Homes beyond harm
Hello again from my mind palace of poems and overthinking what to say about them and how they ought to be. Instead of being paralyzed by the breathtaking indescribable horrors of the world I will just extend my small hopes for ends to wars and genocides on every continent, for a free Palestine and fair and just elections everywhere. (I’ve been giving to Anera, for what it’s worth, for what I can do.)
Some happenings: Almost five years to the day after I last read there, I will be reading at Tuesday Funk a week from today on June 2. Doors at 7, reading at 7:30. I'm excited to read an essay from a forthcoming zine about the NC state toast, so please come toast with me if you're around town and free.
I also wrote a goofy sincere prose poem about hot sauce and home in the Harvestime fanzine I edited, which you can now find at Quimby's and Uncharted Books in Chicago and online through Bitza Press.
My poetry analysis neurons simply are not firing on this one rare day that I have time and energy to send this email. Maybe you can find your own cozy and contemplative path through this fine poem, "A Study through Homes" by Ae Hee Lee. Although I find an uneasy ambiguity every time I try to parse the striking line "home is a fist that dreams," you know I love homes and hands and their places in poems. I’m ready to end two years of not knowing how to recommend this poem by just delivering it and letting it be.
OK thank you for reading my scattered something-or-others. Send me your favorite poems about home or birds or wonder, anytime.
Yours warmly,
Erin