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

XO and 'tis the season,
;-)

T

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 Poets.org, 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
done,

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,
Tracie

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 Poets.org. 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!

xo,
TM

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.

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! http://www.punxsutawneyphil.com/. 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 Poets.org, 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.

link: http://poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15820

Here are links to a couple of other poems that are more to the point:
Dear George Bush by Kristen Prevaliet: http://poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16613
and For the Union Dead (and old school standard that unfortunately still applies): http://poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15280

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.

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.



at: http://www.springsgreetingcards.com/catalogs/store.asp?pid=206956&catid=22647

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

about TracieMorris.net

Hi, Y'all who are checking this out:

Well, it is a hot mess up in bulkregister land (where I have had traciemorris.net 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 tracieswebsite.com or tracieswebsite.net 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!)

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,
Tracie

end of Dec/early Jan gigs

RE: Previous Post -- Thanks!!! Folks came *out* this election!


Happy Holidays Happy New Year. May Peace *and* justice reign for 2007. Will be in touch with news, updates and upcoming gigs soon!

As folks may know, I'm terrible at publicizing my stuff. A bit shy I must confess but not on stage (or at least not as much, fortunately). I promise to do better by posting gigs on my website and up-to-dating more stuff.

Here's a couple of pending cameos:
12/19/06 -- Brooklyn Spoken Work Cafe at 226 4th Avenue (6:30 pm) in the *best borough* a.k.a. Brooklyn. Will be hanging out for a couple poems. My first time at this spot...

1/1/97 -- Be sure to stop by New York's Gala New Year's Day reading at St. Mark's Church in the Bowery. There will be plenty of phenomenal poets, performers and songsters there. I'm always appreciative to rub shoulders with the Downtown Divas: The outer borough types are let in every once in a while...Yours truly will be sitting in for a few minutes between 7 and 8 pm.

Wishing the best to you and yours...


Tracie

YOUR JOB...

VOTE.

Tracie's Web

Hi, Visitors:

Now, I know you may be thinking that I can't keep a promise (given the last post) but *lots* has been going on in the Morris compound since the last note.

The biggest reason for my going underground was to complete the requirements for my Ph.D. It was intense! Luckily, I had a great chair and committee who got me through the grueling process.

Then there was a strike by faculty at Eastern Michigan University where I teach. Can't say it hasn't been a lively few weeks!

Anyway, classes are in full swing and I'm through with my diss defense and filing. So here's to the computer and electronic socializing!

Thanks for stopping by.

Check out this poem for the season, courtesy Poets.org:


Autumn Grasses
by Margaret Gibson

In fields of bush clover and hay-scent grass
the autumn moon takes refuge
The cricket's song is gold

Zeshin's loneliness taught him this

Who is coming?
What will come to pass, and pass?

Neither bruise nor sweetness nor cool air
not-knowing
knows the way

And the moon?
Who among us does not wander, and flare
and bow to the ground?

Who does not savor, and stand open
if only in secret

taking heart in the ripening of the moon?

(Shibata Zeshin, Autumn Grasses, two-panel screen)



Take care,
Tracie

Tracie's Web

Happy August:

I can't believe we're half-way through this month! Here comes the school season.
Given the present election year climes in the Northeast, here's a poem for you (via Poets.org):


Epitaph on a Tyrant
by W. H. Auden



Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,

And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;

He knew human folly like the back of his hand,

And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;

When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,

And when he cried the little children died in the streets.




It's a bit busy at the Morris mainstay but look to another note posted before the month is over. Had a great time communing with my fellow and sister artists at the Creative Capital retreat. If any of you are stopping by, Hi!

Hype!

Hey Shadow Perusers:

Did you say "dog days?" I don't think this is what the Chinese Calendar had in mind for 2006...Shout out to Queens which was *sweating it out* for over a week! Con Ed is a hot mess!

So I briefly interrupt my usual poetic platitudes to comment on an *amazing* event I went to last night. It was lecture by Armond White highlighting the work of Hip Hop visionary genius, Hype Williams.

For the few of you who read this blog, it's possible that you may have been a student of mine once. If so, you *know* I'm all about a Hype Williams video. I've used Missy's "I Can't Stand the Rain' so much my students can't stand to hear it, LL's "Doin' It" and various other HW creations in class. Last night's event was *nice*! I even got to ask a dorky question about how Hype collaborates. I'm really curious to know how he gets such a great read on the inner aura of his "subjects." (Answer: "It's a weird question." Actually, he also said that the videos are predicated on long-standing relationships he's had with the artists. Most of the people he's worked with he's known for ages. I think he's just got the technique and happens to be very attentive to his client's energies and aspirations. Goes with the vision thing.)

Seeing some of those old videos not only brought back memories (when some of those videos came out I was reminded of my short stint as a PA for Lionel Martin's Classic Concepts about a million years ago), but just how far Hype brought the medium into the present/the future. I was hanging out with my friend Sherrie who tokd me about the lecture and said: "That event made me proud of Hip Hop, how far it's come." Too true.

Armond (who I haven't always agreed with, in fact who I've often disagreed with!) did an *excellent* job putting Hype in context. I didn't get all his references (and I'm a decently read person -- or maybe not. Visual arts and film were never media I emphasized in my research) but he still gave an attentive read of what Hype was executing in his choices. Of course, we all have our favorite Hype videos and slants on what they mean to us as well as their cultural import, but there were several things Armond mentioned that I wouldn't have otherwise caught: Hype's unique use of the "milk box" and "shadow box" techniques, his new approach to videos using split screen images and (in my rough shorthand): the manipulation and inversion of positive and negative space on the frame. The color!The contrasts! Dude has left an indelible impression.

And so, so nice in person! Just a sweetie. ('Course I shook his hand! I had to give him some dap.) Very humble, down to earth guy. But his praises were shouted to the rafters by guests who just showed up such as Irv Gotti, Little X, Theo (?) and others. I wish I were a little hipper and knew more of today's players but, I didn't get all the names. The Lincoln Center folks seemed delighted -- and relieved that Hype made it -- and I have to credit them for letting Armond do his thing and present this work. It was an interesting contrast, too: Armond's prepared notes were clearly for the erudite Lincoln Center crowd but guess what? *Hype's crowd* showed up! Not LC's. This had the interesting affect on Gotti of making him express even deeper appreciation to Armond as well as honoring Hype because HW's work was addressed in such a "culturally elite" way, in other words, Gotti took it as Hype being taken *seriously.* As he should have. And you know, Black folks believe in testimonials! So several folks had to get up and talk about how great Hype was. There's nothing like Love.

TM

Happy July

Named after Julius Caesar -- but you knew that.

Hope the weather is drying you out, warming you up or getting you a party. Black Music Month, Queer History Month and Gemini season has moved on. Now it's time for hot fun in the summer time, for real though...

What's up with the Supreme Court these days? Hard to read whether there "with us or against us." Us, being the Constitution upholders, btw.

I looked around for a July poem and you *know* what I got-- nine million 4th of July celebratory poems. Since we already have so many opportunities to hear the rockets' red glare, as well as some bombs and other ammo these days, I thought a different tack might be in order:



Fishing on the Susquehanna in July
by Billy Collins

I have never been fishing on the Susquehanna
or on any river for that matter
to be perfectly honest.

Not in July or any month
have I had the pleasure--if it is a pleasure--
of fishing on the Susquehanna.

I am more likely to be found
in a quiet room like this one--
a painting of a woman on the wall,

a bowl of tangerines on the table--
trying to manufacture the sensation
of fishing on the Susquehanna.

There is little doubt
that others have been fishing
on the Susquehanna

rowing upstream in a wooden boat,
sliding the oars under the water
then raising them to drip in the light.

But the nearest I have ever come to
fishing on the Susquehanna
was one afternoon in a museum in Philadelphia

when I balanced a little egg of time
in front of a painting
in which that river curled around a bend

under a blue cloud-ruffled sky,
dense trees along the banks,
and a fellow with a red bandanna

sitting in a small, green
flat-bottom boat
holding the thin whip of a pole.

That is something I am unlikely
ever to do, I remember
saying to myself and the person next to me.

Then I blinked and moved on
to other American scenes
of haystacks, water whitening over rocks,

even one of a brown hare
who seemed so wired with alertness
I imagined him springing right out of the frame.



-- Now don't tell me that your only association with Susquehana is that Abbott and Costello sketch. Shame on ya! But there's something about this poem that feels particularly urban. In the big city, we're always romanticizing the country but can't quite get to it. Do the best that you can this weekend!

Tracie's Web

Happy Summer Dahlinks!

Well, Gemini season is ovah, summer's official and the crabs got it for a minute. Honey, I've been busy - but will protect the guilty by refraining from details!

I hope you're enjoying global warming where you are. I did see the Al Gore movie and I am worried about the planet even more than when I did Afrofuturistic a few years ago. It's hot! But I guess BushCo is going to give us the "We had no idea that the temperature was going to get this high" excuse -- for Katrina. Check out: http://www.usatoday.com/tech/science/2006-06-22-hurricane-blame_x.htm?POE=TECISVA

I've heard birds this summer through my Brooklyn window that I've never heard before. They're looking for new eating places and have found warmer climes, no doubt.

This is my favorite season, as it is for many teachers, but I would like the place not to drown or bake. Is that asking too much?

On a personal note: Many of you know that I've been laboring ceaselessly over my coursework for several years now. The clouds are beginning to break! I can see some sort of completion on the horizon, God willing.

So you know what that means: I've come up with some new plans...I'll keep you abreast of what they are here, natch. Now go snatch some sun and have a good one!

Best to you peakers,
Tracie

Tracie's Web

Happy end of May!

Soon the summer. Gemini season has officially started! (No suprise what sign I am...)

Here's a poem by another one of the group, who's a May baby, too. (Born 5/31/1819)


Here's the link: http://poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15816

A child said, What is the grass?
by Walt Whitman

A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full
hands;
How could I answer the child?. . . .I do not know what it
is any more than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful
green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped,
Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we
may see and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child. . . .the produced babe
of the vegetation.

Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow
zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the
same, I receive them the same.

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them;
It may be you are from old people and from women, and
from offspring taken soon out of their mother's laps,
And here you are the mother's laps.

This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old
mothers,
Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues!
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths
for nothing.

I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men
and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring
taken soon out of their laps.

What do you think has become of the young and old men?
What do you think has become of the women and
children?

They are alive and well somewhere;
The smallest sprouts show there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait
at the end to arrest it,
And ceased the moment life appeared.

All goes onward and outward. . . .and nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and
luckier.




Will be in touch! Enjoy the weather!

xo,
T

Tracie's Web

Well, Spring is springing everywhere. Folks are getting out, enjoying the air, you know, protesting. I have some spare time today because I'm not out buying stuff or spending money. Hope your May 1st was productive, too.

The official end of poetry month is today. So here's a poem. A month for poetry? And I bet you only watch Black TV in February. Here's a poem from the poets.org website...

Beneath Speech
by Mary Ann Samyn

—She lay very still, looking up at the undersides of words.

Pink was pink all the way through, like any organ might be,
plucked from the body and held quiet on a little tray—

Night was a starry dish. One side convex, one side concave.

This must be like winter for fish, she thought,
and all the nouns went seamless as ice and slightly opaque.

If she put out her tongue, she might stay there forever.

In the air, the smell of snow like bits of speech—may I
have a little word?, she wondered, because or so to cover me—


From Purr by Mary Ann Samyn. Copyright 2005 by Mary Ann Samyn. Reprinted with the permission of New Issues Poetry & Prose, Kalamazoo, Michigan. All rights reserved.



Nice, huh?

OMG: Speaking of words...you've got to check out Stephen Colbert's skewering of Bush et al on C-Span. Off the hook! First I read the transcript and was howling. Then I saw the video -- vicious. And appreciated. You can go to Cspan's website or Youtube.com.

Rallies, marches, comedians, protest songs, not a bad way to get the seaon going. For those of you finishing up school, hang in there!

Tracie

Great Scott, it's Spring!

Baby, you know the weather's getting better!

Scott McClellan (a not great-Scott) is finally outie with his *lying* self! It's balmy where I'm at. Hope it's beautiful where you are -- inside, outside or both!

Yeah, yeah. Another liar is enroute. But still. I am so *tired* of this particular onion-head. I find my happiness where I can during these challenging days.

If you've stopped by, hang in there. The flowers are blooming. There's some possibility in the air, honey!

Tracie

Tracie's Web

Getting hot enough for ya?

Happy Holidays for those who observe. Happy Birthday for those Aries it applies to. Happy Sunny Day for those areas that have got it/want it, and of course, Happy Poetry Month for those who love poetry.

Here's a lovely one for ya for the season by e.e. cummings via poets.org:


Spring is like a perhaps hand
by E. E. Cummings

III

Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.

Happy Spring!

Hi, All!

Happy Spring!

Yay! Tom Delay is a gonner! I know it's not over 'till it's over, but still...

Now I *know* the season's changing. Enjoy the flowers, even the rain and trees! Could be worse, has been worse.

Whatever you're up to, put some poetry in it. It's *April*, baby!

After several hundred posts on other websites, some of which are listed throught my little virtual home, I've decided to state my own little case here.

Hope you like! Please feel free to contact me via the blog or my direct contact (on the contact section of the site), with any comments, questions, gigs, whatever.

Enjoy the season. I *know* you've earned some bright spots in your life!

Best regards,
Tracie

It's the end of my stint at PoetryFoundation.org. It was fun to opine among the conventional poetry ways. I do like convention (sometimes) and hopefully it wasn't too "square peg/round hole" vibes. We'll see. Got some nice comments, though. Feel free to hang out here anytime.

Now that I'm warmed up a bit, look out for occassional posts and links to stuff poetic, political, performative and academic.

Thanks for the peep,
Tracie