Turning

There is nothing left
but bone --
no more skin,
no more muscle,
no more ligaments.
Just bone.

I've sat here
for nearly 40 years
bleeding
love,
joy,
peace,
patience,
kindness,
goodness,
faithfulness,
gentleness
and self-control
while you --
slap by slap,
blow by blow,
year by year --
stripped away
my flesh,
my heart,
my soul.

Today, I realized
that the pain
will never stop
as long as I
stay here.
Gripping the back
of the pew in front of me,
I manage to
stand to my feet
and slowly
find the exit
as you shout
in shock and outrage,
"But I love you!"
as the sound waves
bounce around
in the empty cavity

of my second cheek. 

Some Things

Some things
silence the
professional speaker.
Some things
stump the
international intellectual.
Some things
paralyze the
confident wordsmith.
Some things...

Detail Orientation

My mind is like
a vacuum cleaner,
sucking up
a million, minute details,
like particles of
dust, dirt and fiber.
The bits of material
spin around, colliding
into each other
in a volume
so dense and
at a rate so rapid
that they cause
my brain to buzz
like a tornado --
claiming, collecting and
wildly whirling
pieces and parcels
in a violent, possessive fury.
While my non-detail-
oriented neighbor
may have a peaceful, half-
empty vacuum cleaner bag --
with room for more matter --
mine is filled to capacity
and humming with heat.

A work haiku in honor of Labor Day:

startled by twin burps --
the secret belcher hidden
in his cubicle

(“Gee, thanks,” I thought,)

"Gee, thanks," I thought,
as she escaped her own stench
and left me in the john, barely breathing.

Summer Simplicity

As summer begins to
close her eyes in
exchange for fall's
awakening, I want
to remember these
days; what it feels
like to slip into
sandals, and hop into
the car without a
jacket and drive to
meet some friends
with Tennessee's green
hills in front of me and
the sun on my back.

A Letter to the Predator

Dear straight Christian friend,

When you post a picture of
a burning gay pride flag online,
I am not merely encountering
an expression of an opinion.
I don't simply see a person
making a statement
about an issue.
I don't view it as
an individual "deeply devoted
to a faith based on mercy and grace"
taking a stand amidst a culture war.

I see my friend
advocating -- and perpetrating --
violence against me.
I feel threatened
and frightened
and sickened.
I see -- with my own eyes --
my friend proclaiming
to me and the world
that I am worthy of abuse.
I witness my friend
declaring me fit for
gasoline
and matches
and burning flesh
and torture
and death.

I see that my friend --
my "loving, compassionate, Christ-like" friend --
is not, in fact, my friend at all.

-- Your gay neighbor

Letting Go

My latest piece for The Space Between, "Letting Go," was posted today, featuring my brand new poem "Turning." Take a look!

A rainy haiku for a rainy day like today:

The tree bark gleamed
with fresh raindrops as
the squirrel scurried home.

I Knew You Enough (Your Big, Beautiful Brilliance)

In remembrance of Celeste

I didn't know you well,
but I knew you enough.
I knew you enough
to miss your big, brown eyes --
eyes that lit up a room
almost as much
as your broad, beautiful smile.
I knew you enough
to miss the fresh perspective
and lighthearted laughter
that you brought
to every corporate meeting
and every friendly conversation.
I knew you enough
to miss the strength and brilliance
you brought to the world
as a woman; as a minority,
and the sense of pride
and courage I felt
as you enlightened
and inspired us all.
I knew you enough
to feel the weight
of the loss
of you
and your big, beautiful brilliance.
I knew you enough
to miss you now.

(Why poetry?)

Why poetry?
Because
moments matter.

(cat dusty)

The last of this week's series I ran in memory of Angel:

cat dusty
from her romp
in the windowsill

(cat in a frenzy)

In remembrance of Angel:

cat in a frenzy:
from the window --
watching falling leaves

My on-Again, off-Again Bedside Companion

In honor of Angel:

She doesn't like to cuddle
or be held.
She likes to be in control,
to call the shots.
She comes
when she's ready.
She comes
to get what she wants
and leave.
And she practices the most
peculiar positions.
She often prefers to rest her head
near my hips
and press herself against me,
begging to be stroked.
When I pet her in just
the right places,
she purrs with pleasure
and lets me know,
in no uncertain terms,
that she's glad to be
my pussycat.

(the cat)

Remembering Angel:

the cat --
my second
alarm clock

Between Catnaps

In memory of Angel:

Her silky, black paw
claimed a red circle
on the pillow
as if to begin
a silent, solo
game of Twister.

(cute:)

In remembrance of Angel:

cute:
a chirp from
my happy cat

My Girl

NOTE: My cat of 14 years, Angel, passed away on Friday.  The following poem is the first in a series I will run this week in her memory.

She knows how to be
cute.
She knows just the
right pose or look
to give me that will
send me into a
state of acute
appreciation --
the kind that seizes
me until I pet her velvet
coat.
She knows the cutest
ways to meow and
purr and stir her paws.

And she knows it.

She knows she's
cute.
And there's no way
I can help myself
from loving and
stroking and cooing
and thinking how
lucky I am to have
found her.

(After the funeral)

After the funeral
I searched my inbox
for any messages I still had from her.

(Live well and love well.)

Live well and love well.
For today is all we have,
so far as we can tell.

1 conversation at work = 2 haiku pieces

$50 bill

floating in the toilet bowl.

Who will free Billy?

~~~~~(These are waves.)~~~~~

$50 bill

in the loo.  Rear admiral

to the rescue!  Phew!

Which one floats your boat?

Haiku for a rainy day:

morning tea after
the morning rain
drop after drop

This week's holiday haiku:

the cardinal
sounding off
like the Fourth of July

with gratitude to Rebecca J. Davenport for a spectacular ending

Summertime Sandals

On this, the first day of summer, I give you:

Seasonal Criminals

There's something about
summertime sandals --

they're too much

to handle

when it comes to

the stench that

sweaty feet and

leather create.

My nostrils don't

celebrate or salivate about

the smell that emanates

from the partnership

that perpetrates

heinous crimes
against olfactory.

Soul Food

My latest piece for The Space Between, "Soul Food," was posted today, featuring my poem "If Melody Is Nourishment, Harmony Is Healing."  Eat up, y'all!

(Just like clockwork, her)

Just like clockwork, her
post-lunch sewage dump fills the
ladies' room with stench.

Thank You

Thanks to all of you who attended Women's Work this afternoon. Special thanks to Jessica, Joan, Liz, Melissa, Randy and Rebecca for your support!

You are invited!

I will be presenting some of my poetry this Mother's Day at Nashville's seventh annual Women's Work festival. Come and enjoy an afternoon of original poetry and spoken word presented by wonderful women wordsmiths!

Sunday, May 12th, at 2:30 p.m.
Z. Alexander Looby Theater
Looby Branch Library
2301 Rosa L. Parks Blvd.
Nashville, TN
$5

For more information or to purchase tickets in advance, please visit the Tennessee Women's Theater Project online.

(Business casual)

Business casual:
Yikes...that dude must have a thong
beneath his khakis.

Happy National Poetry Month: Exhibit D

My fourth and final Sunday poetry post during this year's National Poetry Month:

Why Bother With Poetry

Why bother
with poetry?
Because you're
human.  And,
from time to time,
we humans need
to be reminded of
what's important
in life,
an invitation
to laugh at ourselves,
a spotlight on
injustice in the world,
and permission
to pause, reflect and wonder.

Happy National Poetry Month: Exhibit C

The Reason I Write Poetry

I notice things --
everything.

Then I get

lost in thought

about them --

why they're done,

how often

and by whom --

sometimes

at the most

inopportune times --

during a meeting

with a co-worker,

my tax advisor

or the dentist.

And then I feel

the need to

capture my thoughts

on paper --

so I won't forget them.

And, on most days,

I have just enough

arrogance

to share what I've

put into writing

with someone else,

perhaps to validate

that I'm, in fact, alive.

Happy National Poetry Month: Exhibit B

This post is a bit belated, but no less delicious than it would have been on Sunday.  Enjoy, as we continue to celebrate National Poetry Month!

Matters of Intake

I have a friend who devours
poems like she devours
sumptuous chocolate cake --
with a feminine fortissimo,
speedily savoring each serving.

I, on the other hand,
experience poems like I
experience creme brulee or flan --
slowly, deliberately,
careful not to overdue it,
knowing that too much
of a good thing will ruin
the power of the moment.

I do not think either way
is superior -- only that one
approach is better for
that particular partaker.

Even now I am closing
a book of poetry,
instinctively knowing
when to say "when."

Women's Work 2013

I've been invited to present my poetry at the seventh annual Women's Work festival on May 12th. Stay tuned for more details!

Happy National Poetry Month: Exhibit A

During the month of April, I will be posting a poetry-related poem every Sunday, in celebration of National Poetry Month.  I hope you enjoy one (or all) of them!    

When I Read a Good Poem

When I read a good poem,
I hold
each
word
for a
moment
in my mouth
before
---- moving
on to the next one, like
one
bite
of creme brulee
after
another.

Poached by an Egg

Finished the last of
the hard-boiled eggs
this morning and
stabbed my thumb --
the shell shards
actually drawing blood.
I never knew
Easter eggs could
be so violent.

Prolonged Germination and Instant Revelation

My latest piece for The Space Between, "Prolonged Germination and Instant Revelation," was posted today, featuring my new poem "Operation Umbrella."  Take a look! 

Crappy Poems About Bathroom Business

Production work on my next chapbook, Bathroom Poems, has resumed. I’m looking forward to releasing a strong batch of poop poetry in early May. Stay tuned!

Happy Valentine’s Day!

real love: standing in
the bathroom while your partner
poops, just to catch up

Operation Umbrella

I woke up this morning
to discover that
I had been living my life
under an umbrella
I was handed
years ago by
clergy, patriarchy and society –
an umbrella that
limited my view of the world,
shielding me
from the sky and the sun,
sheltering me from
fresh air, free thinking,
free movement,
and my assimilation
with others
(and, ultimately, myself) –
an umbrella that
I had been holding
above my head
with my right hand
for thirty-some years –
an umbrella
I held because
someone handed it
to me
under the guise of
"instruction" and
"protection" and
"tradition."
That's what
you do when
someone hands you
something, right?
You hold it?

It wasn't until I
noticed the feet
of someone else
moving in a different direction –
a different pattern
than me –
that I dared
to peek outside
of the confines
of my covering to see
how that person
was able to move
so freely,
so functionally.
The umbrella
got in the way of
my view of that person
and it was then
that I noticed
the pole in my face –
the handle
that had become
such a part of me
that I did not see
it
apart
from myself.

It wasn't until I
became aware
of the umbrella
that I realized
that I was actually
holding something;
that my view had been
almost entirely obstructed;
that I had the use of
only one arm
and one hand;
that there's a reason
I had felt so
tired and frustrated
and limited
along the way;
that I finally lowered
my arm, released
the umbrella,
and threw my head back
to an open sky
and the smell
of possibility.

Jack Ridl releases new collection

I am happy to announce the release of my (former) poetry professor Jack Ridl's brand new poetry collection, Practicing to Walk Like a Heron.  I received my copy in the mail yesterday!  Jack has always been a champion of his students, past and present, and I am thrilled to be able to inform others of his great work.

Poetry: Alive and swell

My latest piece for The Space Between, "One Giant Step for Humankind," was posted today, featuring my brand new poem "One Fine Day."  I wrote the poem the day before Alexandra Petri's provocative piece "Is poetry dead?" was published.  Unbeknownst to me, my poem was written in direct contrast to Petri's controversial post, an applicable commentary of my own.  Poetry begot poetry!  Take a look for yourself.  Heck, draft a rebuttal to Petri's pondering, if you feel so inclined!

Civil Conundrum coverage continues

I was thrilled to learn that our photography/poetry collaboration Civil Conundrum recently received additional coverage by The Leaf Chronicle.  Read all about it here!

Last Week of Civil Conundrum Exhibit

This week is the last week/end of the Civil Conundrum exhibit at the Customs House Museum & Cultural Center.  If you've wanted to experience the exhibit but haven't made it to the Customs House yet, seize the day and make your way!  The show runs through Jan. 27. 

Setting the Record Straight, Practically Speaking

Straight women who dress
comfortably and practically
don't dress
comfortably and practically
because they have
"let themselves go"
or because they have
"given up on men."
Straight women who dress
comfortably and practically
dress comfortably and practically
because they want to be
comfortable and practical.

Gay women who dress
comfortably and practically
don't dress
comfortably and practically
because they
"don't want to be women"
or because they
"want to be men."
Gay women who dress
comfortably and practically
dress comfortably and practically
because they want to be
comfortable and practical.

(Two of us in the)

Two of us in the
bathroom: One is grunting and
one is disgruntled.

Fresh Snow, Fresh Start

My latest piece for The Space Between, "I Love Snow," has been posted. I wrote the poem in 2005 for Julie, a close friend since 1993. Take a look!

Civil Conundrum Chronicled

I am delighted to note that Civil Conundrum recently received coverage in The Leaf Chronicle.  I was finally able to see the exhibit at the Customs House Museum & Cultural Center in person last weekend.  What a joy to see poetry hanging on the walls of a museum!

(finishing the last)

finishing the last
glass of eggnog with the last
book of the year

(I wonder if you)

I wonder if you
still listen to the Christmas
mix I made in '06.

(Christmas cat)

Christmas cat –
bedside greeting
begins with a pounce

Family Math

At one time,
the five of us
lived in one house.
Over the years,
one house
has turned into
five homes.
Now, a couple
of times a year,
we are all under
the same roof.

Poetry Presents

As the holiday season approaches, remember: my limited edition haiku and poetry chapbooks are available for purchase, as well as the Civil-War-themed prose and poetry anthology Filtered Through Time.  To order chapbooks or an autographed copy of Filtered Through Time, e-mail me at hall_amy_e@hotmail.com or contact me via Facebook.  Stock up on gifts for the poetry lover in your life!

A call for thanksgiving

I am pleased to announce that, after entering East Side Story's Thanks + Giving Prompt contest, my poem Thanksgiving Traffic was selected and posted on the bookstore's Express Yourself page!

(bright Thanksgiving day)

bright Thanksgiving day
drinking eggnog on the porch
sunshine and crisp leaves

Thanksgiving Traffic

Three miles in an
hour and a half --
bumper-to-bumper
interstate congestion and
stomach indigestion,
angry drivers with
hungry kids, no
exit in sight, and
no explanation.
Arrivals delayed;
hugs and hand-
shakes on hold;
dinners postponed.
It was easy to get
irritated and impatient,
until we saw
the white sheet
on the ground.
Suddenly, we were
thankful for the
fume-filled air that
we were breathing.

You are invited!

I will be honored by the Customs House Museum & Cultural Center at an artist reception this Thursday, Nov. 15th, alongside my Civil Conundrum collaborators, poet Randy Foster and photographer/poet Robert McCurley.  Free and open to the public, the reception will be held at the Customs House from 5 to 7 p.m.  Join us!

My Bologna Has a Third Name

Bologna comes in
several, different flavors --
political and religious,
to name two.

Some families
eat a lot more
bologna than others.

While certain folks
raise their kids
on bologna,
others learn what
bologna is made of
and start eating
real meat --
or, better yet,
vegetables.

Aha Moments

My latest post for The Space Between, "Aha Moments," is up today, featuring my poem "Without a Honk."  Take a look!

Civil Conundrum at Customs House Museum

My collaborative project with poet Randy Foster and poet/photographer Robert McCurley, Civil Conundrum, will be a featured exhibit at the Customs House Museum & Cultural Center Nov. 2, 2012 through Jan. 28, 2013.  Based on Robert's photographic exploration of the South's fondness for war, our poems will be displayed alongside Robert's fantastic photos.  Join us for the artists reception on Nov. 15 from 5 to 7 p.m.!

Bookin’ It at East Side Story

I am pleased to announce that all of my chapbooks are available for purchase at Nashville’s newest bookstore, East Side Story.  Copies of Filtered Through Time are available there now, as well.  East Side Story exclusively features books by Nashville-area authors, as well as local literature-themed artwork. 

For those of you non-Nashvillians, as always, my haiku and poetry chapbooks, as well as copies of Filtered Through Time, can be ordered from me directly by e-mailing to hall_amy_e@hotmail.com.

High Court

He's a smart man;
a level-headed man.
He gets paid
to offer his
recommendations
and legal counsel --
to produce
proclamations
and pronouncements
and sound advice.
He has opinions about
a lot of things --
including the proper way
a woman should walk
in high heels.
I know this
because he
demonstrated
the "crisscross pattern"
on his makeshift catwalk,
a path carved out
between the stacks of
legislation and regulation
that line the floor of his office.

Autographed anthologies available

If you were unable to attend the Filtered Through Time book signing event but would like to purchase the anthology, you can buy the book directly from me, if you'd like.  I would be happy sign it, if you wish, and can procure the autographs of my fellow poets Randy Foster and Robert McCurley, as well.  To place an order, please contact me at hall_amy_e@hotmail.com.  Otherwise, the collection of American Civil War-related poetry, fiction and photography is available online through Amazon and Barnes & Noble. 

Poets and authors and photographers! Oh, my!

Thank you to everyone who made yesterday's Filtered Through Time book release such an amazing event!  I am honored to be among all the fantastic authors and photographers in the book.  A very special THANK YOU to Rebecca and the Hardins for their support!

You are invited!

Come and celebrate the release of Filtered Through Time, a brand new collection of Civil War-related poetry, fiction and photography, tomorrow!  My photographer/poet friends Randy Foster and Robert McCurley and I will be among the 50 featured authors at the event.  Meet the authors, get your book signed, and save $5 off the listed price!

Sunday, Sept. 30th, from 2 to 5 p.m.
Williamson County Public Library
1314 Columbia Ave.
Franklin, TN  37064

 Join us!

No. 2 for Me and You

My latest post for The Space Between, "Common Ground," is up today, featuring my poem "Common Round (Rumpster Dumpsters 'R' Us)."  Take a look!

Filtered Through Time available on Amazon

Filtered Through Time, a brand new collection of Civil War-related poetry and fiction, is now available for purchase at Amazon.com!  The book includes two poems written by yours truly, poems and photos by my poet/photographer friends Randy Foster and Robert McCurley, and even more original poetry and fiction by over 40 accomplished authors.  Save $5 by purchasing Filtered Through Time at the upcoming book-signing event on Sept. 30! 

Civil Conundrum comes to Customs House

I just received excellent news regarding my poetry for the Civil Conundrum project.  My poems will soon be mounted and hung next to the photographs that inspired them at the Customs House Museum & Cultural Center in Clarksville, Tenn., as will the work of my collaborators, poet Randy Foster and poet/photographer Robert McCurley.  The show will run at Customs House November 2012 through January 2013.  More details to come!

Filtered Through Time Book Signing

You are invited to attend a book signing for the forthcoming Civil War fiction and poetry anthology Filtered Through Time.  My photographer/poet friends Randy Foster and Robert McCurley and I will be among the 50 featured authors at the event.

Sunday, Sept. 30th, from 2 to 5 p.m.
Williamson County Public Library
1314 Columbia Ave.
Franklin, TN
FREE

Bring a friend!

Congrats to My Partner in Rhyme

Congratulations are in order for my friend and fellow poet Randy Foster, co-author of my latest poetry chapbook, Sugar and Spice and Nothing That's Nice.  Randy was named one of four winners of this year's Tomato Art Fest tomato haiku contest! 

MATERial

My entries for the Tomato Art Fest's tomato haiku contest have been submitted.  As always, any good news will be posted here.  May the best material win!

Hot Haiku Action

I was happy to learn that the tomato haiku contest has returned to East Nashville's spicy Tomato Art Fest!  Stay tuned for more juicy details!

Processing Pain With Poetry

My latest post for The Space Between, "Processing Pain," is up today, featuring my poem "The Lord Giveth and His People Taketh Away."  Take a look!

(the cardinal)

the cardinal
sounding off
like the Fourth of July

with gratitude to Rebecca J. Davenport for a spectacular ending

Creativity and Courage Collide

My latest post for The Space Between, "The Moment That Inspiration and Courage Collide," is up today, featuring my poem "Universe or Bust."  Take a look!

Thank You

Thanks to all of you who attended Women's Work this afternoon. Special thanks to Andrea, Destiny, Joan, Randy and Rebecca for your support!

Mother's Day Poetry Event

I will be performing some of my poetry this Mother's Day at Nashville's sixth annual Women's Work festival. Come and enjoy an afternoon of original poetry and spoken word presented by lovely lady poets!

Sunday, May 13th, at 2:30 p.m.
Z. Alexander Looby Theater
Looby Branch Library
2301 Rosa L. Parks Blvd.
Nashville, TN
$5

For more information or to purchase tickets in advance, please visit the Tennessee Women's Theater Project online.

Gettin' Handsy

It was my pleasure to accept a recent invitation to serve as a contributor to the brand new arts blog The Space Between, from a poet's point of view.  Check out my debut TSB blog post, "Use Your Hands," which features my poem "Hands"!

National Poetry Month

On this, the last day of National Poetry Month, I'm rerunning an oldie, but a goodie.

When I Read a Good Poem

When I read a good poem,
I hold
each
word
for a
moment
in my mouth
before
---- moving
on to the next one, like
one
bite
of creme brulee
after
another.

Women's Work 2012

I've been invited to present my poetry at the sixth annual Women's Work festival on Sunday, May 13th. More details to come!

(Happiness is a)

Happiness is a
personal library stocked
with books yet unread.

Why Bother With Poetry

Why bother
with poetry?
Because you're
human.  And,
from time to time,
we humans need
to be reminded of
what's important
in life,
an invitation
to laugh at ourselves,
a spotlight on
injustice in the world,
and permission
to pause, reflect and wonder.

He Measures His Days With Trips to the Vending Machine (The Vending Machine King)

With a nod to T. S. Eliot

I've never known anyone
with such a devotion
to junk food.
Lays Classic Potato Chips,
Cheddar & Sour Cream Ruffles,
peanut butter and cheese crackers,
plain chocolate M&M's.
He loves them all.
He's even been known to
chomp through a bag of
Fiery Habanero Doritos
at 9:30 a.m.
Add Coca-Cola after
countless Coca-Cola,
and you'll have
a snapshot of
his workday,
from coin to crunch.

The Definition of Insanity Turned on Its Head

If we were all born
with different genetics --
different hair
textures, hues and thicknesses,
different eye
colors, shapes and sizes,
different nose,
breast and chest guises,
different skin tones,
and cheek bones
and ear lobes,
different lips and hips and dips,
different metabolisms,
heights and body types --
why do we,
in all our glorious variety,
seek to shed our delicious diversity
in order to adhere to
one "standard" of beauty or identity?

(She doesn't know that)

She doesn't know that
I write haiku about her
bathroom behavior.

Haiku Help

Which version do you prefer?

1
lady who rocked the
elephant fart burst out of
her stall like a bull

2
lady who rocked the
elephant fart shot out of
her stall like a mouse

Droppings

I really hope
that the woman who used
the bathroom before me
was eating (and dropping)
chocolate
in the stall...

Uncomfortable With Life

A Preference for Plastic Pleasure

There is a growing contingent
of people these days
who seem to be
uncomfortable with life.
Not uncomfortable
due to the ugly, painful
realities of life --
breakups, cancer, crime --
uncomfortable with the
beautiful, pain free
moments of life.
Uncomfortable having an
old-fashioned, face-to-face
conversation with a good friend
without fiddling with
their BlackBerry.
Uncomfortable taking a walk
without monitoring their
Smartphone for the latest
Amazon deal.
Rather than witnessing
a gorgeous sunset with the family,
they are the folks
sitting on the porch swing
surrounded by their loved ones,
but focusing on their iPhones,
playing Words With Friends
without speaking a single
syllable to their own flesh and blood.

(real love: standing in)

real love: standing in
the bathroom while your partner
poops, just to catch up

News to Beat the Blues

I am pleased to report that I now have one less rejection letter to my name!  My poems "I'll Be Here" and "Instruments of War" will be published in the forthcoming book Filtered Through Time, an anthology of original fiction and poetry reflecting how a variety of traditions and reactions to the Civil War have come down through the generations for 150 years.  More details to come!

(The duck swimming in)

The duck swimming in
the empty pool doesn't know
the pool's not for him.

The Poet's Job

The poet's job is to remind us what is most important in life, to help us laugh at ourselves, to highlight injustice, to cause us to pause, reflect and wonder.

Civil Conundrum Clips

For those of you who were unable to attend Saturday's Civil Conundrum performance (or for those of you who care to revisit the harrowing, humorous presentation), clips of the program can be viewed here.

The Art of Great Company

Thank you to all of you who attended today's performance at The Arts Company.  What a great group that gathered; what a great gallery!  Special thanks to Betsy, Carolyn, Chris, the Hardins, Joan, Josh, Joy, Rebecca and Sarah for their support!  A very special thanks to my partner in rhyme, Randy Foster, and especially to photographer Robert McCurley, who inspired the entire presentation.

You are invited!

Civil Conundrum
~ Civil War poetry by Randy Foster, Amy E. Hall and Robert McCurley, inspired by the photographs of Robert McCurley ~

Join us for a performance that promises to be both harrowing and humorous!

Saturday, Feb. 11th, from 2 to 3 p.m.
The Arts Company
215 5th Ave. of the Arts
Nashville, TN  37219

* Admission is free, but reservations are required.  RSVP to art@theartscompany.com or call 615.254.2040. *

Civil Conundrum Coverage

My current project, Civil Conundrum -- a collaborative photography-poetry program with Robert McCurley and Randy Foster, was covered in the Nashville Scene's latest issue.  Civil Conundrum is part of a larger exhibit called The South Through Eight Lenses & a Code.  For more information, visit The Arts Company's current exhibition page.

(ban on "bored" meetings)

ban on "bored" meetings:
espresso, shortbread cookies;
jazz records on low

In This Wow

Have you ever
held a book
in your hands
that felt so right?
A book that
felt perfect,
and supple
and soft, but
firm in all the right places?
A book that
belongs
in your hands
at this moment;
at this time?
A book that
was written
years ago
but was meant
for you
right here; right now?
A book that,
in this moment,
makes time and space
make sense
in this place,
in this moment,
in this now?

(always worrisome)

always worrisome:
unexplained droplets on the
floor next to the john

Tennessean previews my latest project

Photographer Robert McCurley has asked Randy Foster and me to collaborate on a photo-poetry project re: the Civil War.  Sneak a peek at The Tennessean's preview here.  More details to come!

(Miles Davis on tap)

Miles Davis on tap
grape juice in the stereo
a New Year's Eve day