“The world beneath the world” is what Dionne Brand called it, when she was here reading for Play Chthonics last fall. The world we’d live in if Columbus hadn’t sailed the ocean blue, if Lenin not Stalin, if Mao without the Cultural Revolution, if Kennedy not Nixon, without the Viet Nam war or the war…

I’m kicking myself for having missed Shirley Bear’s reading at the On Edge series last Wednesday. She’s been an important figure to me in the last few years as an elder, artist and writer. I’m looking forward to having a visit with her later this month. I’m also really looking forward to the launch for…

My long poem Eggs in the Basement is out, published as a limited edition chapbook by Nomados Press. Meredith Quartermain just came by last night with 26 lettered copies. Much appreciation to her and Peter both for being interested in it and for producing such a beautiful edition! Eggs in the Basement is an experimental,…

I’m really looking forward to teaching at the Clarion Writers’ Workshop in San Diego this summer. It’s the last week to apply. Get in there, all you talented moonbeams! I’ll be crossing the Pacific pond shortly for the Shanghai International Literary Festival. I’ll also have talks at Fu Dan University and Ningbo University. I’ve been…

I’m thrilled to have it!  Check it out here: Chroma

It was really inspiring hearing (and hosting) Dionne Brand and Rita Wong at Play Chthonics last night. It feels this week as if a world that recognizes justice, beauty and hope is re-emerging after decades of hiding underground. Upcoming on February 19 : ” Progressive Texts”– an event to launch two special issues of West…

I wonder if Father Time is a vampire. How does he march so staunchly into the future without getting tired? Mother Nature recycles. Back at work. Two courses this term, both fourth year– one on race, gender, memory and citizenship; and one on biopolitics. Paul Lai has just published a pretty cool article about Salt…

Another wash cycle done, new rough beasts waiting to be born. Much eating of poultry in this cold season. I contemplate the killing of chickens. How the one who slaughters sacrifices self to public opinion, but we all want the meat. I should learn to wield the knife. There’s the limit of my own bourgeois…