Allison Blevins
writing
WATERLINE
By Ocean Vuong
If I should wake & the Ark
the Ark already
gone
If there was one shivering thing
at my side
If the snow in his hair
was all that was left
of the fire
If we ran through the orchard
with our mouths
wide open
& still too small
for amen
If I nationed myself
in the shadow
of a colossal wave
If only to hold on
by opening—
by kingdom come
give me this one
eighth day
let me enter
this nearly-gone yes
the way death enters
anything fully
without a trace
Taken from Emergence Magazine
MICRO AGGRESSIONS
This is a series of poems that can be read in full here.
Abdul Ali
#9
On the day of your interview a full itinerary is prepared. Jokingly, you wonder
if you should have requested potty breaks. Never has your day been this structured.
About six or seven hours of back-to-back meetings. During lunch you meet the only
Black faculty member in English, who is leaving. You don’t think anything
of it except that the coincidence is more than ironic. You try to make small talk.
You want to gauge if there is any coded language from the “sista”
that says Get Out. Do not succumb to this Sunken Place. Instead,
you get an unexpected quiz during lunch from the Black faculty member.
“How will you as a Black man teach these privileged kids
how to read Black literature as universal?” Before you can respond, she cuts you off
A little surreal prose poem
So Day 4 of #GloPoWriMo and I’ve managed to read poetry and write some for the last four days. I’m pleased with that as it’s the most I’ve written all year!
I’m sharing this little surreal prose poem that came my way by Franz Kafka that really inspired me. The illustration is by Aimee Pong and you can find more illustrated poems by Kafka here too.
This is what I wrote jumping off The Sirens-
The sirens of waiting – a surreal prose poem
Waiting. Seductive voices floating through the dark night draw me in with the promise of beauty; laying down my load and being rescued.
Thick velvet air, their song like the Sirens overwhelm my senses leading me to think I’m safe and wanted and loved. Isn’t this how all men ( little boys in grown up clothes) draw their prey in?
The Black Madonna, another mother for all white people. With my eyes sharpened through carrots, I’m no longer waiting for someone to come and save me. There is no one. There is no such person. It was a construct fed on a reel since the day I took my first breath. A falsehood fed like life itself.
I’m the one I’ve been waiting for. Me in all my fucked up glory is the one who will save me. I see it now. I feel it now. I hear it now in my lament sung aloud. Listen. Doesn’t it sound so beautiful?
It’s a blessing
Day 3 of GloPoWriMo and I promise the last one from Lucile Clifton ( for now!).
And this poem, I just love the tone, the softness which for me mirrors the moving of the boats out with the tide into the deep waters.
The smooth cruise of wood on water is a the sight to behold. But there is love here and a turning away from fear and a floating off into the future with hope.
This is not about boats this is a blessing, a wish on how to live our lives. And I totally buy into it with an open heart.
To keep that innocence, to keep that hope within our hearts against the odds, against our day to day struggles is a gift. Is a blessing.
my kissmaking hand
I’m sticking with Lucille Clifton today for day 2 of GloPoWriMo because I don’t think I read enough of her. I don’t think anyone can read enough of Lucille Clifton.
I came to her writing late and I’m not going to beat myself up to catch up. I’m going to savour every poem I read of Clifton’s as I don’t believe her poetry, her words should be rushed.
Clifton’s words have the ability to live in the bones of a person and that’s where I want them to lodge and not let go.
So today I share ‘cutting greens’ because of this poem’s ‘kissmaking’ – nature and humans as one.
GloPoWriMo
April is Global Poetry Writing Month (GloPoWriMo). And I need it as things become apparent in the next couple of weeks as I share here.
I need to get writing but have been fighting a cold and bug for the last week so my energy levels are low.
But I’m moving through it grateful for each day I feel a bit better and manage to get out for a walk.
I am going to be writing poems this month but for me writing goes hand in hand with reading.
So this month of writing poems will see me sharing poems here. As a motivator as a means of getting out of a rut.
So today – Day 1, I share a favourite poem from Lucille Clifton.
The North Sea
Do you have a favorite place you have visited? Where is it?
I’m grateful to live by the sea.
After a traumatic time in my life, I advocated for myself. I needed time to heal and forget. To be soothed and held.
So I proposed to my family a move to the coast was needed. That’s nearly 15 years ago now. And maybe that move has been thrown back in my face at different times by certain people, I’ve never regretted the move.
Being able to see the sea daily, even if there are times I forgot and neglect this ritual, has been beneficial for my soul, n never mind my body and mind. My soul.
The sea is my soul food. And there have been many times, many times in the past, now and probably to come when I will need this soul food more than I really know/feel.
And she’s there for me. The North Sea is on my doorstep. And I greet her with open arms. She is never the same sea twice and I take my direction/ way of being from her so that I’m living my life within the expansive realms of self-expression rather than within the confines offered to me via this so-called society/ culture.
The sea supports me, being me. And I give thanks to her for that. But I also appreciate her beauty and power and way of being which is on her own terms. you’ve got to love that!
Using Today As A Catch -Up Day
It’s what I do right. When I’ve been absent from the blogs, websites and zines, absent from the public realm, then I take a day out of my schedule to catch -up with them all. To post something, to let my readers know that I’m still here. Still alive and kicking. When I get my bum in the seat and force myself to write, something comes along to fill in the blank spaces. And today is no exception.
I’ve been dancing around cyberspace, updating my spaces with words and reflections and memories.
So for now I’d just like to point you in the direction of Studio Notes over on Substack where I’ve just posted about my nana Amber. For some reason, she’s been on my mind this week, and there at the smell of brown bread from the kitchen she comes back fully to life. Check it out and if you feel inclined, add a comment or even become a subscriber, free or paid.
All is welcome.
Living Wild Studios 