, about the horrendous death of 3 white belugas in the hand of PT Barnum (FL has a big time circus legacy), and poems about silverfish eating through paper memories in a decaying urban tropic duplex.
The poets seemed kind of aloof or. Off about my effprts toward conversing, but I was pleased that I forced myself to talk to them and I remind myself that when I started meeting poets in SF, it was that awkward shell for many years until I found the soft underside.
working at Lighthouse for the Blind. Now Artie Glove's gone and talked me into getting this iPad we could not afford and suddenly, readingis luminous. Gliding. like being in the pool again with poems and novels and locating them in myself, as well. also,the Kapil Muni blog has re-instilled ,e faith in typogrhical failure. To stay in the place of physical ease while writing, so that the writing can manage to exist in the world. Typos as the organic text, the process text that aligns body, art and mind.
I went to my first poetry reading since returning. O Fl. Last night. After consuming vast quantities of leggy eyeballed shrimp at a shrimp factory, with Artie Glove. Pink prawns. The reading at a yoga studio in Ybor City. there was a mauve wall. this was just hours after my last class at Rosé Manor. where the women are girls in their 50's who have been addicts, who have gotten sick from pushing the needle too far, who have lost their children--who are doing the hard work of separating the addicted body from their most real bodies and living again. They wear faded pink or perks, have tattoos that say "Blaze"' they tear poems out of their notebooks, hand them to me and say, ms. Amber, this ain't pretty. I want to live with those girls forever in the pink light. I want to buy them all copies of Srlah's The Pink Institution.
Oh, as for the poetry reading--it was, so far as I know, the only indie poetry prose in Tampa. It was the old FL. A comfort. But to say comfort, is somehow minmizing, and that is not what I mean.
There were poems about a bourbon that tastes like the neck of a woman who calls his other a whore, about the horrendous death of 3 white belugas in the hand of PT Barnum (FL has a big time circus legacy), and poems about silverfish eating through paper memories in a decaying urban tropic duplex.
The poets seemed kind of aloof or. Off about my effprts toward conversing, but I was pleased that I forced myself to talk to them and I remind myself that when I started meeting poets in SF, it was that awkward shell for many years until I found the soft underside.
