'Garage Sale'

Ok. I started typing my entry about the Third Annual Palm Beach Poetry Festival, and I have yet to finish. I guess this means it should be my main goal of the weekend to complete that post. But until then, I want to share a poem by Laure-Anne Bosselaar. Bosselaar and Kurt Brown taught at the festival last year; however, they attended this year as observers. I adored Bosselaar last year, so I was excited when I found out she brought a few advance copies of her latest book, A NEW HUNGER, which is now on sale. Buy a copy ASAP!

I wanted to share a poem titled "Garage Sale" that Bosselaar read at the Second Annual Palm Beach Poetry Festival (it's in A NEW HUNGER). I envy the poem's ending-- beautiful, biting.... I remember the slap I felt when I heard her read it.

GARAGE SALE

      I sold her bed for a song.
A song of yearning like an orphan's.
Or the one knives carve into bread.

      But the un-broken bread
song too. For the song that a river
sings to the ferryman's oars--with

      that dread in it.
For a threadbare tune: garroted,
chest-choked, cheap. A sparrow's,

      beggar's, a foghorn's call.
For the kind of song only morning
can slap on love-stained sheets ---

      that's what I sold my mother's
bed for. The one she died in. Sold it
for a song.


I think 'Garage Sale' is my favorite poem by Bosselaar at this time. Following closely in second by her is "Stillbirth," which is also found in A NEW HUNGER. Then, as if you really care, my third fave by her is "Dinner At Who's Who," which can be found on her webpage; I had the pleasure of hearing her read that one last year. I find it is a delicate treat to hear a poet you adore read his/her own work.

Good News!

For the past three years I have volunteered for Atlanta Pride, and for the last two years I have served as the Lead Volunteer for the In-Park Donations Committee. As of February 2007, I have advanced to Co-Chair of the In-Park Donations Committee. Today was my first Atlanta Pride Committee meeting. I know it's going to be hard work and fun-- both I enjoy.

I am excited to serve on the Atlanta Pride Committee and look forward to keeping Atlanta Pride free and enjoyable.

Agnes Scott Contest

Well, the emails were sent. I didn't win nor was I a finalist. Honestly, I didn't expect to win; however, I was hoping to land a spot as a finalist because participating in a workshop led by Yusef Komunyakaa would rock. Oh well, guess I could always enter in the contest next year.

I say, win or lose, celebrate poetry........ with that in mind here's a Dustin original.....

HUMBLED

When you’re on your knees
sweeping up the pieces of glass
that used to fit snugly together
to form your beautiful heart;
when your knees ache from being
pushed into the concrete ground,
when your arms feel like they’re
about to give and you force
them to continue the task at hand
because you know there is no stopping
the wind from scattering the pieces—
that’s when you’ll be humbled.
~ Dustin Brookshire


Off to the Palm Beach Poetry Festival tomorrow.

Different Topics-- Atwood, Sadness, Aging

~ Feeling a little sad today. I shouldn't worry so much about how long it is taking me to finish college since there have been numerous obstacles tossed in my way. Since each obstacle has been different it has taken time to find a way to overcome; I wish that thought would ease the sadness, but oh well.


~ I picked up Margaret Atwood's Morning in the Burned House this evening, and here is the first poem I saw when I opened the book:

A SAD CHILD

You're sad because you're sad.
It's psychic It's the age. It's chemical.
Go see a shrink or take a pill,
or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll
you need to sleep.

Well, all children are sad
but some get over it.
Count your blessing. Better than that,
buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet.
Take up dancing to forget.

Forget what?
Your sadness, your shadow,
whatever it was that was done to you
the day of the lawn party
when you came inside flushed with the sun,
your mouth sulky with sugar,
in your new dress with the ribbon
and the ice-cream smear,
and said to yourself in the bathroom,
I am not the favourite child.

My darling, when it comes
right down to it
and the light fails and the fog rolls in
and you're trapped in your overturned body
under a blanket or burning care,

and the red flame is seeping out of you
and igniting the tarmac beside your head
or else the floor, or else the pillow,
none of us is;
or else we all are.


~ Today, I shopped for a new ink cartridge for the new printer. Clark Howard is right-- you might as well buy a new printer instead of an ink cartridge. I almost did; a Lexmark printer was on sale for $24.99, which was the cost of my cartridge, but the printer was sold out.


~ Another year older tomorrow. oh, the joy.

All You Have to do is Dream

Last night Paul and I went to see DREAM GIRLS. Honestly, I wasn't that excited about going to see the movie even though we've only heard great reviews from friends and coworkers. I walked out of the theater telling Paul that I want to own the movie and soundtrack then broke out into my own cover Deena Jones's version of "One Night Only" (Deena is Beyonce's character). This can only mean everything I've heard about the movie is true. All of the Golden Globe buzz around the movie is deserved, and I hope there is plenty of Oscar buzz around the movie as well. If you haven't, go see Dream Girls.

In case you want a summary of the movie, here's what Internet Movie Database has to say since I'm too lazy to write my own summary:
Based on the 1981 Broadway musical comes Dreamgirls, a story of greed, tough hate, and romance. Three young women Deena Jones (Knowles), Effie White (Hudson), and Lorrell Robinson (Rose) desire to become pop stars and get their wish when they're picked to be backup singers for the legendary James "Thunder" Early (Murphy). Then they're set free for leads, but James, Curtis Taylor (Foxx), and Effie's brother C.C. (Robinson) decide for Deena to be lead which upsets Effie. This movie contains both original Broadway and new songs and it's one movie that the whole family will enjoy! With Beyonce Knowles, Jennifer Hudson, Anika Noni Rose, Eddie Murphy, Jamie Foxx, Keith Robinson, and Danny Glover!

Reading Nelson

Today, during my lunch I read from Marilyn Nelson's The Fields Of Praise; it has been a while since I picked up the book, and I needed to take in Nelson's poetic beauty to drone out the stress of work. I love Nelson's poetry, and I am very thankful that I was able to hear her read at the 2nd Annual Palm Beach Poetry Festival, which was held last year.

I wanted to share a few lines that I thoroughly enjoyed in her poem "Mama's Promise"...

"I buckle him in, but what if a car
with a grille like a sharkbite
roared up out of the road?"

I love this simile-- it paints such a vivid picture for me, and I find it fresh.


Another part I enjoy from the poem.....

"Sometimes I lie awake
troubled by this thought:
It's not so simple to give a child birth;
you also have to give it death,
the jealous fairy's christening gift."

I love that she's writing about a dark truth beautifuly.



If haven't read any of Marilyn Nelson then you need to google her. She's linked on my blog.

DIVAS ANTHOLOGY: Gay Men On Their Divas

Damn procrastination, in a post a few weeks back (or maybe longer) Imentioned wanting to write a poem about my idol, Dolly Parton. In December, I found out via the Lambda Literary Foundation's webstite about a call for submissions on a project titled: DIVAS ANTHOLOGY: Gay Men On Their Divas. The deadline is January 15---wich menas my goal is to finish the poem ASAP.

Currently, I am using YouTube to bring about Dolly enjoyment and inspiration. People ask me why I love Dolly so much---- there are too many reasons to list. However, if I keep it simple: How can you not love a woman who isn't afraid to be who she wants to be, admits her heart is as big as her breats, writes beautifully, and has the voice of an angel?

I wish this clip was in better quality, but it isn't.... why I love Dolly:


I can't wait for her to tour again this year. I'll be there with bells and my Dolly Queen shirt on.

More Dolly Inspiration:
~ Click here for Dolly singing a cover of "Stairway to Heaven."
~ Click here for Dolly singin "Two Doors Down" in London in 1974.
~Click here for Dolly singing "My Coat of Many Colors" on the Porter Wagner Show.

"Poem For People That Are Understandably Too Busy to Read Poetry"

The excitement is building for the week of my birthday since the Third Annual Palm Beach Poetry Festival begins the day after my birthday (B-Day = 22nd, NO Forgetting!). I finally bought a new printer yesterday-- I've only been putting that task off for weeks. Thankfully, I got a great deal at Office Depot. I felt slightly bad for spending the money; however, it is a much needed purchase, especially since I'm too cheap to go to Kinko's during the festival, and I do needed to replace the old one so I can finally get back to sending out submissions.

Since the time of the festival is approaching I wanted to share a poem by Stephen Dunn; thankfully and luckily, I am in his workshop.

Poem For People That Are Understandably Too Busy to Read Poetry

Relax. This won't last long.
Or if it does, or if the lines
make you sleepy or bored,
give in to sleep, turn on
the T.V., deal the cards.
This poem is built to withstand
such things. Its feelings
cannot be hurt. They exist
somewhere in the poet,
and I am far away.
Pick it up anytime. Start it
in the middle if you wish.
It is as approachable as melodrama,
and can offer you violence
if it is violence you like. Look,
there's a man on a sidewalk;
the way his leg is quivering
he'll never be the same again.
This is your poem
and I know you're busy at the office
or the kids are into your last nerve.
Maybe it's sex you've always wanted.
Well, they lie together
like the party's unbuttoned coats,
slumped on the bed
waiting for drunken arms to move them.
I don't think you want me to go on;
everyone has his expectations, but this
is a poem for the entire family.
Right now, Budweiser
is dripping from a waterfall,
deodorants are hissing into armpits
of people you resemble,
and the two lovers are dressing now,
saying farewell.
I don't know what music this poem
can come up with, but clearly
it's needed. For it's apparent
they will never see each other again
and we need music for this
because there was never music when he or she
left you standing on the corner.
You see, I want this poem to be nicer
than life. I want you to look at it
when anxiety zigzags your stomach
and the last tranquilizer is gone
and you need someone to tell you
I'll be here when you want me
like the sound inside a shell.
The poem is saying that to you now.
But don't give anything for this poem.
It doesn't expect much. It will never say more
than listening can explain.
Just keep it in your attache case
or in your house. And if you're not asleep
by now, or bored beyond sense,
the poem wants you to laugh. Laugh at
yourself, laugh at this poem, at all poetry.
Come on:

Good. Now here's what poetry can do.

Imagine yourself a caterpillar.
There's an awful shrug and, suddenly,
You're beautiful for as long as you live.
~ Stephen Dunn