Twenty Years of Line Upon Line

Today, I celebrate 20 years of this, my very first poetry blog, where I've posted free verse poems, haiku, and poetry event announcements for two decades!  Twenty years later, I'm still writing, publishing and performing.  Here's to the next 20 years!

(I'm listening to)

I'm listening to

a harpist's album on my

way to a ska show.

(The neighboring frogs,)

The neighboring frogs,

blackbirds and roosters competing

for loudest tone.

Thank You!

By all accounts, this year's Holland Pride Festival was a success!  I loved being surrounded by queer joy and community kindness.  Thanks to Annette, Jenna, John, Mads, Matt, Michelle, Natalia, Reka, Sheryl, Sophie, Tobi, and Vicki for their support!  And a very special thank you to Katherine for her amazing love and support!

Presenting Poetry at Pride

I am pleased to announce that I will be performing at this year's Holland Pride Festival!  I will be presenting my original free verse poetry on the main stage from 2:20 to 2:30 p.m.

 

Holland Pride Festival

Saturday, June 27, from 1 to 6 p.m. 

* Amy performs from 2:20 to 2:30 *

Kollen Park, 240 Kollen Park Dr., Holland, MI  49423

 

I would love to see your smiling face and feel your support there.  Join us! 

Like Helicopter Wings Ready to Soar

I lived for many years

with my proverbial hands

at my sides --

prim and proper,

contained and acceptable,

limited and stifled. 

 

Now I raise my arms

parallel with the horizon --

like helicopter wings ready to soar --

no longer contained

to someone else's

idea of who I should be

or what is acceptable,

expressing my full self,

embodying

strength and

compassion and 

justice and 

peace and

kindness and 

confidence and 

PRIDE. 

 

Now I am at home

in my body -- just like

I used to be as a 

small, queer kid

in the middle of nowhere Indiana

before the world got its claws

on me.

(summertime snow)

summertime snow
cottonwood seeds
float, flit and blow

Apparently, Americans Like Their Men to Look Like Grown Adults and Their Women to Look Like Teenage Girls

Why is it that,

when a male is young and thin,

in hindsight, we say, "Ha!  Ha!  He looked like a kid!" --

while, at present,

after years of filling out,

he "finally looks like a man,"

while, at the same time,

when a female is young and thin,

in hindsight, we say, "She looked fantastic!" --

while, at present,

after years of filling out,

she "has really let herself go"?

Advice for Poets Reading Their Work in Public for the First Time

(If you rush through the piece too quickly or quietly, no one will be able to truly hear and experience all the time and effort you took to create your poem.)

• First, take a breath.
• Center yourself in the moment -- this moment.
• Remember that this is your poem.  You created it out of thin air and brought it into the world.  That.  Is.  Powerful.  Remember, you did that! 
• If there's a microphone, put your mouth very close to it before you speak and stay there.
• Speak slowly -- slower than what feels natural. 
• Feel the words in your mouth as you say them.  Accentuate words for emphasis, ride the rhythm, and carry the cadence of this particular piece.
• Feel the words in your body as they leave your mouth and recognize their strength.
• Feel the words through your hands as you speak them.  Let your hands narrate in tandem with your words -- the words that you have lovingly, painstakingly crafted and drafted with intention and precision.
• Take.  Your. Time.  Savor the syllables and sentences and stanzas that you carefully curated.
• Hold the moments in your mouth and in your hands.
• Make eye contact with the listeners in order to increase your connection with them and their connection with you.
• Before you finish, give yourself permission to pause, resonate and ruminate in the wonderment that you created out of nothing for this moment -- this moment that you cultivated and carved out of time for this very purpose and this particular poem.

(seagulls ignoring)

seagulls ignoring

multiple Private Dock and

No Trespassing signs

Even Though

Even though my mother is homophobic,

I still appreciate the fact that I

inherited her artistic, do-it-yourself ingenuity.

 

Even though my father is homophobic,

I am still thankful that I

inherited his gregarious professionalism and social skills. 

 

Even though my parents think

I'm going to hell and breaking their hearts,

that my being queer causes people --

and appliances -- to literally die, and that I 

and anyone like me are ruining the country,

I am still grateful that I

grew up feeling safe and loved as a child. 

 

Even though it is no longer safe for me to

spend time with my parents,

and I grieve the fact that they think I am evil,

and I wish they they would love me

for being the tender, compassionate, brave person

I have become,

I still feel fortunate that they

made me who I am today.

 

I am confident and soft and bold and kind and caring

and queer

even though

they are not.

(A good relationship)

A good relationship

keeps you feeling both

completely adored and

completely humbled.

Thank You!

By all accounts, the LEVITATE Holland Arts Festival was a success!  Thanks to all of you who attended the poetry program yesterday.  A very special thanks to Charmayne, Javier, Jessy, Kathy, Kenzie, and Marianna -- as well as Katherine and Rissa -- for your support!

Performing at LEVITATE: Holland Arts Festival

I am pleased to announce that I have been invited to perform at the inaugural LEVITATE: Holland Arts Festival and will be participating during the POETRY BLOCK that afternoon.

 

LEVITATE: Holland Arts Festival

Saturday, Feb. 21, from 2:40 to 3:40 p.m. (POETRY BLOCK)

Herrick District Library Auditorium 

300 S. River Ave.

Holland, MI  49423 

 

Please join us! 

(the smell of a coffeehouse)

the smell of a coffeehouse:
one of the things I fell
in love with in college

Snow Garden

Our yard was a garden
of snow and our father
was the gardener. He
made snow forts and
an obstacle course of
sorts for my sisters and
me in the front yard one
winter. It was an exciting
adventure, and a little
bit scary, but I felt safe
knowing that Dad was
guiding the sled and
guarding the fort. I still
remember his laugh
that day as we squealed
with delight, holding tight
to the orange, plastic sled.