Poem #42 of 365

i asked her to open
the shrink wrap
so i could see the book
and feel it in my hands.

its heft and weight, the new
book smell.

she obliged with a smile and
i inhaled, as i've done so many
times to mark the moment, to
make it last.

what swirled around me was
Chicano talk and Dago humor
and literary mumblings, backed
up by the softest of ranchera
melodies on Santiago's accordeon.

i accepted the book when she
held it up to me, saying 'i want to
see if they spelled my name right.'

my family in Chicano letters
surrounded me as my fingers swept
across their words: poems and other
writings by La Sandra and Tonzi and
raul and Carmen and so many others
who now walked this event, cheering
and applauding for our final release.

we are made here. we have spoken
and written aqui. aqui estamos y
no nos vamos. Latino/Chicano/Tejano
verse, lyric, rhyme, and story made
by us. Hecho En Tejas.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #41 of 365

This blog sucks.
This sucks blog.
Blog this suck.
Suck this blog.
This this this.
Blog.
Blog this.
Suck this.
Suck.
This blog sucks.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #40 of 365

Such a generous Macarena:
she gave me bottled water
and a ride, as we made
our way to Austin in three hours
we found our mouths, sharing
stories, open wide.

She wouldn't let me pay ten dollars,
and i objected, but polite, i didn't
holler, we drank coffee, and she
had a pill to swallow.

I got dropped off in a parking lot,
and felt fine standing there, cuz
the car had been hot, and it was near
Andrea's pad or so i thought.
I was lost but refused to be overwrought.

In a minute, I found her door,
D'Mon and she gave me a little tour,
and she made me green tea which almost
spilled on the floor, it was chill to relax
and talk, both expressing to the core.

She gave me squash spicy soup in a flash,
and burned all the bread they'd bought for cash,
then offered oat straw from her sacred herbal stash,
after i watched them give Tree a welcome thrash.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Book launch of HECHO EN TEJAS -- party down in San Marcos!!

A wonderful new anthology of Tejano literature (essays, stories, poems, and song lyrics) is out now, thanks to a wonderful collaborative effort by the UNIVERSITY OF NEW MEXICO PRESS and the SOUTHWESTERN WRITERS COLLECTION (of Texas State University in San Marcos).

My poems “On Language” and “Mexicano Antonio” (inspired by a night of dancing at the cantina formerly known as "Recuerdos de Kansas" on Hemphill Street) are included in this historic collection.

Award-winning (PEN/Hemingway and Guggenheim Fellowship) writer and raconteur, Dagoberto Gilb, took on the role of editor in this project that began in early 2006.

You can read Dago's introduction to the book, published in its entirety in a recent issue of the TEXAS OBSERVER, here.

And--you can join us at a major book launch event on Saturday, February 10th, on the TX State U. campus in San Marcos. Sandra Cisneros, raulrsalinas, Macarena Hernandez, and a slew of other Tejano lit famosos y famosas will be there for a schedule of readings, panel discussions, keynotes, and, of course, FOOD & BEER. Plus, the incredible and legendary CONJUNTO AZTLAN (they've been together since the days of the Movimiento, no lie!) will be performing for us.

For more info on the book, visit the UNM Press website.

Comments from editor Dagoberto Gilb [written in Chicano, so read on, compas!]:

A couple of years ago, I was asked by the Southwestern Writers Collection, in San Marcos, if I would be willing to edit an anthology, with its support, of Texas Mexican Literature.

HECHO EN TEJAS will be an historic publication which will include every important Mexican American writer and poet [who has lived or worked in Texas]--around 65 in total--from as far back as...well, I include Alvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca as the first. You will certainly recognize the rest as well, but what I am most pleased with is that even to those unfamiliar with our literary estate, and especially those outside the community itself, HECHO can be read as a story. Without having to know who any particular writer is, what will emerge is the largeness of the community as it is puzzles together--through each small piece, the land and its history, the people's sorrows and joys--what has been assimilated and what cannot be.

HECHO is a fine read. Its publication will insist on being noticed and will finally overwhelm the ignorance--and by that I would emphasize the Ignore as much as the dumb or mean or nasty connotation of the word--about raza here in Texas, the people who settled and were settled and still remain in Texas, who will soon be the largest population group in the state and region. The book will also include a page each of a singer-songwriter--from Chelo to Freddy Fender, Flaco, Santiago, Selena. HECHO EN TEJAS will be an event that will have to be covered by every newspaper and magazine in the state. My hope is that even in bookstores, etc, where the Alamo and its immigrants have been the only Texas history, this book will reclaim territory.

I am very excited about this book, and I hope you will be too. HECHO will be a book that reaches every school in Texas and almost certainly beyond. I sincerely believe this book will put an end to the passive apartheid of our literary accomplishment. The book will insist on being used by professors teaching Texas or Southwestern Literature: No longer will there be any excuse for those in power to behave unaware of the intellectual and literary power and wealth that is our community.

Mil gracias, Dagoberto Gilb

Poem #39 of 365

i live my life
at the end of the tunnel
near so many colors
brilliant
to blind,
but i lack the push to
step out and out.
round walls are soothing
and that’s the tunnel
for ya.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #38 of 365

The best upgrades
are forgotten tomorrow,
so arriverderci, baby,
cuz you been sidelined
for the latest model
of the updated bimbo
or himbo--as the case
may be. It's not your
fault that the manufacturer
designed you for obsolescence,
and your tetas are downward-
spiraling. Genetic predispositions
have left you human and vulnerable
and pulsing in a wasteland of big box
showroom exposition fairs of materialism.

Go ahead, get old. Go ahead, don your
aging flesh. Go ahead, and honor your
sweat, bleed your blood. History will show
you the better make, the diehard rain-resistant
model that people feel really really good to be around.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #37 of 365

a hotbed of pulsing palms.
a refrigerator of cool kisses:
there is no predicting our coital climate
in this universe of body smother.

and if well-versed in anecdote
you must be, then i will
listen to your stories in the dark
as you whisper in every orifice,
so many portals to my heart.

i hum in relaxed overtones,
vibrating in my rudder
as the colors behind my eyelids
melt into the beginning of time.

every caress makes me feel purple
and when you squeeze,
an explosion of sparks liquefies
this body with nocturnal narratives.

leave no flesh untouched while my hair
climbs your chest and shoulders
as a vine, and the forgotten sheets
twist in braids hot as challah.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Job opening at Poetry Foundation

Cool job up in freezing Chi-town, for those with poetry backgrounds and editorial inclinations. Thanks to Bronmin Shumway for sending this notice along.

Oh, hurry, cuz the deadline's coming up FAST!!

Associate Editor wanted for POETRY magazine, the "oldest magazine devoted to verse in the English-speaking world."
More info here.

Poem #36 of 365

wigged and inauthentic
she fouled the room
with obscenities
equal to her reek.

she is prom princess
white and ill-advised
with racist costume
for Celebrate Black History week.




(in consideration of diversity celebrations
at Highland Park HS in 2006)



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #35 of 365

The translucent bubbles
in my bottle
wear precise corners
and the
smooth facets of a
precious jewel.

But never will i drink
those diadem geometries,
never shall porter diamonds
drizzle down my throat,
gems of diaphanous thirst.

But wait---my mind changes.



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #34 of 365

i am ohm-ing
in the ohm-ent
and the clock
waits on the
drying of the cement.

we wonder why the newsman
is so penile
and wraparound vanilla plain revile
and the clock
waits on the
drying of the cement.

you are shlepping in
the vain grey daytime
with a brain jackhammer on surge wine
and the clock
waits on the
drying of the cement.

she be chumming bonedaddys on
the cell phone
with a lollipop face on a brain drone
and the clock
waits on the
drying of the cement.

he like tricking razorblades on
his wet tongue
he has to swallow harmonies sullen unsung
and the clock
waits on the
drying of the cement.

and the clock
waits on the
drying of the cement.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #33 of 365

mama, say Abdullah
don't be sloppy
with his name
it's not abdoo--
that is just not the same,

mama, stop slurring
calling asians like
they're rugs
they aren't oriental--
uh, are you on drugs?

mama, don't say the
n word unless you
ready for consequences
it's time we made some
bridges instead of
building fences

mama, say a different word
and substitute a few
extra others
cuz old-time thinking
makes your mouth so crude:
you talking 'bout MY brothers.

so, mama, if you choose to
speak with those hurtin words,
please do so at least 10 steps
from me
cuz i won't be debited for your
bigotry,
and though they say the apple
never falls far from the tree,
this piece of rebel fruit
proclaims RESPECT
can help begin
to set all people free.



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #32 of 365

Snort with impunity
sneeze effervescently,
we all have allergies
either that or a cold.

We wheeze like great windfalls
and cough like choking payphones
we must be sucking on luden's
either that or a brandy.

All the snotty people are dreadfully breathing
and rubbing their nose holes with zest
we cling to our soggy old hanky
and new tissues all ready to go.

We compete like flutes in the band hall
tooting and honking like woodwinds
but our windpipes could use a deep cleaning
or a visit to that old windbag, the doctor.


(i'm deeply congested and phlegmy this week)


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #31 of 365

I didn't mind that you phoned
it's just that i was busy
with a woman and some food
having to hide her in the closet
having to chop on the cutting board.

It was great that you noticed
enough to make you curious
and when you whizzed past
this concrete block my subtle
dog had a premonition.

Please call again or let me
hear your song whittle
at the tempered solid steel
of the buttered quelling
chambers of my heart.


after a dream of R.W.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #30 of 365

i summoned you priestess (or b.c.'s friend request)

today i submitted
my latest anthology
(i published, i edited)
to a competition
on a deadline

and was rushing
through my house
to find the perfect
packaging for the
5 sample copies
i had to include.

i reached for a
box, a perfect-sized
box, which had been
on a shelf for whoknows
howlong.

i froze the moment
when i saw your name
and return address label
on the back panel.

and i kept still, noticing
the dust that had collected
on the box flap, and wondering
wondering
where you could be
why time had elapsed

since our last talk.

still thinking of you,
i inked lines from
a sharpie
across your name
your address

feeling such regret
and a sadness too

for even marking over
your name on an old
priority box
seemed an
unfriendly offense.

AND then, 6 hours hence,
i am seeing this picture
of you on my screen,
and that skirt
that recycled skirt

that been-to-Himalayas
skirt

just twists my mind in
leaps of surprise
and glee.

some things have to be
brought back again
taken off the shelf
brung back to the valleys
of reconsideration

and there
so there

you are.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #29 of 365

Throw your guts to the wind
be the life of a dewdrop
wrestle with the lawn
toss yourself about.

Why worry the witnesses
stifling their own sacred shrieks
in diaries of oblivion?

Press play on all the panels
and lift your tongue to every sip
wiggle your mind
in the mud of curiosity.

When did you give your
body to the taxidermist
stuffing you with empty pomp?

Drink to your soul's extent
so you can drive under the
influence of dreamy thoughts
with your headlight eyes.

What gain you suffer as
you exchange a life of
excruciating ecstasy
for moribund passivity.

Drink, toss, wiggle, throw
yourself a life!


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #28 of 365

"you know so much about the blues."

she pursed her lips speaking that color.

"you know so much, them blues
gonna just rub up off on you."

still, her lips needed no primping.
the color just stuck.

"one day you gonna be at the bluebird,
with them blues socking yo' ears
and you ain't gonna hear the bell
marking your time to pass"

smacking them lips, sucking some
back teeth, she made a smuglike noise.

"and all them pallbearers gonna be
wondering why they arms don't be hurtin',
it's cuz you stuck back there still
listenin' to some blues off 'n there"

she smile big now, her lips pushed
back, and red color on her teeth.

"we all gonna be laughing, say how you
missed a free ride to allelujah cuz you got
held back diggin' them beat black blues, and
the ole preacher left to pray over
an empty pine box"

her mouth all open, head throwed back
and neck wide as earth.



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #27 of 365

A metal bracelet upon your wrist
is the worst choice for advocacy
and advice. When Jesus lived upon
this soil, if indeed he ever did, i'm
sure he never counted on mass-
marketed gimmick jewelry to stir
his movement, impel his compliance.

One day you'll have a meltdown, probably
in the heat of a Texas summer, and said
bracelet will irk and scald you, seizing
you with impatient wrath and undecorous
foul-mouth obscenities. How would
Jesus cuss? How would he flip us off?

I choose to wear no mentor's emblem
upon my arm, and no acronyms
of self-righteousness emblazon
my fashion accessories. I simply have
two simple symbols at hand, subtle
on my tabletop tonight:

a gilded decal of a green Ganesh
and a photostat of Cornel West.
West-Ganesh, they check my shit.
A radical scholar and a beloved
Hindu god, they keep me on point.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #26 of 365

When your eyes are sanpaku
i want to order more migas
make sure you fill your belly
and mostly i want you to face
down, upon the plate, so i
don't have to be frightened by
your stare,

And what it has to say. You
were only in for 10 hours, and
it was small bail we had to pay,
yet your irises float in that
alarming way i've seen in the
eyes of the most disturbed men
among us.

If you might choose to do a handstand,
tumble down the levee at the park, perhaps
your eyes would reset themselves, and
your woeful thoughts would be turned right,
so you wouldn't have to be so frantic
in your psychic layers and i could
let go of the tablecloth at breakfast.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #25 of 365

Prostitutes arguing about love in jail
is about as poignant

as

T kicking S in the head
to protest escalations in violence

is credible.




(with a nod to Hal Hartley and our sordid, sooted past)



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #24 of 365

random stacks
invade my house:
treatises, how-to handouts,
handbills, and just bills.

the paper ephemera
of my adult existence.

who knew that so many
news clippings could
take up so much room,
and my only solution
seems to be to
just stop reading.

all this information
just floors me.

with dust and cat hair all around.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #23 of 365

Serena sat on her
fecal impaction
in the other
room whilst i
sudsed dishes
in another.

Sobbing boo hoos were heard
over the tv screams
and i didn't even
rivet my spine.

Though i did cock
my head a bit for
enhanced audio definition.

Another client came
to verify. She's okay,
but you better walk over
there anyway, or she might
not ever cut out her crying.

Okay, what's wrong, Serena?
That house, burning on the
tv, makes me remember the
house I lived in when we
was little. Through
yellow wet eyes she said this.

A minute later, my hands
are dipped in the sink,
and she's screaming with
laughter about a joke
over a cigarette or the tv
story and whatever else has
gotten tangled up in the
eaves of her mind.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #22 of 365

When she breathed
into her sacrum
there was a scorch
under her,
a chair that squeaked
in the room
drawing fast attention

But she breathed once
more and turned her
head for accents
in the inhalation
as she watched the
shadow
exceed the animal

Ah, she intervened
how can i be panting
atop a clockface when
so many underfoot
furried things
are darkening my walk:

Go to the light, breathe
in like butane, follow
the flame, and all will
be made right.

Facile nonsense, a pithy
remedy of syllables never
cured a cancer. how can
you begin to believe that
ranting run-on
sentences can tithe
a tidy mortal sum?

I give up, i won’t breathe,
if that helps you come to
mind, but lung alert
on suffering can one day
sound the dawn.

OH, YAWN.

(a 4-minute poem)


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #21 of 365

B spoke of Eve and evil
and gave us an apple
each.

I circled the table
before reciting
making sure the
wine was out of reach.

Layne wore her
dress split open
for effect or for
expanded waist.

The food looked
brilliant laid all
out, yet i chose
to have no taste.

S set up the slides
to show, her drawings
took nine years.

The women all
assembled there,
well, some were moved
to tears.

The few bold men who
deigned come in
had luck if they were single,

For as a sweet minority
that night
enjoyed the mingle.

J himself was swarmed by
girls as his smile put them
at ease,

He drank no wine, nor
spun no tales, but the
ladies he did please.

We sang for love, and cried
for rights, and justice mercy too.

This Saturday soiree for grrls
did more than benefit a few.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #20 of 365

War-Bungled Anthem
(to the tune of the Star-Spangled Banner)

O say can you sing
such a difficult song

for the words to it now
are so devoid of meaning

if you think about it
it’s an unusual song

for the words make no sense
cuz a drunkard he wrote them

and you want to believe
this song reflects our lives
but the truth stares us down
cuz hypocrisy’s gleaming

o someday
they’ll find out
that
war is
not so noble

and the citizens will rise
to sing
of peace
soon.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #19 of 365

I called his name
twice aloud,
and his classmates
offered explanation.

He is always late.
He never comes on time.

When he finally slouches
in, bypassing me with
a stride of expectant
confidence,

I call him to my table,
insist on proprieties,
look into his eyes,
and he returns the respect.

I count him present,
give him a chance,
as he brings a chair
away from the others
to sit near me.

When it's time to do
work, I tell him to
distribute the papers,
which he does with
a relaxed smile,

He says, I've never been
asked to do this before.
And I let it slide, opt
not to share a favored quote *

with this
discarded boy
who just minutes before
was labeled gangster, bad.



* "Every human being is worth more than the worst thing they ever did." - Sister Helen Prejean, anti-death penalty activist and author, DEAD MAN WALKING.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #18 of 365

A week of watching wig films,
those charming Brit flicks
from archaic times,
along with hearing
so many proper English
quiply elegant
acceptance speeches
on Golden Globes night

inspires me to squat
too long
uncomfortably
in the mega-book mart
reading article
upon article
about Martin Amis
in publications
about
publications.

Quite so.



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #17 of 365

When the bit of Grace
on the table
splays out and wide

it is imperative
to speak a prayer
a beseeching psalm,
a promise tryst.

When the bite of Grace
on my hand
brings blood to bear

it is insolence
to complain my cries
a simpering sob
a plaintive mist.

Why bite back
and spew my rage
and drag all manner
of backs to fore.

Why indeed
should I implore
redress and recompense
of lost to me.



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #16 of 365

you prefer to confront
and i like to whisper
into the conch of their mind

you prefer to hammer
and i do the tapping
as finger on heart

you prefer to threaten
and i give them words
on a forgiveness receipt

how we fight our battles
how we storm our love



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #15 of 365

America showed up onstage
the audience applauded
and the women wept

We want America to win
to persevere, to grow
and be proud of herself

It has been a long time
coming for America;
she hasn't always
been so supported.

America, she won
the Golden Globe
for best actress
in a tv comedy series.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #14 of 365

(water)
heavy when
frozen
is
more
heavy
than
my
tears
when
they're
hot

though
it always
seems
that they
drag
my
face
down
when
they
bloom
from
my
eyes

pulled
down
as
the
ice-dappled
branches
crying
outside
in
the
yard


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #13 of 365

what god giveth, the
web taketh away, as
he wiped chardonnay
frm his chin again.

so, oh, you against
the premise of open source

he interrupted with
unscheduled burp, no,
theoretically, i'm not.
i mean, it's a good,
good samaritan,
level the playing field
type of worthwhile thing
to be after.

so, huh, you are
for it but yet not or

he doesn't let her finish
a sentence, as he takes
her elbow by the elbow
and spoke
i don't mind sharing
i just don't want the whole
wide world knowing that
i shared

with that
in tiptoe quiet steps
they left the bedroom
and moved back into
the din of the den
of the party



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #12 of 365

In the drizzly lunch hour,
i spill don't-get-lost crumbs
on the streets as i curl
and curve away from
yet another public school.

I am in pursuit of a meal,
a noontime challenge
that has me regretting
my lack of good planning,
with homemade snacks
and healthy grub.

A man stands in the parking
lot, opens a door to a truck
by mistake. Wonder if he
waits for a ride or a fix,
the connection to wealth
or a nod.

I wish he would ask me a
question, put me on the
spot with a quip. But
he just stands there,
waiting, without umbrella
or money or song.



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #11 of 365

I asked her to tell me her challenge.
She was starting an essay.

I want to be a lawyer.
I have a history with the police.

She is 13.

What is your history with the police?

My father, he's been in jail, in and out, a lot.

So you miss him, it hurts to be without him.
Is that your challenge?

No, he doesn't care about me. He left us
a long time ago. He doesn't give me anything.
I just want to help people, and kids, so they
won't have to hurt like I did.

So you actually want to help people.
That's your challenge.

Yes, that's why I am going to be a lawyer.
I'm good at arguing.



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #10 of 365

i am the bull in the ring, snorting nostrils, scuffing hooves,
i am as unbloodthirsty hyena, all chuckle and no bite:

awaiting the call, your merciful summons.

will you ask me to dance
even choreograph the dance?
will you ask me to teach
or to learn how to learn?

here i am, muscled and awaiting,
nourished on love muffins and wine,
i am as ready as you'll ever find

astounding recall, my memory beckons.

will you invite me to tea
or to plan the ceremony?
will you lay out red carpet
or have me show you the weave?

here am i, sipping good hope*,
divining wednesday's footsteps,
i am eager to walk to the stars

amazing freefall, my arms blossom alive


* Good Hope is also the brand name for a tea---today's flavor was vanilla.



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #9 of 365

I stepped onto my front stoop
and voices called to me
from a porch on the other side:

"Is this your cat? It's friendly!"

I paused my thinking, squinted
at the fur in the distance, and
they offered, "It's wearing a collar."

No, my cat wears no collar, i told
them, and swinging my gaze to
the north down the street, i noticed
two hens pecking away.

"Are those your chickens!?"

Those are vultures, there are three,
my neighbors explained.
And, to my amazement, i peeled
my eyes better and indeed saw
carnivorous birds on the street.

Doggedly, they worked at fresh carcass,
the small furry corpus of a black alley cat.
When an auto swooped down their way,
they took flight, showing wingspans of
at least my own height.

They flew around, encircling this historic
barrio, casting elongated shadows upon
rooftops, sidewalks, smaller animals.

I twitched a little, braced myself on the
neighbor’s porch, wondering what coat of
symbolic meaning to paint upon this sight.
Carnivorous birds upon my street,
making banquet in destruction.

There are two empty holes a little further down,
and the disembowelment happens largely at
night. There used to be houses where
the big holes gape, pecked and disappeared
by unflinching machines. My little barrio is getting
its body devoured and the ones who make this happen
do not meet my eyes with theirs. I do not know how to
stop them, arrest their shadows darkening my ‘hood.

Twice, I tried to photograph the vultures
as they flew over the house across the street,
but their paths were jagged, unpredictable.
Developers and destroyers, urban and
unaccountable, become singleminded
when those of us below are afraid even in the light of day.



[We need more paved lots, yah, right. We need high-density, upper-income housing, oh, really. Will the barrio survive?]



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #8 of 365

Flounder is a fish and a verb.
Myspace is selfish and wordy.
Rockfish gives shellfish for free.

Confirm all of this online.



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #7 of 365

i.
my father cups his chin
to reassure that it's there

ii.
i cannot read that sign from a distance
but car flow shows how to go

iii.
a blind grandfather stood on the porch
and warned his boy about the tree

iv.
could sense air pressure shifts and
currents of wind

v.
so how could my father walk
into a parking meter outside the National Shrine

vi.
wasn't he a praying man?


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #6 of 365

I got spit on twice tonight:
Gabriela excitedly rejected by the Altoids tin
and then, later, Ricardo making mirth across
the Embargo mesa.
G's baby soon coming home to roost
and R's used as a pawn in an icky divorce.
Two things they have in common,
but they will never know:
beloved girl daughters and spraying while sayin'.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

I have the best friends in the world

I have come to see the gift in good friends. Over the years, I have traveled, relocated, migrated to various places (Balto-D.C., Austin, Santa Fe, Boulder, Aspen, Nepal), reinventing myself each time--revealing yet another layer of self, inspiration, ambition, acceptance. So, as I've been anchoring myself here in FW (7 years now--wow), there has been a turnabout of sorts. I get to be the harbor, the open door, welcome mat, and friendly porch. Friends, fellow artists and travelers, sometimes stop in--without notice in some cases. When this happens, it is a blessing, better than Chippendale dancers at the door with fistfuls of candy and flowers.

On Thursday night, I was working quietly at home, when the phone rang. Hello, a call from Patrisia Gonzales--writer, columnist, Ph.D candidate at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, and fellow Chicana Texas girl, who went to the same Catholic school with me back in the 70s. She and life partner, Roberto--who also pens COLUMN OF THE AMERICAS, a syndicated column of politics, post-colonialism, indigenous healing and arts and other fortifying flavors, were on their way to stop in for a visit. Mere blocks from my house, and heading back to Wisconsin very soon. Of course, yes, come over, hang up so I can straighten up a little before you get here.

And so, here they were, in my humble bungalow (the local realtors' term of choice to describe small houses, circa 1920s, such as mine). Patrisia and Roberto on the sofa, checking in with me, my life, and offering stories of their recent efforts. Being "ABD" or "all but dead", as Roberto put it. They are on the job hunt now, and will be traveling around for interviews here and there. Paty herself has made it to a final selection process with a university in Toronto; if hired, she'd be teaching in the school's department of "Indigenous Healing." A perfect match for both her spiritual and scholarly interests, I'd say. She and Roberto aren't sure, however, that they're willing to become tenured "frozen academes" in Canada, particularly since they've been dealing with heavy, long Wisconsin winters for about three years now.
(Patrisia and Roberto suited up for a promo foto.)

The visit was brief, as Roberto was melting into the sofa from exhaustion and they had a long drive back to Paty's parents' home in Johnson County. It ended all too soon, and we quickly scurried for a gift exchange. I presented them with hand-made candles and a picture of my September '06 butoh performance, and Paty ran out to the car to bring back a copy of Robbie Robertson's 1998 release "Contact from the Underworld of Redboy." Cool, Robbie's been attuning to his indigenous roots (his mother's of Mohawk descent), and I've heard that he works with singers like Ulali and Joanne Shenandoah. According to a Rolling Stone critic, "...all the diverse aspects on 'Contact From the Underworld of Red Boy' cohere into a compelling whole, a national chronicle of glory and shame, a personal story ringing with conviction."

In 2007, I hope that more of my traveling and worldly comrades and colleagues have a moment to stop by my bungalow and share some tea, conversation, and hugs of amistad. So may it happen.

Poem #5 of 365

She move the ladybug
unseasonable friend
from the recycling bin

She move the auto
unseasonably warm
into january shade

She move like water

"Water stops at the proper time,
and moves at the proper time.
Is not this an emblem of the course
of the superior man
in dealing with danger?" *

and the bath drain is still clogged.


* quote from Liang Yin as appears in I CHING: THE CHINESE BOOK OF CHANGES
(Legge/Waltham interpretation, circa 1969)


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #4 of 365

omigod this hasn’t been done
it was only a dream
get up get up
answer the phone
a message awaits
the cat is to feed
the voicestra sings
i must join the y
and the t
and the a
and the m to the two
she yodels inside
-and vicki won't mind-
her ribcage expands
ideas have woken me up



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #3 of 365

I have fotos for Nata
and Juana Molina for Rupert,
that is the reason for Black Dog
on a Tuesday.

There are poets on mic
and 2 birthdays on the loose,
that is why i hug Rose Ann
and sip whiskey with Ron.

G brings an apology,
his hand easily finds mine,
that is why i will stage-sing
while he plays the guitar.

K wears a gift hat, and
asks for some insight,
that is why the room fades
and her cries become mine.

I drift to the bartop,
to lean and to buy,
that is how i meet Michael
and learn more about wine.

The bus is parked outside, and
it's covered with art,
that is why i am smiling
with non-Mexican boys.

-- about the first Black Dog poetry night of 2007



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #2 of 365

Resolving

i must not watch late-night tv.
i must not avoid exercise.

i must write more.
i must listen harder.

i watch late-night tv.
i avoid exercise.

must i write more.
must i listen harder.

Dissolving



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #1 of 365

Deck the halls
with M's sweaty balls,
he converses with fists
and bawdy epithets.

Ms. D stirs the stews
and proffers smoke,
she glistens with lipgloss
and ladylike endeavors.

S.S. poured three bowls
and slurped 'em up,
he puffens with menudo
and leaves for his bed.

Ms. T burst open a new year
with couscous for all,
she curls on the couch
and shares mash-ups with D.



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Spillway Sonata - what it was

2007 SLINGSHOT ORGANIZERS now on sale in FW

2007 Slingshot Organizer mixed colours, 1/4 size, paperback, 160 pages (6 oz) - $6.00
2007 Slingshot Organizer, large size (10 oz) - mixed colors, 1/2 size, glossy cover, spiral bound - $10.00

Geez, you don't have one of these yet?!?! It's a handy calendar and day planner, a zinester's best friend! Plan your days, one at a time, with plenty of room to scrawl notes on a calendar that will fit in your pocket. Includes space to write your phone numbers, a contact list of radical leftist groups around the globe, a menstrual calendar, info on police repression, extra note pages, and much more.

Not only is it the coolest thing to carry around in your tote bag, but it's also an informative guide to the People's History of the World. Includes popular activist and alternative cultural holidays and important protests as well as historical landmarks.

This organizer is sold as a fundraiser for SLINGSHOT, the radical newspaper from Berkeley. A small percentage of all sales here in FW will go towards supporting the 1919 Hemphill Community Space.

WHERE can you buy your 2007 SLINGSHOT ORGANIZER?!?!

1. At the SPIRAL DINER, the popular vegan eatery on Magnolia Street,

or just

2. Phone Cri ('Cree") at 817.966.0669, and he'll make sure one gets to you.

It'll make a NIFTY Chinese New Year's giftie. Cash only, please.

Call for submissions: UNDER WHAT BANDERA? (2nd edition)

Red CalacArts Publications is seeking poetry submissions about experiences and encounters with migration and crossing borders for their second edition of the chapbook UNDER WHAT BANDERA?

This San Diego-based publication is a literary project of the Red CalacArts Collective (RCAC). This collective, a project of Calaca Press, is a not-for-profit multidisciplinary arts and activist organization that focuses on creating, publishing, producing, and presenting Chicano, Latin American and indigenous related art focusing on issues dealing with human rights and social justice.

We are asking interested writers to please submit a maximum of 2 poems, limited to 2 pages total, by January 3, 2007. We are looking for original work, which has not been previously published in a book. Material which has been posted on the internet is acceptable.

Email your piece(s) and a short biography of yourself (third person, 100 word max) within the text message to ofrendas@cox.net. (Email attachments in any form will not be read.)

Poets whose work is chosen for the chapbook will retain copyright after publication and will receive ten free copies of the final product. Some selected poems will also be posted on the Red CalacArts Collective website.

The previous chapbook, UNDER WHAT BANDERA? ANTI-WAR OFRENDAS FROM MINNESOTA Y CALIFAS, was a response from a tragically-affected Latino community to the illegal occupation of Iraq by U.S. forces. This project was a collaboration between the RCAC and the Minnesota-based Palabrer@s. Ten poets were featured in this award-winning chapbook (Bookstore of the Americas Book of the Year, 2003), which was edited by Emmanuel Ortiz, Olga A. García, and Lorena E. Duarte Q.

For more information about the Red CalacArts Collective, their publications and events, go here or email them at RedCalacArts@cox.net.

MY FORT WORTH: Alternative Holiday Bazaar in FW - Saturday & Sunday ONLY!

[If you have to shop, this is the way to do it without losing your soul. This bazaar features alot of "crafts and merchandise" that you won't be able to find easily anywhere else. You don't have to get mauled at the mall when you can spend your money in an environment that is laidback and human-scale. Recommended.]


15th Annual Alternative Holiday Bazaar
DECEMBER 2nd and 3rd - Saturday & Sunday only!

Where: First Jefferson Universalist Unitarian Church
1959 Sandy Lane, 76112 (mapsco 66-Y)

Time: 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. Saturday AND 12 noon to 3 p.m. Sunday

Enjoy good food, good drink and good conversation with progressive-minded folks.

SPONSORS:
Tarrant Area Community of Churches
Peace Action Tarrant County
Fort Worth Friends Meeting (Quakers)
Fort Worth Vegetarian Society

VENDORS:
Heifer Project
Colores del Pueblo
Tx Cure
Miracles in Action
Peace Farm
Educate the Children
Refugee Services of Texas, Inc.
Iraq Vets for Peace
Code Pink
Unitarian World service
Sierra Club
Amnesty International
Tarrant Coalition for Environmental Awareness
Crawford Peace House
First Jefferson Craft Guild

(For sale will also be offered crafts by artisans of South America and the Pacific Rim, the Middle East, Africa and Vietnam.)

***All proceeeds go to organizations & projects that support human dignity and care for the earth.***

Get out of the car

Last Monday, I stepped off the porch steps and onto the sidewalk to chill with my cat in the morning sunlight. Immediately enthralled by the touch of the early breezes, I inhaled the possibility of doing something so unlikely as this: running errands by walking. I needed to go downtown for a coupla different things, and I prefer to bunch up my chores so I only have to run the car in one general direction and accomplish multi-things at a time. What's that permaculture aphorism? Protracted thought leads to minimized labor and energy waste. (Actually, since I took the time to look it up, it's this: "...protracted and thoughtful observation rather than protracted and thoughtless labor...")

So, anyway, I had a handful of things to accomplish downtown and had about five hours to get 'em done. Why not walk today, I asked myself.

I started out from my hood (Fairmount neighborhood) and headed north, arriving downtown (City Hall) in about 45 minutes. The temperature was perfect and the only discomfort I felt was some slight pain in my lower back and right foot (broken toe). Overall, I was buoyant. I felt like walking the distance it would have taken me 8 minutes to drive and accomplishing the chores in 2 hours rather than 30 minutes did not deplete me or compromise my schedule. With a conscious choice, I opted to slow down my day--and yes, I didn't get as much done as on a typical day--and gained so much the improved attitude and overall depth charge that I had long needed.

It's gorgeous today, give it a go. Give your feet the green light. Let the car rest for a minute.

I'm heading out now to cruise the neighborhood with my friend Carol. Feet a-walking, mouths a-talking.

In case you need information to get inspiration....

SUNDAY: "The Other Side" screens after FINAL performance of BOXCAR in FW

If you haven't seen BOXCAR (written by Silvia Gonzalez S. and directed by FW-er Rob Bosquez), you have only ONE weekend left to do so.

"Inspired by the 1987 tragedy in which 18 bodies and one survivor were found in a sealed boxcar in Texas, Gonzalez's play tells the story of six Mexican men and a teen from El Salvador as they try to cross the border looking for a better life in the U.S."

SPECIAL to the FINAL SUNDAY MATINEE PERFORMANCE:

F * R * E * E Screening of an experimental film by Lubbock-born
filmmaker Bill Brown, which focuses on the land & politics of the U.S./Mexico border.


“The Other Side” by Bill Brown
43 min., 16mm print



EVEN if you cannot make it to see BOXCAR, come to this free screening of "The Other Side"!



SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 19 - 4PM - ROSE MARINE THEATER
1440 N. Main St., Fort Worth

“The desert that marks the border between the U.S. and Mexico is the subject of Bill Brown’s deeply personal reflection on and exposé of the challenges surrounding Mexican immigration. Pensive, raw, and luminous images construct a montage of a land where immigrants leave traces of their struggles and hopes. Traveling along these same paths, Brown shows us “where the idea of America is up for grabs” and explores the vicissitudes of the politics and activism behind U.S. immigration policies. We ride in the cars of activists protecting the rights of migrants, set up water stations, listen to the tales of crossing attempts, learn the history of the land, and watch the shadows creep across the fixtures of life isolated in the desert.”
–Harlie Dover, Brooklyn Underground Film Festival

Bill Brown makes movies about ghosts that masquerade as movies about landscapes–or maybe it’s the other way around. His films include Roswell, Hub City, Confederation Park, Buffalo Common, Mountain State, and The Other Side. In 2003, the Museum of Modern Art screened a retrospective of his work as part of its MediaScope series.

un SPLASH de ARTE con tu shot of tequila...?

I'll be showcasing a crazy new piece onstage...
with guest performers Wendy y Miguel..surprise, surprise!

payday this wednesday...

"There's no money in poetry,
but there's no poetry in money, either."
-Robert Graves


The Poor Poet by Carl Spitzweg (1839)

Papers of la Gloria Anzaldua -- Opening and Commemoration

[Thanks to fellow Macondista Jackie Cuevas for sending along this reminder about Anzaldua's papers being acquired by the Benson Latin American Collection at UT-Austin. It's great that Anzaldua's collected writings/scholarly work is going to stay in Tejas, her birthland.]

The public is cordially invited to attend a program and exhibit commemorating the opening of the Gloria Anzaldúa Papers, recently acquired by the Nettie Lee Benson Latin American Collection (at the University of Texas at Austin).

Thursday, November 2, 2006, 5:00 to 7:00 p.m. at the Nettie Lee Benson Latin American Collection. (Next to the LBJ Library on UT-campus.) A reception will follow.
Please call 512-495-4521 if you plan to attend, or email your RSVP to: ma.rodriguez@mail.utexas.edu.

You can find more info about the Gloria Anzaldúa Papers online.

Gloria Anzaldúa! Presente!

after ofrenda night for Devin

[from Wendy - October 11th, 2006]

Hey Tammy,
How were things at Hemphill Mon? I seriously couldn't believe it. I never look at my bulletins and I happened to see the bulletin that you had posted, but for some reason I thought it wasn't literal. This week has been so emotionally insane.

I went to all the sites that you listed and smiled at her smiles along with tears.
I went and got some seeds to plant around the front yard in honor of her. They are Icelandic Poppies. Since I couldn't make it to the Hemphill memorial, I decided I'd do my own.

What happened, if you don't mind me asking? How? I'm so confused.
Well, I just wanted you to know that I sent loving memories that way.
Hope all is well with you, Tammy.

I love you,
Wendy

I'm teaching an all-day poetry intensive on Sat., October 21st - Dallas

UNLEASHING YOUR POETRY FOR THE MIC
Performance & Poetry Intensive with Tammy Gomez


Yes, you now have the opportunity to sign up for an all-day workshop with spoken word artist Tammy Gomez. Sponsored by the Writer's Garret--a literary arts organization based in Dallas--, this workshop will allow Tammy to share the strategies and exercises that have helped her more confidently and successfully present her original poetry onstage.

Each participant in this poetry intensive will be asked to bring selected pieces of their original writing, which will then be adapted for a performative presentation. Video documentation, vocal and editing exercises, and demonstrations of award-winning spoken word artists (on cd and dvd) will be included as part of the workshop.

Taking your poetry from the page to the stage can be fun, but it can also help your work gain a new audience in venues beyond the coffeehouse circuit.


WHAT: PERFORMANCE AND POETRY INTENSIVE WITH TAMMY GOMEZ

WHEN: Saturday, Oct. 21, 2006 - 10 am - 4 pm

WHERE: Upstairs at Paperbacks Plus Bookstore - 6115 La Vista Drive - Dallas, 75214

COST: $90 Members / $105 Others ($15 Early Bird Discount extended.)

WHO TO CONTACT: Grace Kenney of the The Writer's Garret

BY EMAIL: gen@writersgarret.org
BY PHONE: 214-828-1715
ON THE WEB: www.writersgarret.org

TAMMY GOMEZ is an award-winning performance poet and writer, whose essays and poetry have been anthologized in many publications including TERRA FIRMA (Agave Noir Press), CONJUNCTIONS (Bard College, NY), CANTOS AL SEXTO SOL (Wings Press), and the forthcoming HECHO EN TEJAS (University of New Mexico Press). She is profiled in LAS TEJANAS: 300 YEARS OF HISTORY (University of Texas Press) and received the Austin Chronicle Critics' Choice distinction as the "Best In-Your-Face Poet" in 1994.

As founder/publisher of Tejana Tongue Press, Tammy has published two anthologies: YONIVERSE: In a Loud Kitchen (Austin, 1998) and NORTH TEXAS NERUDA LOVE: poems, testimonios, tributes in honor of Pablo Neruda (2006).

She has performed in over twenty U.S. cities, including Madison, Denver, San Jose, Berkeley, and Laredo. At times, she has performed with musicians and other artists in collaborative contexts that has established her work as cutting edge, provocative, and unforgettable.

Tammy currently works with youth in an afterschool arts program, and is happy to announce that she has recently been awarded a 2006-2007 NALAC (National Association of Latino Arts & Culture) Artist Production Grant--in support of her spoken word theater production of "SHE: Bike/Spoke/Love", an original script.

"Art creates new thought structures" or so says Jerry Saltz

Interesting recent article in the Village Voice, brought to my attention by Cinque Hicks at BARE AND BITTER SLEEP...

Here's one of the best quotes from this Jerry Saltz article, which you can read in its entirety here:

Imagine calling two pets, one a dog, the other a cat. Asking a dog to do something is an amazing experience. You say, "Come here, Fido," and Fido looks up, pads over, puts his head in your lap, and wags his tail. You've had a direct communication with another species; you and Fido are sharing a common, fairly literal language. Now imagine saying, "Come here, Snowflake" to the cat. Snowflake might glance over, walk to a nearby table, rub it, lie down, and look at you. There's nothing direct about this. Yet something gigantic and very much like art has happened. The cat has placed a third object between you and itself. In order to understand the cat you have to be able to grasp this nonlinear, indirect, holistic, circuitous communication. In short, art is a cat.

CELEBRATE the life & times of Devin "Autonomy Star" Adams - today!!

On Monday, October 9th, many of us will be celebrating the life and memory
of Devin Adams at 1919 Hemphill. It's a potluck performance
art painting party and commemoration. We're inviting folks to share:
food/drink, songs, poetry, art, candles, flowers, and whatever else reminds
you lovingly of our special friend.

WHEN: MONDAY, OCTOBER 9th

WHERE: 1919 HEMPHILL ST. (you may park across the street in the
laundromat parking lot)

WHAT TIME: 4pm - seedpaper-making (handmade paper with seeds
embedded in it, which can then be inscribed with messages
to honor Devin, and later planted anywhere you like.

5pm - altar-building (bring candles, flowers, art, handmade
decorations, colorful fabric, etc., with which to decorate this
tribute altar for Devin).

7pm - potluck (bring food/drink!), screening of video of Devin
in performance, and communal celebration of her life with song,
poetry, storytelling, and art.

QUESTIONS: Please phone Cri at 817.966.0669. Ramsey at 682.556.0553.
Tammy at 817.924.9188.



___Folks are paying Devin tribute online at:___

http://www.myspace.com/for_devin

http://1919hemphill.org/devinadams

http://www.flaycreechphotography.com/Devin.html

http://xxcommunicator.blogspot.com



please spread the word to anyone who knew Devin Adams--
she truly was our
Fort Worth, Texas;
Lincoln, Nebraska;
Keene, Texas;
and California
"AUTONOMY STAR"!!

Tonight: Friday, Oct. 6th - events & happenings

Translator, poet, sometime singer, and sweet soul Gabriela L sent word about the second Velton Hayworth-organized art show and pachanga, to be held at his studio tonight from 5-11pm. Last year's inaugural "Fall Showcase" was pretty happening with downtempo dj music, cash bar, professional salon styling of models' hair (performance art?), and great work by regional artists in a multitude of formats and dimensions. (Last year's artistic highlights included work by Maria Patino and Elizabeth Amaro.)

This year's event will feature a live set (at 6pm!) by SLEEPLAB, who could be dubbed Fort Worth's answer to the musicians of the BUENA VISTA SOCIAL CLUB but that's a kinda lazy comparison, cuz the SLEEPLAB is definitely a multi-flavor.

Okay, summing it up: THE 2nd Annual Fall Showcase (art opening and music party), 5-11pm. Located in a warehouse on a quiet, dark back street: 2800 Shamrock Ave. Suite G. Admission cost raises funds that will go to MEALS ON WHEELS. For more information (and some nice color repros of the art to be shown) click here.

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Okay, here's the freebie in town tonight. The Hispanic Women's Network of Texas--Fort Worth Chapter is hosting a Latina art exhibit, which opens at the Rose Marine Theater art gallery (Galeria de la Rosa) from 6-9pm.

Local Latina artists' work will be displayed, reception refreshments will be served, and a silent auction will ensue. (Proceeds from the silent auction will go to the Hispanic Women’s Network-Fort Worth Scholarship Fund.

The short-and-sweet:
HWNT Celebrates Latina Art 2006.
6-9pm. FREE.
1440 N. Main St. - Rose Marine Theater - Galeria de la Rosa

For even more info: HISPANIC WOMEN'S NETWORK OF TEXAS-FW.

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In my world, I can only justify PLAY if i've completed at least a little WORK. And in the activist realm, our impact and progress is directly proportional to the amount of PLAY we can mix in WITH the WORK. Employing humor and festive antics to speak a message and direct an action can do wonders for social justice revolutionary momentum, not to mention the good it can do for committed activistas. I think bitter, bile-infested activists (regardless of where they live on the political continuum) are BORING and TOXIC.

Speaking of TOXIC, there's some unbreathable air in these parts--North Texas is what i mean. The upstarts addressing this big concern are the DOWNWINDERS, a regional activist group with designs on raking gubernatorial incumbent Rick Perry over the coals (pun intended) because of his continuing love affair with polluting energy industries.

So, tonight, at 6pm, in downtown Dallas (near Houston & Young, not even a block from the TRE train stop), you can see the DOWNWINDERS' huge 3-d caricature of Governor Rick Perry affectionately smooching a smoke stack. It's mounted on a hay trailer directly from Midlothian. It's big. It's funny. And Perry the Pollution Lover might actually see himself in effigy tonight as he is scheduled to debate the other three major gubernatorial candidates at the Channel 8 studios at 606 Young Street--next door to the Dallas Morning News building.

That's only part of the story. After Friday, the DOWNWINDERS are taking "Smoke Stack Ricky" on the road, shadowing Gov. Perry on the campaign trail from now until Election Day. (And if you're interested in helping them keep "Smoke Stack Ricky" hot on Perry's campaign trail, the Downwinders need volunteers asap.)

Here's what the DOWNWINDERS have to say about Perry on clean air: "Time and again, Governor Perry has gone out of his way to protect the oldest, dirtiest smoke stacks in DFW - the circa 1960 "wet kilns" of the the Midlothian cement plants. Now, with a new clean air plan being written by Perry appointees for DFW, it's important that these industrial clunkers either be modernized or replaced. No more special treatment, no more grandfathering, no more exemptions. Yet, Perry seems determined to keep them up and running as they are - with only the rudimentary pollution controls they had when they first opened decades ago. And remember--four of these wet kilns still burn hazardous waste at TXI."

You can reach the DOWNWINDERS by phone at 214/912-2093 and 806/787-6567 or read more at the DFW AIR PLAN website.

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Identify your GOALS, Make your PLAN, Strategize with ALLIES, Work 'til it WORKS, then PARTY your LOVE !

i'm hearing your pain, your curiosity...

...and will be offering updates concerning Devin, our dear & beloved friend and magical artist of light and sound. A mutual friend, Machete, will be going through alot of Devin's journals and other creative musings, and--rest assured--i will encourage Machete to make some of these available to you so you may know Devin's words and work.

I myself had the fortune and destiny to be able to collaborate with Devin in performance a number of times, and because i am now learning the value of documentation of improvisational work and art, i actually VIDEOtaped some of our/her recent shows. In these videos, Devin is singing, dancing, whirling/twirling and more.

At this moment, there is also an ofrenda (spanish for "altar" or "table of tribute") on my front porch. Folks here locally have been adding offerings to it, with poems, photos, flowers, red shoes, all adding to the mix. If you want to mail something to add to this altar, just let me know and i'll email you my address. Of course, i'll need your personal email address.

More soon!

love&blessings,
Tammy

- Devin Adams - que descansas en paz -

(oh, friend, the day was not quite what i told you it would be.)

I got the tragic news that another friend, a very young (early 20s)woman, performer & singing musician, died. Devin Adams was a friend and collaborator who lived & played here in FW. I got the news at 5:30pm yesterday. After teaching the kids.

I cried outloud in a parking lot and looked to the sky for answers. Devin was in San Francisco when she was in some sort of bicycle accident. Her email name was ==> AUTONYMY STAR. Very fitting. A bright light for many of us.

I went to the Tejano Democrats thing and drank beer and kept to myself, and then went to a poetry open mic (the car seemed to drive itself....and i had the blues station on REALLY loud--"Whiskey, Take Me Home Tonight"--and the breeze was mysteriously cold.

I saw the sliver moon and dedicated it to my beloved friend. At the open mic, I was the first to speak. I actually sang my song "My Final Resting Place" and spoke of sliver moons and Devin and beauty.

Other poets in the room remembered Devin, and shared their reminiscences.

I will start an ofrenda to Devin on Saturday on my front porch.


I
release my
white knuckled
hands from the throat
of my day and giggle
and squirm as sunrise and
I begin foreplay. Seducing me
slowly she tickles my toes, her
light kisses the small of my
back and my mind's garden grows
while shivers they creep up my spine
and I drink in the air like a fine French wine.
I breathe in like I'm drowning in my bellies deep
deep sea like it's my last chance my last breath to be free

and I smile
and moan with delicious
delight as life penetrates me
magical magentas, bequesting blues, grappling greens
it's a passionate scene, me out of breath, raptured sweaty limbs
intertwined into every space of time because each imperfectly perfect moment
is the bed I will lay
as I make love to each and every day.

- a poem by Devin Adams

Texas documentary on undocumented immigration - airs Tuesday, September 26th, on KERA - Channel 13 @ 9pm

" L E T T E R S F R O M T H E O T H E R S I D E "

---Documentary reveals impact of undocumented immigration on Mexican families on both sides of the border---

September 14, 2006, a U.S. Homeland Security official watches a videotaped message from Laura, a Mexican woman whose husband died in 2003 along with 18 others in the worst immigant smuggling case in United States history.

"How many more deaths does it takek for the U.S. government to do something?" Laura asks.

The videotaped message is one in a series of video letters carried across the U.S.-Mexico border by Heather Courtney, director of LETTERS FROM THE OTHER SIDE, a one-hour public television documentary premiering this month on KERA-TV, channel 13, in the Metroplex of Texas.

The documentary will be aired on Tuesday, September 26th, at 9pm as part of KERA's Hispanic Heritage Month programming. (A free advance public screening of LETTERS--with director Heather Courtney inroducing the film--took place on Sunday, September 24th at the Ice House Cultural Center in South Dallas.)

LETTERS FROM THE OTHER SIDE is a co-production of Front Porch Films and KERA-Dallas/Fort Worth in asssociation with the Independent Television Service (ITVS).

As the immigration debate heats up during this election year, Courtney's documentary draws on those video letters to offer a fresh perspective: an intimate look at the lives of the people most affected by today's immigration and trade policies. Over two years in the state of Guanajuato, Mexico, Courtney followed the lives of four Mexican women and their families, interweaving their stories with cross-border video letters between loved ones and strangers.

MY FORT WORTH: Permaculture study group offers FREE lecture this week

I was suffering a miserable break-up with someone in Boulder. It was around 1989, i guess. I was looking for a way or reason to catapult myself out of that geography of tears and regret, and so I ended up in front of the community notices board at the Boulder Public Library one evening. There was a flyer for an Intro Design Course in something I had never heard of before: Permaculture. "Permanent Culture." An approach to living symbiotically with the land, in your bioregion, that focuses on observing and studying what already exists before employing a shovel, bulldozer, or concrete mixer to change it. I had a growing interest in sustainability and so I signed up for the 2-week course, which took place on a small high-elevation organic farm in Basalt, Colorado. Sounded like a great way to heal a broken heart and start over with something new in mind.


"PERMACULTURE...
...is a practical concept applicable from a balcony to the farm, from the city to the wilderness, enabling us to establish productive environments providing our food, energy, shelter, material and non-material needs, as well as the social and economic infrastructures that will support them.
...is a synthesis of ecology, geography, observation & design.
...encompasses all aspects of human environments and culture, urban and rural, and their local and global impact. It involves ethics of earth care because the sustainable use of land cannot be separated from lifestyle and philosophical issues.
...encourages the restoration of balance to our environments through the practical application of ecological principles. In the broadest sense, Permaculture refers to land-use systems and lifestyle options which utilise resources in a sustainable way."


A new local group, URBAN SMALLHOLDING, has surfaced in Fort Worth, with an eye towards bringing Permaculture principles and methodology to inner-city folks. Here's what they say about themselves:

"Urban Smallholding is a community of people in the Tarrant County area dedicated to learning and implementing permaculture principles in our own homes, neighborhoods. Subject to natural law, we work with what we have and where we are (whether it is a city lot, apartment or rural homestead), to integrate people, land, water, plants, animals, and technologies towards a more regenerative culture and sustainable life and livelihood. Hopefully, we'll have some fun along the way. We have monthly meetings, bi-monthly speakers as well as projects."

Their next public event - a lecture in E. Fort Worth:

PERMACULTURE BASICS
presented by Wayne Weiseman

Wednesday, September 27th - 7:00 - 9:00 PM

Meadowbrook United Methodist Church - 3900 Meadowbrook Dr. - Fort Worth, TX

Talk Outline:
Basic Permaculture Methodologies and Ethics
Edible, medicinal, culinary, and utility landscapes and food forests
Land Restoration
Long-term food preservation
Practical Homesteading Skills
Basic Renewable Energy Systems
Ecological Building construction Methods

For more information contact Kirsten at urbansmallhold@aol.com or phone at 817.915.1392.

You may prefer to join their Yahoo group, via this link.

By the way, I completed the Intro Course and was given a piece of paper certifying me as a Permaculture Introductory Design Trainee. As an urbanite, I've not had too much of a chance to do rainwater catchment or set up a goose pond, but many of the design principles of Permaculture have stayed with me and manifest in my life style choices, decrease in consumption, and resolve to live as low-impact (on the land) as possible. Plus, I now know the difference between a gabion and a wiggle-waggle--both design elements used to prevent land erosion. I've also grown fond of cattails. And the heartbreak? I got past that and found someone new.

Hiroshi Sugimoto chooses favorite films for Modern screenings

Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth Presents
Films Selected by Hiroshi Sugimoto

October 7 - November 25
This film series is presented in conjunction with the special exhibition Hiroshi Sugimoto: End of Time; on view to the public at the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth from September 17, 2006, through January 21, 2007. Tickets are $7.50; $5.50 for Modern members

HIROSHI SUGIMOTO Film Series

Enjoy this rare opportunity to see seven Japanese films carefully selected by Mr. Sugimoto to be shown in conjunction with the exhibition Hiroshi Sugimoto: End of Time. Organized and first presented at the Japan Society in New York in the fall of 2005, it is with their cooperation and approval that the Modern Art Museum proudly offer this unique series here in FW.

Mr. Sugimoto comments: "The Japanese films I have chosen are less cinema verité, more theatrical. The synergy of the artifice of photography and of the theater generate a three-dimensional fiction. The more outrageous the fiction the more credible it becomes. No doubt this is how ancient myths were born."

THE FILMS:

The World of Geisha (1973)
Saturday, October 7, 2 pm
With this film—based on an original tale by Kafu Nagai that was banned for its sexual explicitness—Tatsumi Kumashiro, the leading director of the "Nikkatsu Roman Porno" genre, brilliantly succeeds in bringing the art of the Japanese erotic woodblock print to life.
72 minutes

Due to sexual content, this film is recommended for adults only.


Ten Dark Women (1961)
Saturday, October 14, 2 pm
Filmed in high-contrast black and white and set amidst the background of Japan's explosive economic growth, this film depicts a philandering playboy whose wife and nine mistresses seek vengeance on him.
105 minutes


The Water Magician (1933)
Saturday, November 4, 12:30 pm
This Kenji Mizoguchi masterpiece from the silent era portrays the ethos of a country on the cusp of modern nationhood.
110 minutes


The Face of Another (1966)
Saturday, November 4, 2:30 pm
A man who has lost his face in an accident acquires another man's face and a double life through the ministrations of a plastic surgeon/psychiatrist. The artists who collaborated on this film were pioneers of Japanese literature, music, art, and architecture in the 1960s.
124 minutes


Blind Beast (1969)
Saturday, November 11, 1 pm
A blind sculptor imprisons a perfectly proportioned woman in a quest for the world's first "Sensory Art."
Due to sexual content, this film is recommended for adults only.
86 minutes


Tokyo Drifter (1966)
Saturday, November 11, 3 pm
Director Seijun Suzuki explodes the yakuza film genre with his overtly colorful sets, costumes, and dramatic lighting in this visionary experimental film.
82 minutes


Tokyo Kid (1950)
Saturday, November 25, 2 pm
Set amidst postwar ruins, this beautiful, tragic musical stars Hibari Misora as an orphan surrounded by the eccentric tenants of a low-rent tenement building.
81 minutes


(Film descriptions are excerpted from the Japan Society brochure for Hiroshi Sugimoto Film Series: The Moving Image of Modern Art.)

Reprise performance of SPILLWAY SONATA - Friday, September 15th at 1919 Hemphill in FW

Photo by Stola Subrogo.

SPILLWAY SONATA is a ritual movement work which commemorates those who suffered and survived hurricane Katrina.

This work was created by Tammy Gomez, with Natalia Dominguez and Rachel Loera, and will be performed on FRIDAY, September 15th, at 1919 Hemphill. This work will be performed outdoors in the 1919 Hemphill parking lot.

Performed to the music of avant-garde vocalist Meredith Monk, SPILLWAY SONATA is created in the style of Butoh, a Japanese dance/performance innovation which evolved in the confusion and aftermath of the bombings in Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Butoh is sometimes referred to as the "dance of darkness" and is often described as enigmatic and mysterious.

Tammy Gomez studied Butoh with Doranne Crable, professor of Performance Studies at Evergreen State College in Olympia, Washington. Crable has practiced and performed Butoh for over twenty years, and she herself was taught by Kazuo Ohno, one of the founding fathers of this unique modern dance form.

To Crable, Butoh involves "stripping away the protective masks that humans wear as performers" in order to come into the "vulnerable and gentle part of the human heart."

+++++++++++

Free and open to the public.

Applied Theater workshop - Friday, September 15th - 1-3pm - in Fort Worth

Photo by John Sullivan.

SOUND CULTURE PRESENTS

Improving Health and Environment for Toda la Gente

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15th - Fort Worth, Texas

AFTERNOON EVENT: PLATICA/WORKSHOP

1pm -3pm
Rose Marine Theater GALLERY - 1440 N. Main St.

FREE AND OPEN TO THE PUBLIC - however, donations will be gratefully accepted.

Focus of the platica/presentation: Introduction to Augusto Boal’s "Theater of the Oppressed" theories and techniques to help families learn about health and environmental issues--towards the goal of finding solutions to the public health challenges in their communities.

John Sullivan and Bryan Parras actively use theater performance for public health education purposes in the south Texas region, but have recently become integrally involved in doing assessments of the post-Katrina environmental health crisis in the Gulf Coast region.

Bryan Parras is a performer with EL TEATRO LUCHA DE SALUD DEL BARRIO in Houston and is active with TEJAS (Texas Environmental Justice Advocacy Services).

John Sullivan is a theater artist who co-directs the Public Forum & Toxics Assistance division of the National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences Center at the University of Texas Medical Branch at Galveston. He previously directed two theater companies: Theater Degree Zero (Tucson, Ariz.) and the Theater of Liberation/Seattle Public Theater (Washington).

This will be a hands-on interactive workshop.

FW downtown parade - September 9th, 2006

I was downtown on Saturday (September 9th) to hang out with Ed Smith, the new artistic director of the Jubilee Theater. I walked right past him and he had no idea, cuz I blended in with the group of students I was talking to. They were on their way to stake some pavement for an optimal view of the annual Diez y Seis parade, which was about to commence. What drew me to this group of people is that one of the young women was wearing a South Hills High School t-shirt. I called to her and asked her what she thought about the young kid (male teenager) who had been shot by armed p.d. the day before. She seemed to think that the kid brought it on himself by "acting up" and getting in a fight with another male teen on the South Hills campus. No blaming of the cop, no apparent distress about the situation. At least that was this her take on the incident.

Retracing my steps, I joined Ed on a cast-iron bench set back from the sidewalk and we both contentedly surveyed the downtown happenings. We spoke of jazz music and radio (we both have done live broadcasting), we discussed Dewey Redman's recent passing and his connection to Fort Worth. Ed asked me where I would like to call home, where I would live if I could live anywhere. Not surprisingly, I heard myself respond "Durango. Durango, Colorado, in the 4 Corners region." A sacred geography, with numerous Native American tribes ("first world" is Ed's preferred term) living there. I mentioned that a scientist friend, Ray in Albuquerque, told me that the four corners region (where New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, and Colorado all come together) is a unique geographical location physic-ally, in that it was immune to all the natural "acts of god"--tornados, hurricanes, earthquakes, and the like. As Ray put it, the 4 Corners region was probably one of the safest places to live in all of the U.S. I've camped, mountain biked, and hiked in Durango, and I loved it there. Fort Lewis College is also there--a place where I could probably get into Native Studies (history, literature, and environmental studies). Ed took this all in, marveling at the fact that no one had ever mentioned that part of the Southwest in conversation with him. Never before. All I could say was, "Fort Worth is where the West begins." A trite aphorism, but nonetheless true, in that we as Texans seem to pose our gaze westward. A direction that yields so much mythology and history, a place of vastness and visionary expansion.

And then Chuck showed up, the UTA student slam poet who is so much more than a "slam poet". He intrigues me, but I am patient to learn more about him--as he quietly reveals the layers of himself as the philosopher poet from Stop 6. The three of us--Ed, Chuck, and I--walked to the Corner Bakery for coffee and cheerily parked ourselves at a sidewalk table to watch the Diez y Seis parade. I, as Chicana with two African-American males, offered parade commentary, as the participants waved and pelted us with candy and other freebies.

"...as long as the women's hearts are still high."

The 9/12/01 message below is from Jean Reddeman. Jean is of the Stockbridge Munsee Bank of the Mohican Nation. Her Indian name is Wasaki Emani Wi, which means Strong Walking Woman. She is known by her people as a seer.


"Yesterday's incident seems to be what our elders had predicted a long time ago. It was predicted that there will be a Massive Spiritual Exodus of very advanced Souls in order to really change the value system in the world. This Exodus could have been avoided if the nation would have worked towards peace and spiritual values. This Massive Exodus is sad because it needed so many sacrifices of human lives to allow the global awareness to raise to new levels.

Our elders had predicted that Great Good will come after this tragedy, especially if people recognized the teachings of the event and if they honored those that sacrificed their lives. We have to thank and elevate these souls that died during the tragedy. They will still be around us for 9 days. We need to feast them, honor them and recognize their love for all of us. We have to listen to their teachings as they are very evolved souls that will be helping the major shift that the world so sorely needs. We are to honor them and ask them what we must do to change our world. They came into this lifetime to give us this gift, the gift of their lives and of their love, so that the world changes to a better place. We must honor them, we must go forward. We must listen to their messages from the Heavens.

There is much work to be done, particularly for women. Why women? It comes from an old Indian Proverb: "A nation is not lost as long as the women's hearts are still high. Only when the women's hearts are on the ground - then all is finished, and the nation dies. The women are the life carriers." Women need to reach inside and tap into their own female powerful energy. The world needs much nurturing right now, more than ever. From this female energy, men will gain their original strength. Not the strength that economic, political and military power gives, but true spiritual strength from where all lives truly flourish. We need to cultivate the receptive, docile and nurturing energy. We cannot go on with wars, we will all die, if we do.

We have to see in the middle of the pain and chaos the greater lessons. But, most of all, let us not miss the precious moment that we have in the next 9 days to talk to these souls that have left their bodies for our sake, for our salvation and true freedom. We must thank them from the bottom of our hearts, with incredible love, for they are great people. We have to share this moment so that together we can go to this new consciousness, the female energy that is so much needed at this time."

remnants of SONATA - day after the premiere

[what i sent to my friend Andrea about
SPILLWAY SONATA]

"got caught up with the prep and step
of doing the show. plus, a diez y seis
parade happened on saturday morning,
and it was gallery night that evening.
alot of hubbub in the city.

our show (2 performances): has left
me completely physically exhausted. here
i type, the day after, all muscle achy and
on the border of cranky cuz i'm so tired.
it's a completely consuming immersion, this
SPILLWAY SONATA. 20 minutes long of
continuous slow-slow movement, where every
muscle of your body is engaged, and torqued
and clenched, depending on the gesture
or position you're taking. as my friend
said, "you were wearing the experience"
of being in Katrina. and it was true, we
were buffeted by strong winds, pummeled
by unforgiving rain, and wading through
waist-deep toxic floodwaters.....in our
minds, we were there and our bodies evoked
what we were thinking.

feedback from audience:
"you looked like dead souls"
"it reminded me of purgatory"
"i cried when you picked up the trashbags"
"people were wiping their eyes"
"i really felt like i was there"
"beautiful"

so, all in all, i am pleased. we will perform
this work one more time, next friday, when
i host some events having to do with environmental
health impact of Katrina (workshop on using
Boal's theater of the oppressed techniques
to start dialogue with gente of Houston about
environmental toxics in their communities PLUS
a screening of a new doc video on Katrina
environmental damage). another busy week
coming up.

"After the Wind, Child, After the Water's Gone"

DOCUMENTARY FILM SCREENING - Friday, September 15th - 7pm
LOCATION: 1919 Hemphill St.

TEXAS FILMMAKERS’ KATRINA WORK TO BE SCREENED AT 1919 HEMPHILL COMMUNITY CENTER ON FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15th IN FORT WORTH

Just weeks after Hurricane Katrina struck, John Sullivan of the Sealy Center for Public Health and Medicine and Bryan Parras of Texas Environmental Justice Advocacy Services (TEJAS) were sent to Louisiana to meet with community leaders to find out how the National Institute for Environmental Health (NIEH) could collaborate with local groups. Their fact-finding journey took them from Baton Rouge, through Orleans, St. Bernard, Jefferson, Lafourche, and Terrebonne parishes, and to the city of New Iberia.

Their “day job,” asking about the damage sustained, the significant threat to human health in the area, and what environmental health projects are thought most important, ended with a report presented to the NIEH director’s conference in November.

However, Sullivan says, “The flood of fact and feeling we got back from our collaborators refused to stay inside the neat little box of our original purpose. From the moment we arrived in Baton Rouge we realized that the magnitude of the human and ecological damage demanded something more intimate and less formal, something grounded in fact but which also opened a window into how it really feels to live in the middle of an eco-catastrophe.”

So Sullivan and Parras took the videos of their interviews and pieced them together with music, still pictures, and color commentary from locals, into a film entitled ". . . after the wind, child, after the waters gone. . ."

Sullivan says the people in the film hope to promote “understanding and empathy with the plight of coastal Louisiana, home of so much of our energy industry infrastructure, a nexus of ongoing struggles by African-American, Houma, and Cajun communities for basic environmental, social and cultural justice, the most bountiful and endangered estuarine fishery in the Lower 48, way-station for innumerable species of migratory birds, and the cradle of so much of our national culture.”

The film will be shown on Friday, September 15th, at 1919 Hemphill Community Center, at 7pm. This screening will be open to the public with a suggested donation of $5--however, no one will be turned away for lack of funds.

To read John Sullivan's essay about the experience of making this documentary go here.

For more information about the film screening in Fort Worth, please call 817-924-9188 or email sound_culture@hotmail.com.

SPILLWAY SONATA - Gallery Night, Saturday, September 9th in FW

SPILLWAY SONATA is a ritual movement work which commemorates those who suffered and survived hurricane Katrina.

This work was created by Tammy Gomez, with Natalia Dominguez and Rachel Loera, and will be performed twice on Saturday, September 9th--as part of Fall Gallery Night 2006.

SPILLWAY SONATA will be performed in the Plaza at Rose Marine Theater (1440 N. Main St.) at 6:30pm.

The work will also be performed at 8pm at Arts Fifth Avenue (1628 Fifth Avenue) in the indoor studio.

Performed to the music of avant-garde vocalist Meredith Monk, SPILLWAY SONATA is created in the style of Butoh, a Japanese dance/performance innovation which evolved in the confusion and aftermath of the bombings in Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Butoh is sometimes referred to as the "dance of darkness" and is often described as enigmatic and mysterious.

Tammy Gomez studied Butoh with Doranne Crable, professor of Performance Studies at Evergreen State College in Olympia, Washington. Crable has practiced and performed Butoh for over twenty years, and she herself was taught by Kazuo Ohno, one of the founding fathers of this unique modern dance form.

To Crable, Butoh involves "stripping away the protective masks that humans wear as performers" in order to come into the "vulnerable and gentle part of the human heart."

+++++++++++

SPILLWAY SONATA
Gallery Night premiere

Rose Marine Theater - 6:30pm - outdoors in the Plaza
Arts Fifth Avenue - 8:00 pm - indoors in the studio

Free and open to the public.

waterway

Letter i emailed to Maria Limon, committed biciclista, writer, and activist. Great Austin compa:

Dear Maria:

I am well. Trying to get some labor done on labor day--a writer's work is never done, right?

Thanks so much for kindly sending me your Kwan Yin fotos. They are awesome: i love the color scheme and textures in each of them. Very cool....

The one of exposed roots looks so much like running water. I am SO into water right now.

Thinking of it in so many metaphorical ways.

With 3 other Chicana performers, I am co-creating a work of movement ritual to COMMEMORATE the people who suffered/survived Katrina. Water as flood, oppressor, is a deep thing (no pun intended), as we also dearly depend on water for sustenance.

I sit here and let these different tributaries of thought combine into a stream of parallel constructs. Theory as waterfall.

flood of memories
if it rains
if it rain
oh black water
chance/of rain
watermarked
waterstain
high waters
drippin/drained
water, rose water
down/pour
tanto lluvia
water retention
no one, not even the rain
water/damage
poco de gracia
No ark
post-diluvian
es regnet
a deep thing
overflow
running stream
spillway

Speaking of water, we got rain. Last night, all night. I just let it happen without getting attached, or celebrating too much. I just ate my dinner and continued doing my thang at home.

bliss is mellow sometimes.


TODAY is also CRITICAL MASS day, aqui en Fort Worth. Go ride your bike together with other local pedalers.

Wishing you a happy rainy bicycle path.