POEMS
A poem from the Jan. 30th reading with David Cavanagh at the Pierson Library: A Tree Cries II.
APRIL 2024, Part of Poem City in Montpelier, Vermont.
Saturday, SEPTEMBER 30, 2023: 5:50-6:20pm GREEN MOUNTAIN BOOK FESTIVAL: I’m reading some poems with Flynndog Poets at The Lampshop at Radio Bean, Burlington, Vermont. Many poets are featured throughout the evening. I hope to see you!
Sunday, OCTOBER 29, 2023: Noon-8pm READING MY POEMS AS PART OF THE FOMITE FESTIVAL. Main Street Landing, Battery Street, Burlington, Vermont.
O SONG, a new collection of poems, will be published by Fomite Press in 2025! The book has evolved and fermented for a long time and I’m excited to see it come to light. The poems sing of the ordinary that’s really not ordinary, love, loss + the surprising music between stillness and experience. Expect a book launch in summer, 2025 and some previews in November. Mixed media, SONG, by me below.
Click here to hear me read POEMS FROM MY BOOK, EVERYONE LIVES HERE, WITH DAVE CAVANAGH AND STEVEN RAY SMITH AT MALVERN BOOKS IN AUSTIN, TX
March, 2020
with Steven Smith and David Cavanagh at MALVERN BOOKS in Austin, Texas.
613 W. 29th St
Austin, TX 78705
512-322-2097
Click HERE to hear Ross Cagenello interview me as part of the Fomite Author Spotlight series. We talk about my history as an artist-poet studying in Canada, the connection between pierogies and cabaret, and poetry as loaded code & shorthand Thank you, Ross! It was fun.
BUY Everyone Lives Here HERE
Poems on the theme of hands in Five:2:One HERE
Nov. 9, 2016
AT THE STUDIO
She decided that when she got there
she would be okay. Like a place
could do that: Like
a place could rearrange her
for her. She
came for the time.
She came for the backdrop, the backtrack, the endrun, the redress,
the sideways.
And she came to watch. She came for the time to watch.
~
I’m down here
where nothing is lonely. I’m down
here where
all is forgiven. I’m down here
where everything is given
a theme-
song and a rhythm,
a lean
letter-
opener, a narrow
blade of licorice
a choice.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
IN THE DREAM
I.
In the dream it was a totem pole.
In the dream there was more than one.
In the dream we were working together.
II.
In the dream it was stubborn.
In the dream it resisted
completion; it wanted to be a clothes rack
or a croquet mallet.
In the dream it would not be built.
III.
In the dream it was a penis.
In the dream it was strapped to my waist
or surgically attached.
n the dream it was a soft nozzle,
a nose. In the dream
it could smell me.
IV.
In the dream it was a dance.
It was a dance I invented
and it moved both ways.
In the dream I leaned
into them both
and fell.
In the dream I filled.
In the dream I was a pattern.
I repeated and grew.
V.
In the dream I was walking
toward the totem, the penis,
the dance. In the dream
I was carrying it off.
_______________________________________________________________
WHAT DIRT SMELLS LIKE:
deep thunder, layers
of mink
stole, chocolate
cake, crumbled
trees, human
blood, one-third
of your life, the opposite
of sky, sleep’s
thirsty floor,
silver and
worms
working it under,
under and in-
side and out, a bed.
_________________________________________
L'EAU
It was the way I could hear her
even when I couldn't hear her.
It was her voice in the water, so
cold that it stung. It was the snowball
bush in the front yard, drunk
on its own gooey sweetness. It
was her arm over her head like
she was reaching for something.
It was moving like that. It was
the center of the earth in each
of her foot soles. It was finally
warm enough. It was her breath
growing mothlike and furred in the
mirror. It was her hair, period. It was
something about salt.
It was moving.
_______________________________________
Click on "Weeping in the Kmart, Premenstrual" reprinted from the Fall/Winter, 2011 issue of Green Mountains Review. Hear Who Will Save Your Soul by Jewell
All work copyrighted www.sharonwebster.com
