Around the millenium our young adult daughter held a family conference to help her sort out her career plans. She was considering a number of competing options; her most important criterion was to find something that she felt passionate about. I remember being struck by both the expression and the idea itself. Growing up I had mostly heard the word “passion” in one of two contexts: the “Passion of Christ,” referring to Jesus’ suffering on the cross (as in the St. Matthew Passion), or – in cheap paperback books I wasn’t supposed to be reading – as forbidden, sexual desire. The term…
Back to Nature
We took to the woods
to escape from our desks,
from our books and our podcasts,
too many reviews of arts and of letters:
from culture consumed directly
or through mediation of others.
We wanted the freshness of nature.
We walk in the woods,
we keep our eyes open
to take in the freshness of nature.
“Oh, look,” you call out,
“that squirrel with a nut in its mouth!
Sitting so still, so frozen in time –
it’s just like a statue,” you say.
“I love this blanket of leaves we wade through,
soft and deep – like a thick Persian carpet,”
I declare and continue,
“And the view up…
Cybersexisten: Neuigkeiten aus den USA 16.11.2014
Ich habe den folgenden Text Mitte November 2014 bei einer Lesung mit Luise im Endlich-Salon des Frauencafés endlich im Hamburg vorgetragen. Ich poste ihn leicht verändert hier wieder. -Joey Horsley
Ich habe in der Ankündigung gelesen, dass ich euch heute abend “mit einer gehörigen Portion Ironie über die sprachliche Herrenkultur in den USA” unterhalten werde. Ob mir das gelingt? Jedenfalls werde ich versuchen, über einige Neuigkeiten von drüben zu berichten. Denn, obwohl ich jetzt über einen Monat bei Luise in Hannover bin, habe ich wie…
I walk to raise my heart rate
and my mood. To count my steps
I wear a wireless wellness monitor –
it’s called a Fitbit.
(I didn’t want to go.
Glued to my chair and screen
I’d rather keep on playing,
addicted as I am
to Solitaire and constant
buzz of broadcast news.
of these bad habits.
I should be more productive.)
Success: my shoes are on,
the door is shut behind me
and halfway up the hill
I start to see
the trees and hear
the curving cries of jays
proclaiming autumn’s onset.
I take the path into the woods,
A poem for Susan P. Bachrach (November 1939 – May 2013).
This poem was written soon after Sue Bachrach’s death, by Dorian Brooks, poet and activist for women’s and American Indian rights, and a Radcliffe classmate of mine and Sue’s. Sue was a devoted student of art history and traveled to Germany to research and write about the painter Paula Modersohn-Becker. Her essay of some 20 years ago “Paula Modersohn-Becker (1876-1907): Woman and Artist as Revealed Through Her Depiction of Children” may be found at Fembio: Woman and Artist Through her Depiction of Children. Sue was diagnosed with…