20 aught fucking 13, yo!
mama didn't tell you this yet, but last year mama went to albuquerque & met some great peeps
mama's not cheating on you, don't worry
these peeps are doing the great things in denver this weekend. check this link out! you can hear mama read two of her poems there, too. for free! for realsies!
(mama's a little nervous/boozy in the first poem but by the second she's miming fucking walls & boxes, yo
mama loves your walls & your boxes; she loves your floors & chapels & valleys & fjords & ...)
this will be the year mama stops berrymanning her colleague's porches. promise.
this will be the year mama makes her own highball. once.
this will be the year the chilluns don't run from mama. ninja.
this will be the year mama'll hang with those awesome peeps. again.
KANSAS CITY IN FEBRUARY!
this will be the year mama writes the 2nd novel. it is a new novel. it's tentatively growing. it kicks when mama whispers the name, papa's bones/march of the daughters. it's a long name for such a wee thing right now.
this'll be the year a book is a baby.
henry miller sd so: "Perhaps it is because the book has begun to grow inside me. I am carrying it around with me everywhere. I walk through the streets big with child and the cops escort me across the street. Women get up to offer me their seats. Nobody pushes me rudely anymore. I am pregnant. I waddle awkwardly, my big stomach pressed against the weight of the world."
this year may you all have a book or something inside you that pushes against the world.
or at least i hope you get some tickles, yo