I show you a photo of the inside of my mind
flicks and prompts and things a going on
I got an email from Library of America to rsvp for a free viewing of Colin Still’s documentary O Mother Gaia: The World of Gary Snyder. You can register and then watch the film Tuesday, 8/19, through Thursday, 8/21, when they send you a link. I thought some of you may like to watch this.
Been reading a friend of his too lately: Lew Welch. I’ve had this Ring of Bone book for so very long, given to me by my buddy Rob Jones who is both a great human and artist. The wiki page about Lew’s death seems so chilling to me.
On May 23, 1971, Welch walked out of poet Gary Snyder's house in the mountains of California, leaving behind a suicide note. He had with him a stainless steel Smith & Wesson .22 caliber revolver. His body was never found.[1]
Some Lew poems:
Some writing prompts:
The before now: Think about the spot where you live or spend time. What was there before you? Before the buildings or roads? Before people? Look up what your area was like 200 or 500 years ago. Write about the same place across different times. Maybe you are in there somewhere too. You are a character. Or this is a poem? Or an experimental piece? You know, you don’t have to be some experimental artist of note to be experimental with your art or writing. You can just do it.
Avoidance: Write about a person you ignore. Someone you cross the street to escape or don't answer their calls, texts, pretend not to see. Write about what they have done or mean to you. What do they represent? What parts of them are hard to handle?
Missing Person: How do you miss someone before they even leave? Follow the trail from your mind to your heart and report back. Maybe draw a map. Create directions. Wet a paper with your tears.
Old writing I found:
The Ohio River calls me home as summer lifts her dress to us all. There are old men on the side of the highway with berries and red, fat tomatoes. Arms hang out of car windows. Motorcycles speed past. There is so much green. I turn towards you and ask you to walk with me. I show you my Appalachian heart.
Upcoming Events:
I’ll be running a poetry/writing FLOWER pickin’ workshop at Yellowood Farm this month. Please come!
Anxiety and dread score today: 6.
Inside of my mind looks like this:
You? I’m trying real hard. I think I can, I think I can get my shit together. I’m putting together a free writing zoom this weekend to give to you! I’m also going to be going away into the woods to write very soon, and this is keeping me sane. I can almost taste the quiet, the way my phone will be locked in my car most of the day. The night. Bruce Sprinsteeen records and whiskey at night and the moon over my hometown. And the promise of everything. That promise.
Did you do the spell? Many of you did and told me about it. Love.
Leave me a comment if you want invited to the free workshop.
ilysm
xo
Amy
Your are clearly a well-read poet, Amy. I've had an affair with Lew Welch for half a century. He even guest-lectured at the college I briefly attended, forever remembered for his haiku-ish advertising promise during his dabble in that career choice: "RAID KILLS BUGS DEAD." I've never had any doubt that it was Lew's choice to transform through the jaws of the turkey buzzards he celebrated in verse.