the little things, mon amour
It’s an inside joke how you say “armoire”
for “chaise”—
how you speak for the arm of a seat
like anatomy well-illustrated
in medical books you fetch
from foreign antique shops,
a habit that’s getting costly,
maybe out of hand,
but we own the armoire
as well as the chaise—
which is often an auto
corrected form of my name.
~CMH
This poem is in response to a prompt concerning mistakes and typos from "Next Line, Please" of The American Scholar.
Upcoming Event!
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| The Journey Space: A Healing Arts Center |
Here are the details:
July 12, 2:00-3:00 pm Poetry Reading & Sound Healing; 3:00-3:30 Book Signing
So delighted to be the featured poet for this episode of The WildStory podcast! My interview with Ann Wallace, who is also a poet, was a spontaneous conversation about themes and meanings of Inheritance of Flowers. Four poems from this new book are recited.
Have a listen here (poetry segment is the first thirty minutes):
On this last day of National Poetry Month, here is a glimpse of dancer-poet as performing artist. I had the pleasure of joining the cast of "The Power and the Voice of Women in Dance through the Millennia" on April 19th, directed by Karen McLane. There was narrative, and dances that women dance to heal, to celebrate, to speak in a language based on the female body and psyche.
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"Bacchanal" |
I raise a glass to all the other dancer-poets who are speaking, speaking...
And, poof! This typewriter is worn out.
This is a piece I wrote in response to a prompt from David Lehman in his column "Next Line, Please" of The American Scholar. The prompt itself is as follows: use one of five Proverbs of Hell by William Blake as your "point of departure." My choice? "The nakedness of woman is the work of God." What immediately came to mind was to flip this statement, resulting in "God is the work of nakedness of woman." Controversial? My premise is that Blake's "God" is set in a historical context which allows for interpretation. My astute fellow writers, and Lehman himself, suggest omitting the first line altogether, ultimately freeing my poem from its initial departure. Would you?
From "Next Line, Please" March 21
The first line of Charise Hoge’s “Wanting” provoked debate. Was it merely a rhetorical trick?
God is the work of nakedness of woman.
A piece of work, this god. Woman sheds
her corset, crinoline, bustle, chemise,
petticoat and drawers–so to soften god’s
vengeful manner. She cuts off her hair
and peels back her skin smooth as a grape.
She dissolves into pulp. Not even god
can find her. But wants to.
Here's the link to the column for more:
https://theamericanscholar.org/the-nakedness-of-woman/
