Now that we’re finally moved in and teaching is done for the summer, I’m getting time to do things like read about art theory, and I’m so glad, because
I’m really excited about this. I’m also excited because FINALLY TOMORROW we are moving and I will have a real home-space again. In which to re-situate my belongings, to reproduce the installation that is my life.
Today I have flea-medicated three cats. Have I found a new special skill set?
Also, I think, maybe, I don’t know, we MIGHT be moving at the end of this week. O to have a home!
Here, also, is my review of Ventifacts.
How pretty is that cover? And meaningful to the content as well. Good book design is important to me, unfortunately, which means I am only sending my manuscript to book contests/reading periods for publishers with good design. This means I don’t have a ton of places to send it. Oh well.
This pretty thing came in the mail. The cover image is pretty disastrous, which suits me and my dreams just fine. One of the letters to the Woman in the Woods is in here, and in an unexpected plot twist, so is a prose poem that isn’t a part of a book-length project. Okay, fine, it’s part of a short sequence of prose poems. But it’s not part of a book or a chapbook. And that’s cool.
It’s hard to tell where the house ends and outside begins—the surroundings of the house almost seem to hold it up. And it’s hard to tell where the house ends and her insides begin, there is so much inside around her. As if a house could be eaten, as if a house could eat her.
– Patricia Lockwood, Balloon Pop Outlaw Black
Last night I dreamed of moving into a house with too much living space. Extra bedrooms and multiple kitchens. Everything was boxy and sort of jumbled. There was a trap door to the attic, and through it I saw a landscape of puppet-like dummies, life-size, dangerous. I knew when I opened the trap door that whatever entered the attic could never come out again.