Folding together
I have been twitching away from writing my little emails, due to being completely gunked up with cortisol whenever I look at a computer. So instead of the close-ish reading of a poem that has been the typical mode of this newsletter, a few scattered thoughts and occurrences:
Next Friday, July 11, Chris and I are leading a Zine Lunch workshop on collaboration. You can sign up here if you’re so inclined.
Here’s a poem that’s been haunting me lately and maybe you’ll value its poet-ghosts too: “Ingathering” by Carolyn Kizer.
For 20x2: What's the Mission? earlier this year, I assembled a cento out of mission statements. You can watch me read it here.
All the catalpa trees bloomed all of a sudden these past few weeks and all the mulberry trees fruited. On the summer solstice I rode my bike at sunset to practice clipping into its new pedals. I unclipped under a mulberry on a patch of gravel and ate three dark purple fruits from its lower branches while robins hopped around the higher ones.
I’ve been trying to write a poem that begins with “riding a bike is the same anywhere in the world” but it hasn’t gone anywhere yet.
I don’t know what shape to make of my anger and despair at the fascist stranglehold on society yet but I believe we will outlive them.
Write back anytime with anything. I’m here, reading, riding, breathing.
yours,
Erin