Friday, December 14, 2007

Semester's ovah!

and "boy, are my arms tired!" The tiredest joke -- evah!

Heya peoples from the blog zone (or me talking to myself). Things have been good but busy. *Don't* get me started! In five months I've been to Europa twice after not being there for many a moon. Haven't been to Africa for at least a year (boo hoo!) and co-edited a journal with my girl Sandra Ruiz. That's just skimming the surface, boobalahs!

It's been a bevy of beauties passing on to the spirit realm, that's for another post though. In fact, every time I sat down to write a little somethin' to y'all, I got another note of sad news. I'm am reh-tee for 2007 to be *done*!

Next up is the city of brotherly love with the evocative statues of freemasons -- Philly! If I ate cheesesteak I'd be in heaven but as it is, I'll be happy to be back east with the hard core language school posse as they beat me into submission before I join the club! (I think they got that from the Freemasons, too. Or at least that's what the conspiracy theorists say...)

Anyway, happy lights month: minoras, kinaras, xmas trees, balls dropping from Times Square, whatever, whereever, may your lights shine!

(Thanks to for the image: Now I don't have to send a card to anybody...)

XO and 'tis the season,


Saturday, August 25, 2007

summer's ovah!

...and once again, I have been in one of my self-imposed and oppressive hibernations. I swear I'm becoming a big old poster child for a musing poet.

Anyway, I'm gearing up for the fall but have gotten a sneak peak of it while in London which is a great city but has had some of the wackest weather this side of France. The people are groovy though and I've had a bunch o'fun undercover here doing research on performance and philosophy.

The more I study the less I know I know. Here's a poem for ya:

by Randall Mann

is only something on which to hang
your long overcoat; the slender snake asleep
in the grass; the umbrella by the door;

the black swan guarding the pond.
This ? has trouble in mind: do not ask
why the wind broods, why the light is so unclean.

It is summer, the rhetoric of the field,
its yellow grasses, something unanswerable.
The dead armadillo by the roadside, indecent.

Who cares now to recall that frost once encrusted
the field? The question mark—cousin to the 2,
half of a heart—already has begun its underhanded inquiry.

From Complaint in the Garden (Zoo Press, 2004). Copyright © 2004 by Randall Mann. Pretty much sums up my state of mind. Thanks to, as usual, for the link.

This has been the summer of the reaper. Lots of people dying whose melodious phrasing has touched me: Max Roach, Sekou Sundiata, Jon Lucien, Grace Paley, Elizabeth Murray, and I'm not trying to be funny but, Merv Griffin. I liked his show and Jeopardy is one of those shows (he produced it) that unequivocally celebrates people being smart. We don't have enough thinking affirmed these days (including critical thinking). There are many other luminaries too and am I being extra sensitive or does it seem that the arts have been hit especially hard these last couple months?

Well, I have no words of my own for this but found a piece from my fellow Geminian poet (yet another to whom I cannot hope to hold a candle), Walt Whitman (from the usual place):

A Clear Midnight
by Walt Whitman

This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson

Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the
themes thou lovest best,
Night, sleep, death and the stars.

"Night, sleep, death and the stars"... we wait for dawn.

I hope the fall begins a new page for you in activity, levity and hope. May your discoveries take you farther as we walk paths giants have paved.

(from the Adinkira Designs website: "SESA WO SUBAN" "Change or transform your character "symbol of life transformation.)

On the news front, I have a new track (as a *singer* if you can believe it) on Elliott Sharp's band Terraplane's Secret Life. Just came out, so you can check it if you like.

Forward ever and ever,

Monday, April 30, 2007

tail end of april

Hey Beauties:

Well, between tax season, end of semester stuff and presenting papers at conferences your humble poet has been underground on the blog scene, even though it's pretrty underground as it is...

Here's a poem to belatedly wish you a happy season via It's pretty old school, but hey, so is Spring!

Back in a minute in the month of flowers. I'm so happy the sun is out!


From you have I been absent in the spring... (Sonnet 98)
by William Shakespeare

From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him,
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odor and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew.
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.

Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.

Thursday, March 01, 2007

coming in like a lion...

...'member that adage? Remember when March was really cold?

Well, it's a not-quite-balmy 35 degrees in the borough of churches section of the apple. I suppose that's "normal" given Punxsutawney Phil's commentary last month (he is eerily accurate). Speaking of, I'm glad Gore got that Oscar! (I've still got issues with his Mrs. from back in the day but...) I remember seeing that movie and looking for Brooklyn. It's messed up but when he showed lower Manhattan under water my first thought was: that include Brooklyn? I am fanatical about few things, but the BK is one of 'em. So sue me.

(BTW, Punxsutawney Phil must be up to date. Dude has a website! Hope he's not registered w/ you know who. But that would explain why he hides most of the time, just pissed off, I bet! Maybe I'm projecting on him though -- ya think?)

As those of you who know me know, I've got tons of opinions on things but/and as a belated raison d'etre, I have to add that I see this lil blog as an oasis of sorts from all the hardcore political blogs that I personally obsess over multiple times a day. Not that I won't/don't insert political opinions here but I'm taking a slightely different tack. (If you've ever had a conversation with me, you *know* how much I talk politics. Back in the day, before poetry came and took over, I was a Political Science major and am still a news junkie. Here though, I see Poetry (with a capital P) as a great summator, so I like to let the other words speak for my mood at the mo: sometimes political, sometimes aesthetic, often both.

At this, my usual crack of dawn hour, I can almost feel spring coming around, not quite but not so far away. The moon is waning outside of my window and through the curtains looks like the center of a cross. The diffused light brought to mind this poem by Marilyn Nelson (that I found, as usual via, the Academy of Am Poets website). I like it b/c it has the name of this month in it, great lighting and to me, political undertones that could be applied to human rights, US politicians, war and contraints of today. Just my take. Here's the poem for you to assess yourself:

Daughters, 1900
by Marilyn Nelson

Five daughters, in the slant light on the porch,
are bickering. The eldest has come home
with new truths she can hardly wait to teach.

She lectures them: the younger daughters search
the sky, elbow each others' ribs, and groan.
Five daughters, in the slant light on the porch

and blue-sprigged dresses, like a stand of birch
saplings whose leaves are going yellow-brown
with new truths. They can hardly wait to teach,

themselves, to be called "Ma'am," to march
high-heeled across the hanging bridge to town.
Five daughters. In the slant light on the porch

Pomp lowers his paper for a while, to watch
the beauties he's begotten with his Ann:
these new truths they can hardly wait to teach.

The eldest sniffs, "A lady doesn't scratch."
The third snorts back, "Knock, knock: nobody home."
The fourth concedes, "Well, maybe not in church. . ."
Five daughters in the slant light on the porch.


Here are links to a couple of other poems that are more to the point:
Dear George Bush by Kristen Prevaliet:
and For the Union Dead (and old school standard that unfortunately still applies):

Okay, so much for "oasis". Hey, no one can live in a bubble away from the world, even if one is in a perpetual poetry bubble. But what about the second part of the phrase I used as the title? The lamb part? March is also a verb as in marching to war, and like the month one wishes to conclude with a more gentle environment. Poets, even when they're upset still have hope in their hearts and it's worth agitating for. Now I'm going to close this post by going really old school and going in peace:

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
by Anonymous

To every thing there is a season,
and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate;
A time of war, and a time of peace.

Take it as non-denominationally as you like. It is certainly some of the most well-known literature on earth. Be well and think warm thoughts to keep you warm -- and take a coat.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Chinese New Year poem

Hiya Lovelies:

If you've found me, thanks.

I'm still into this celebratory week that about 1/5 of the globe celebrates.

Here's a poem for you and the website I got it from.

I wish you a Happy Pig year, even though I don't eat pork!

May 2007 and the Boar be good for you and yours:

Winter Night

My bed is so empty that I keep on waking up;
as the cold increases, the night-wind begins to blow.

It rustles the curtains, making a noise like the sea.
Oh that those were waves which could carry me back to you.


What can I tell you. I've been in the Midwest and New York and it's been chilly!

PS: Have a happy belated Valentine's day, too. -- tm

Sunday, February 18, 2007


Hi, Y'all who are checking this out:

Well, it is a hot mess up in bulkregister land (where I have had for a couple years). It's a shame. Since they were purchased from Enom last summer I have not been able to pay for my website, nor upload onto it. Really unfortunate as it was really great up until then and there has been much going on in Tracieland.

For now, please go to the site or for the latest. Hopefully before hell freezes over I'll be able to link my old and new web addresses so it won't be an issue. I'll give you some musings later but wanted to say:

Happy Pig year! Eat, drink, be loyal, friendly and merry, dahlinks.

Love ya,
Tracie from Tracieland
(a very special place I've created in my mind!)

Tuesday, January 02, 2007


Happy New Year, Folks!

May 2007 be better for you and all of us -- less war, a cooler planet, more rights and more joy. Homework: Have fun, do your absolute best then stop worrying!

In like Flynn,