January 2012
6 posts
September 2011
2 posts
Keep going #within
An unspoken truth doesn’t cease to exist. It doesn’t disappear into the background,
It isn’t irrelevant.
It’s the frightened surface of the lightning rod, silent and waiting for the charge.
– written by me, this summer
http://maritzaruizkim.com/mrk_bloggish.html
July 2011
1 post
June 2011
3 posts
What's enough
What’s enough is what I’ve already given you, This is already more than I have, and you don’t stop Don’t stop this asking and I can’t stop this asking, And what you want is already more than I have, I can’t I can’t is what I have, and you want more of it. This is how you leave me, no I’m not yours but you take me Until you’re done, and...
May 2011
1 post
April 2011
6 posts
Duplicity. I often feel guilty of it. Truthfully, though, I don’t believe in multiple truths, but multiple understandings. I guess that’s what happens from always living on the edges of opposing points of view. «shrug»
WatchSo i thought about this project for a couple weeks… as I did this or that, it was on my mind. I mulled things over & thought about what I wanted to do or see. Then on the morning when I had the time to tape it, i pulled together items- some of them I just grabbed as I walked around. One of my favorite aspects to putting together work–whether it’s writing, painting, or this video–is...
March 2011
1 post
September 2010
10 posts
Installation shots from “WACK!” taken Fall '08-... →
work by Tillie Olsen
(I’ve loved Tillie Olsen’s work for a long time. When I was 18 I had a chance to hear her read in person- I went to the train stop, stood there, then turned around to go home before the train came. I didn’t want to be around people right then. I will always regret going home. I never saw her in person. She died in 2007.)
Excerpts from I STAND HERE IRONING, 1953-1954
I stand...
by Billy Collins
Baby Listening
According to the guest information directory,
baby listening is a service offered by this seaside hotel. Baby listening–not a baby who happens to be listening as I thought when I first checked in, Leave the receiver off the hook, the directory advises, and your infant can be monitored by the staff,
though the staff, the entry continues, cannot be held responsible for the...
by Anne Sexton
Courage
It is in the small things we see it. The child’s first step, an awesome earthquake. The first time you rode a bike, wallowing up on the sidewalk. The first spanking when your heart went on the journey all alone. When they called you crybaby or poor or fatty or crazy and made you into an alien, you drank their acid and concealed it.
Later, if you faced the death of...
by Wendell Barry
To My Mother
I was your rebellious son, do you remember? Sometimes I wonder if you do remember, so complete has your forgiveness been.
So complete has your forgiveness been I wonder sometimes if it did not precede my wrong, and I erred, safe found, within your love,
prepared ahead of me, the way home, or my bed at night, so that almost I should forgive you, who perhaps foresaw the...
by Philip Booth
First Lesson
Lie Back, daughter, let your head be tipped back in the cup of my hand. Gently, and I will hold you. Spread your arms wide, lie out on the stream and look high at the gulls. A dead- man’s-float is face down. You will dive and swim soon enough where this tidewater ebbs to the sea. Daughter, believe me, when you tire on the long thrash to your island, lie up, and...
by Tess Gallagher
I Stop Writing the Poem
to fold the clothes. No matter who lives or who dies, I’m still a woman. I’ll always have plenty to do. I bring the arms of his shirt together. Nothing can stop our tenderness. I’ll get back to the poem. I’ll get back to being a woman. But for now there’s a shirt, a giant shirt in my hands, and somewhere a small girl standing next...
a poem
We Are the Dinosaurs
Roar! – you roar and I roar– you gather your small penguin, tiny train conductor, your hot wheels track & kitty so soft (it’s played roles – from the pet you never had, to now: prey for me to devour ) all served to me on a box top, awaiting my ferocious consumption. I chew the cat. Lick my chops. Work my way down the bony limbs. But the penguin, just a lump of meat then...