Saturday, June 8, 2013

The Spider Poetry/Prose Challenge

Why should this blog be all about me?  Why can't it be about you, and spiders, too? Please submit up to three poems or short (500 words or less) blocks of prose containing the spider as image, myth, or word by July 3. During the August I'll share the best submissions. The works submitted do not have to be "about" spiders, or in any particular form or format, but should contain at least one word or phrase that connotes arachnids: web, spider, weave, etc. This is your chance to be viewed by the veritable dozens of "Lives of the Spiders" readers. If the call for work takes on extra zing and fizz, we can think about an anthology, of the e-book or print format.  But let's just start with spiders, and writing. Ready, set, write.  (Or send, if you have that one spiderwork poised and ready in a file or drawer)

 From Spiders (c. 1941):

     Spiders keep on growing and molting until they are full-grown. One of the pictures on page 22 shows a trap-door spider that has just molted. In time the female spiders find mates and lay eggs. The story then begins all over again.

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Tuesday Funk, with Rhinos, and Spiders Oh My

I read at the Tuesday Funk reading series in May.  And this was captured via modern technology and now its on the internets and such.

Monday, June 3, 2013

You May Run Into Gertrude Stein on the Bustled Streets of New York City

I was in NYC for BookExpo, the big annual bookselling conference.  Walking to a dinner that was going to be paid for by the publishers, and understand that if you are a bookseller at BEA pretty much all your food and drink will be paid by publishers, I ran across this lovely sculpture of Miss Gertrude Stein, looking both solid and also cloud-like, in a Buddha kind of way. It was such a pleasure to see her. Among all the flash, and promotions, and publicity machines grinding their tired gears, it's good to be reminded that part of of the industry is rooted in a love of words, and how they an be coaxed to play and be new.  The dinner, by the way, was lovely, and I like writer Lauren Myracle even more than I did before.


Elephant beaten with candy and little pops and chews all bolts and reckless reckless rats, this is this.


Dining is west.


Celery tastes taste where in curled lashes and little bits and mostly in remains.

(Three of my favorite sections of Tender Buttons, first published in 1914.)