Louise Bourgeois: An Unfinished Poem

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(thanks to the great Lemon Hound blog for photo!)

A couple of years ago, I was on the way to New York and poet Lee Ann Brown happened to mention that she'd enjoyed the Louise Bourgeois Retrospective at the Whitney.  I had heard legends about Bourgeois' salon, and sculptor Judy Fox had been meaning to bring me over, but I hadn't made it there and didn't really know a lot about Bourgeois' work other than the Spiders. But I knew I had to go . .  .

And yes, that exhibit's spiralling journey through the restless curiosity, wild sensuality and heroic courage of her career really blew me away.  What a journey of texture, form, and heart, to the very end when the layers of expertise were peeled back and the raw pain of some of her formative experience revealed! What an inspiration to keep growing younger in heart and soul while older in mind and skill!

I felt compelled to pull out my notebook almost immediately, even during the early totem poles on the lower levels of the exhibit, and kept writing raptly as I climbed the ramps as slowly as possible, spiralling back over and over, notebook in hand, moved over and over to words.

Justice and Prejudice

This image of Justice and Prejudice comes from David Dismore's collection of Suffragist art.  The  fascinating account of how the Women's Suffrage movement used postcards and stamps  and finally got their message focused is instructive on every level.

On Not Wearing Black

When I started my sartorial rebirth, well over half the clothes in my wardrobe were black.  I had been favoring black since at least age 14, when I padded around barefoot in my favorite black leotard and patched jeans, through college, where I swooped across campus in a long black wool cloak, to clubbing's black miniskirt, graduate school's black v-neck pullover, pregnancy's black cotton maternity dress, poetry readings' black portrait neckline, and so on for nearly forty years.  My mother told me she didn't think I should wear so much black; when I asked her why she could only say that it depressed her.  She said it for so many years that I never really heard her. A painting teacher said she didn't use black, but darkest purple or brown instead; she considered black a color that hurt spiritual energy.  I thought she was making an aesthetic mistake.

How could a poet not be happy with a windmill...

how could I not be happy with a story like this?  What I love about living right now is that the movement towards a lifestyle that is cleaner and more respectful and loving of the earth has such momentum--and on every step of this way, poetry becomes more real to me.

What could be realer than the metaphor of wind, the spirit of the air, the cleanser and communicator, powering a place of learning and wisdom?  What I love about living right now is that the metaphors provided by such events are clear, pure, open, giving right down to the bottom and beyond.  I don't feel a need for prevarication, ambiguity, or torturous paths to access their magic.  The metaphorical power of earth, air, fire, water--nature--and our place in it-- is directly accessible to me like a spring of good water.

I learned yesterday from WOM-PO that in the language of the Dagara people of Nigeria, the words for "Art" and "Sacred" are the same.  My guess is that a spirituality centered in the earth is exactly what makes this kind of unity possible.

The Goddess Conference, the Middle School Concert, and the Coming Cosmic Convergence

 I am finally back from my many travels, catching up on things, and waiting for the photos of ASWM to come in so I can post one of the Brigid mask reading, which went beautifully. I've had so many ideas for American Witch these last extraordinarily busy few weeks that I feel as if I've been actually posting!  I will look forward to sharing them here in coming weeks.  There's one on fear, one on male support, and one on menopause, moon, and ritual.  More too, that I will probably unearth when I finish unpacking all the notes and papers.  And, I want to start a "blog reprise" series of posts, a few favorite posts on poetry from my first blog, "Confessions of a Postmodern Poetess," which is no longer available online. 
For those interested in the ASWM conference,  here's the most concise update:  a small celebratory note I sent to the ASWM website,  It's true--I've rarely if ever felt the goddess poems heard more profoundly.  No surprise there.  The event was vibrant with new

ASWM Rising!

I am so excited. I have been invited to give an opening poetry reading on the first evening of the first Conference of the Association for Study of Women and Mythology, April 23. I will be reading with the great Diane Wolkstein, whose work on Inanna has been so influential on me, and I am very excited to hear her new work about Kuan Yin, a goddess who has increasingly been entering my life of late.

In honor of this performance, which I take as a charge to use the power of rhythm and poetry invoke the energies of the goddesses into the event, I am trying to figure out how to pack and bring a special secret mask, made by Stonecoast alum, the brilliant fantasy writer and all-around creative dynamo Michaela Roessner. . . tricky because I have to take a plane to read at the Los Angeles Festival of Books immediately following!

Ostara Vibration

Wow, it's been a busy few weeks.  I've been travelling a lot for poetry events, gave the keynote poem for the launch of the Women's Poetry Timeline at the gorgeous National Museum of Women in the Arts in DC-and then spent a few days marching for peace with my mother on the eve of her 89th birthday...

But I got back in time for the annual Ostara egg hunt on the beach near our home.