tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32122675207934126832024-02-08T01:17:21.280-05:00Delirious Hemshannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17706867356078179503noreply@blogger.comBlogger551125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-30341248642478617822015-12-25T18:00:00.000-05:002015-12-25T18:00:09.979-05:00ADVENT DAY TWENTY-FIVE: Marina Blitshteyn!
prayer
don't go with a heavy heart, no, go
with sure steps, go with solace
knowing anywhere you go you are
yourself there, knowing anywhere
you go you go there knowingly, go
there knowing yourself, go there
knowing you've earned it, go there
underestimating the risk, like a new
wild animal into the wild, a wilder
version of yourself, instinctual and
calm, go DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-34012780811363801172015-12-25T17:30:00.000-05:002015-12-25T19:09:04.828-05:00DAY 25: Annie Won!
Annie Won operates at the intersections of mind, body, and spirit, more particularly as a poet, yoga teacher, and medicinal chemist in the Boston area. Her chapbooks are available from venues such as Horse Less Press (Once Upon a Building Block, 2014), Nous-Zot Press (so i can sleep, 2015) and Dusie Kollektiv (did the wind blow it, 2015)DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-86709884440927025792015-12-25T17:00:00.000-05:002015-12-25T18:53:50.768-05:00ADVENT DAY TWENTY-FIVE: NAT RAHA!
NAT RAHA is a poet and queer / trans* activist living in South London, UK. Her poetry includes '[of sirens / body & faultlines]' (Veer Books, 2015), 'radio / threat' (sociopathetic distro, 2014), countersonnets (Contraband Books, 2013) and Octet (Veer Books, 2010). She has performed her work internationally, and poems have recently appeared in Dusie, DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-81490310900656369742015-12-25T16:23:00.000-05:002015-12-25T16:23:02.811-05:00ADVENT DAY TWENTY-FIVE: MELISSA ELEFTHERION
MELISSA ELEFTHERION grew up in Brooklyn. She is the author of huminsect (dancing girl press, 2013), prism maps (dusie kollektiv, 2014), Pigtail Duty (dancing girl press, 2015), the leaves the leaves (forthcoming 2016), green glass asterisms (forthcoming 2016), and several other chapbooks and fragments. Her work has recently appeared/ is forthcoming in Entropy, LUNA LUNA, Lunch Ticket, DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-53273944363261419632015-12-25T14:00:00.000-05:002015-12-25T14:00:00.230-05:00ADVENT DAY TWENTY-FIVE: CARRIE ETTER
Askance
the bar’s red lights I glamorize, lean back in my
sat aside sauvignon blanc
the parquet flooring and Nancy Sinatra’s boots
amid the cocktails the barman’s flourish
I inhabit DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-26371533513716099162015-12-25T12:00:00.000-05:002015-12-25T12:00:10.137-05:00ADVENT DAY TWENTY-FIVE: ERIN VIRGIL!
The laboratory was a frightening place.
All over the walls: hanging white coats, safety posters, warnings.
On the long black counters: test tubes, Bunson burners, flasks, bottles, coffee cups, sample jars (water, soil, acids), Petri dishes, microscopes.
And in the corner there was an eye wash station which scared me most of all.
With a cup to put your scalded eyeball in, then DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-58291955990874334702015-12-25T07:47:00.000-05:002015-12-25T07:47:04.701-05:00ADVENT DAY TWENT-FIVE: Daniela Olszewska
IT'S ALMOST CHRISTMAS
It's almost Christmas + there's a mystery mammal in my rearview mirror.
It's almost Christmas + I am pretty sure I am late.
It's almost Christmas + we're headed towards a pinkly beaded city.
It's almost Christmas + historically, you're someone's mistress.
It's almost Christmas + ignore me if we happen to fall into the same security line.
DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-39720559058180099182015-12-25T07:30:00.000-05:002015-12-25T07:30:07.744-05:00ADVENT DAY 25: KATE GREENSTREET!!!
The Magician from Kate Greenstreet on Vimeo.
Kate Greenstreet's books are Young Tambling, The Last 4 Things, and case sensitive. Her videopoems can be viewed here.
DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-19585793050468121992015-12-25T05:00:00.001-05:002015-12-25T05:00:06.812-05:00ADVENT DAY 25: EMILY PINKERTON
For Claire, Aged Six
You smelled sweet, like whistling
prairie grass and peat loam.
Little meadow, autumn-lit,
spun sunlight hair, big brown eyes
shining bright from the chase.
You ran the turkeys back to their pen
& when I had my back turned
you bounded back for a kiss
and a hug that made joy seem easy.
EMILY PINKERTON is a technologist and poet. Previously an DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-25883062913188000952015-12-25T05:00:00.000-05:002015-12-25T05:00:18.426-05:00ADVENT DAY 25, KATE LITTERER
There I Was Unrequited
Your dooris like awar plunkedhaphazardlybetween us.It is trueand horrid,it gets inmy visionof youso tell me,don't youagree younever lookmucked up.Tell mewhat you'rereading in there,baby.I want to hearyour sweetthroat tell mewhat's onevery page.I want to hearyour train voicesurrender.You get me therelike a singlenight of rain.There arebirds out hereforever and wewill DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-82716317959812212812015-12-25T02:00:00.000-05:002015-12-25T02:00:18.592-05:00ADEVNT DAY TWENTY-FIVE: SHANNON BARBER
I am far behind
A foregone conclusion
The last leaf of fall.
The way she spoke to me
Left fire between my thighs.
I wanted and loathed her
She knew my secrets
Broke my carefully honed portrait
With a whisper and a knowing smile.
I walk in flames with my head held high.
Traceries ride the pyroclastic bounce of my hips
on night winds..
For a moment as seen
against DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-17032585961407758332015-12-25T00:00:00.000-05:002015-12-25T00:00:05.517-05:00ADVENT DAY TWENTY-FIVE: SARAH MARCUS!
Getting Ready for Christmas
Tonight, Liz and I drive home.
We are still laughing about some stupid song--
the sky is nearly pink--
she says something about how it's too late for us.
We take the wrong exit.
We take the wrong exit, again.
I roll my eyes
at the house on the right
with the ungodly light display.
Stop being so Jewish she barks,
because I am still hoarding pumpkins.
Through the DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-85736889979787718272015-12-24T06:00:00.000-05:002015-12-24T06:00:03.489-05:00ADVENT DAY TWENTY-FOUR: ASH DI PASQUALE
Mint Box #1
I am in your image
A foreign face the
form of torture
Avalanches of knives
into it
Unforgiving
fingerprints
Unconscious
excoriations
Superficial reactions
Tied empty routine
Tongue-twisting
yesterdays
Closed demolished
future
Intimate distillation
Pillows bleed
masturbation
Hands perform intimate
permissions
Mercy waltzes adultery
Paradise leaks exotic
virgins
DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-67408527317596247482015-12-23T05:11:00.000-05:002015-12-23T05:11:00.107-05:00ADVENT DAY TWENTY-THREE: EMILY CRITCHLEY
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DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-41766354376448013482015-12-22T06:00:00.000-05:002015-12-22T06:00:01.540-05:00DAY TWENTY-TWO: LISA CATTRONE
HERE’S A LETTER FOR SANTA
WHEN HE FINALLY SHAVES HIS BEARD
OR
A LITTLE SOMETHING FOR ADVENT
I want to force my body into a moss
and bang my head into the ground.
I want all the dead people
to look like tropical fish.
I want a lifetime pass
made of rabbit hair.
I want
Donald Trump to die.
I want a sheet of webs
to hover 10 inches above DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-4262625141831700202015-12-21T06:01:00.000-05:002015-12-21T06:01:00.342-05:00ADVENT DAY TWENTY-ONE: WANDA PHIPPS
Her
inspired by a film by Spike Jonze
intuitive HER
adaptive HER
helpful HER
omnipresent HER
effective HER
persuasive HER
perceptive HER
DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-46872284831929032802015-12-20T06:46:00.000-05:002015-12-20T06:46:00.145-05:00ADVENT DAY TWENTY: NICOLE MAURO IV
Be-
spectacled Clark
attended regular
meetings
at the apartment
where he remarked
and remarked
about the routines
of ordinary bi-
peds, their organs
&DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-66424994438972785032015-12-19T06:07:00.000-05:002015-12-19T07:45:23.068-05:00ADVENT DAY NINETEEN: MICHELLE DETORIE!
HEARTSLEIGHT
Whose bells chatter in the pine needles that never sing
of winter, never glitter in the shag-shuffed ice of shivers:
those long ago seasons that crawled from polar reaches
and touched our skins and glinting shelters -- tools
rising to meet sunmelt. We put on our boots and coats.
At first
all was mudmelt, mudheart. A half-moon nursing
the hare-cubs, the wolf-girls.
But DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-79483124559364875082015-12-18T06:00:00.000-05:002015-12-18T06:00:01.654-05:00ADVENT DAY EIGHTEEN: BETSY FAGIN
respect, communication, integrity, excellence
(for Sherron Watkins)
-tiny town of Optimism, population 6,000
-responsible for each other’s children
-a bite of ice cream sandwich
in the year of whistleblowers
why didn’t you just leave?
-do something right about wrong
from west coast to east
-remaking itself every seven years
innovation always
dark side of innovation is DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-47082845690272159812015-12-17T06:44:00.000-05:002015-12-17T06:44:00.377-05:00ADVENT DAY SEVENTEEN: MARIA DAMON
OUR THEME TODAY
Our theme today: Nazism.
April nooses, cruel Hitler cream.
Improvised dressage with a unicorn in jodhpurs.
Today I’m Mother’s-Birthday-fatalistic,
turn on the waterworks, I’m on fire.
Kiss my feet, Hitler youth, in all your streaming
blondness braided
nooselike
a bog-person-to-be
elaborate stitching and
all that ayahuasca in the
moors and mosses.
DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-38338369812693773152015-12-16T06:45:00.000-05:002015-12-16T06:45:00.742-05:00ADVENT DAY SIXTEEN: Eileen Tabios
From “The Gilded Age
of Kickstarters”
There Was A Company
of Flexible Dancers
69 backers
$3,834
pledged of $10,000 goal
6 days to go
Heart
Determination
Vision
Hard
work
Dedication
Belief
Passion
enervates Royal Flux Dance
Company
to take you
on a magical journey
captivating and challenging
your mind
leaving you on the edge
of your seat craving more…
<!--[if DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-52391168921482341262015-12-15T06:30:00.000-05:002015-12-15T06:30:01.428-05:00ADVENT DAY FIFTEEN: Pattie McCarthy
Pattie McCarthy’s new book is called Quiet Book & is due out in Jamuary from Apogee Press.
DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-17904042000670089912015-12-14T06:00:00.000-05:002015-12-14T06:00:05.327-05:00ADVENT DAY FOURTEEN: JESS ROWAN
11.19.15
for/after Douglas Kearney at Emergent Forms, Ashland, OR
_______________________________________
take a familiarity in hand
once i was many women
gathered in one face
once i was whole- ly un-selfed
i resemble many women
i hardly resemble myself here there the accidental name
already can imagine father abraham
one hand raised reverent faux orDUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-54675149132644274862015-12-13T06:00:00.000-05:002015-12-13T06:00:04.963-05:00ADVENT DAY THIRTEEN: Rachel May<!--[if gte mso 9]>
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DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3212267520793412683.post-66505714179457099462015-12-12T05:00:00.000-05:002015-12-12T06:00:09.266-05:00ADVENT DAY TWELVE: AMY PICKWORTH
Ripe
Barely past its prime, the fruit
is refused by the girl. Appreciate
the almost-perfect strawberry in
winter, I
chide.
Outside the temperatures are
deficits.
Cold is leaking in around the
windows
and the girl is so bored in her
lush skin.
At the sink I cut out all the
softest spots, bloodying
my hands with juice so she
doesn’t need
to put something imperfect into
DUSIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06216362537300575353noreply@blogger.com0