Thursday, May 07, 2020
Southern-born, Joy makes her home in the Boston area, with memberships in the Newton Poetry Group and the Poetry Society of Virginia. Her poems explore the many facets of life, including her and broader humanity’s place and challenges within it.
A Recombinant Tale
Horseshoe bat meets
Scanning electron microscope
pinks and blues.
mutate, roam until
human host found
to pandemic form
antibodies in you.
Wednesday, May 06, 2020
Somerville artist Jason Chase sent us this statement about himself:
"Painter, culture vulture, artist Jason Chase is an American every man. Like most of us, he was raised on a diet of TV shows and cereal. His mom managed the household while his dad brought home the bacon, and he went off to college and even did a stint in grad school. However, unlike most of us, his consumption of culture and the world around him manifested itself into some of the most peculiar visual art. But unlike the bulk of pop culture, Chase doesn’t aim to mock his suburban roots as much as explore them and his role within that realm. The results are vivid and deceptively innocuous, but never shopworn."
Tell us about your Somerville experience.
I have lived in Somerville for over 10 years. home and studio are in Spring hill. I love how Somerville just keeps getting friendlier and friendlier to the arts community. It’s a very comfortable place to create.
Our city is unique because it keeps evolving. Every year some new venue or event gets created and I love the direction it’s headed.
What are you working on?
I’m currently working on some oil paintings involving Barbie, and I’m always working on pieces that use the blackest black, Singularity black.
In the future I hope to black out a wrecked motorcycle and a wrecked car, pretty pieces and it will take a lot of work and funding to pull off. None of the pieces I’m making right now involve the pandemic, it’s only a matter of time until I make something that addresses it. It’s inevitable, my work is about my own life, and this is a new reality. I’m being cautious about forcing a piece out now though, usually a lot of bad art made about tragedies when they’re not thought out and quick like a knee jerk reaction.
Tuesday, May 05, 2020
Renuka Raghavan tends to focus on brief, dramatic prose and poetry. She is the author of Out of the Blue (Big Table Publishing, 2017) a collection of short fiction and poetry, and more recently, The Face I Desire (Nixes Mate, 2019). Renuka is a reader for Indolent Books and the Lily Poetry Review. She also serves as the fiction book reviewer at Červená Barva Press, and is a co-founder of the Poetry Sisters Collective.
More than twice recently
I’ve heard children
wanting nothing more
than to caress the bodies
of their dying parents.
These children are not young,
but their parents would still welcome
any rhythmic touch.
These children may be overwhelmed,
looking after their own,
praying to be physically present
and move their fingers
against the cheeks of their parents
in just the same way
one might stroke
the soft cheeks of a newborn
who took her first breath
surrounded in hope.
And I am reminded
of the intimacy of habit,
of how we take simple things,
like a parting touch, for granted,
of how tenderness means the most
when it is missing.
Monday, May 04, 2020
|Marie Louise St.Onge|
Marie Louise’s writing has appeared in anthologies and literary magazines across the country including Yankee Magazine, Clackamas Literary Review, Permafrost, Café Review, Balancing Act 2, and Grief Becomes You. She is the Executive Editor of Ad Hoc Monadnock – A Literary Anthology, a former editor for The Worcester Review, and a contributor to French Class: French Canadian-American Writings on Identity, Culture and Place. Marie Louise has read her poetry at universities, art and community centers, and bookstores throughout New England. Massachusetts born, she makes her home on the coast of southern Maine.
On the Thirtieth Day of Isolation (Covid-19)
Just over four weeks now, no store
no pharmacy no haircut no meetings
no movies no museum no protests
no handshakes no hugs no gym simply
solo walks along the shore. Respite indeed
when I pull in more than my share of salted air
and negative ions, listen carefully
for the dogs’ barks and the surf’s voice
rising and falling, speaking and pretty
much always uttering something
When she said she was making a
to the grocery and asked if I needed anything
I found my way to yes…I found my way to yes.
Make a list she said. Memory. Over four decades ago
my aunt, wrapped inside a world she could not
see, made lists: ½ lb. hamburger, one chicken breast,
two white potatoes, ¾ lb. green beans, one quart
orange juice, a single loaf of Wonder,
half dozen eggs, a shaker of Ajax, two rolls
of toilet paper, one Whitman’s pecan roll
and a package of English muffins. My aunt said yes.
There is a long list of things we don’t know today
and will not tonight or tomorrow or even next week.
We’re living blind. So much we’ve not learned
but now in this time of much time
may we practice…...patience compassion stamina.
In these lean days while we touch nothing
except our worries, may we be moved toward grace.
Trees persist with their bold budding, frogs are readying
their pulse, crows build nests and mares enter estrus.
Today I made a grocery list, such a plain way of baring need,
leaning in and accepting a blown kiss.