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Showing posts from April, 2012

Invisible Woman

“She is survived by her three sons and her partner of thirty years,” the papers said. Sometimes the braver periodicals even named her, this partner . partner? Did they own a bakery together?             A curio shop? Partner is too small a word          pedestrian          business-like. I used to like the word. And what shall we call ourselves? Lover at best is dated Girlfriend dismissive, trivial We are life partners, I would whisper in her ear, family. For this lesbian poet who risked life and art and all to name her love This warrior who did not fear the wrath of publishers or critics or scholars or college administrators To hear it now, and often without a name or gender, evokes      the closet Undrape! You are not guilty to me, nor stale, nor discarded* Nor invisible. For  Adrienne Rich and Michelle Cliff *Walt Whitman, "Song of Myself"

Returning to my place

Well, what do ya know? I wasn't sure I'd ever come  back to the old place, but I kept it around to function as an archive of my old writing. And here I am wanting to write again. And wanting to write about things that aren't necessarily photography related. So here I am. Boy howdy, it's dusty in here. I'll be sweeping out some cobwebs and changing things here and there. Let me know if there's anything I can do to make you comfortable. Would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee?