November 27, 2007 by Melanie Alberts.

fog lifts—
deer prints on both
sides of the fence

Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments »

November 19, 2007 by Melanie Alberts.

Thanks to all who came to hear us read yesterday afternoon! It was a nice crowd and excellent poetry all around. I asked to read first so Cher could make a dinner engagement with her parents (what a swell friend I am). I noticed that they taped it so the reading will surface on the Public Access channel late some Saturday night when you least expect it.

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

November 17, 2007 by Melanie Alberts.

“The turnout was great,” Coger said afterwards. “I have never got that many people into Giffels [auditorium]. The amount of people that didn’t leave while he was speaking was amazing, too.”

–Stephen Coger, on a lecture held at the University of Arkansas by Tibetan Buddhist doctor Jhampa Kalsang.

Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

November 16, 2007 by Melanie Alberts.

I know why artists love you:
your halves join like bodies

reclining, leaning into each other,
two nudes with delectable shadows.

I know how I love you each summer,
holding your form warm from the garden

in one hand, then another, my fingers
stay curled as on a bare shoulder.

I tell myself you are beautiful
but not a shame to eat; I think

this through winter, slicing bought
peppers into strips that smell

something of summer, something of heat.

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

November 15, 2007 by Melanie Alberts.

Robert Hass, one of my favorite writers, won the National Book Award for his book of poetry “Time and Materials.” Hurrah! (also glad for Terry Gross…my answer to her question is: “a good writer speaks to all humans…and you have a generous heart”).

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/15/us/15books.html?hp

Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

November 14, 2007 by Melanie Alberts.

My body wraps itself in a white sheet,
a white sheet woven by angry wasps.
Angry wasps build toxic houses. Toxic

houses spill out into my street.
My street is as straight as a dying pen’s scribble.
Pens scribble; pressing hard

into a napkin (a napkin makes a handy
surrender flag). Surrender, flag me down
and ravish me. Ravish me so I’m not so lonesome.

So lonesome, my body wraps itself around you.
Around you, angry pens sting and surrender,
surrender like words filled with negative space.

Negative space rattles branches of giant oaks—
giant oaks that line the veins of a town,
a town that knows you will hardly surrender.

Hardly surrender? I was born writhing against my body.

Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

November 13, 2007 by Melanie Alberts.

The warmth of the morning means different things; humidity clings from plant to plant to your pants as you slip through the phantom dark. Whatever it is you keep in the subtly abnormal place in your brain, bouquets spring up around you, old places you’ve lived churn with vibrant subliminal colors that pull you back because you belonged there once. You left trails of DNA and bodies of acquaintances strewn on the path like tossed tissues. If this were a letter to your best friend, it would be decorated with sketches of boys seated nearby sipping on paper cups brimming with sex substitutes of all flavors. Fill me in, you write. Don’t keep me in the dark, unfold my letter and place your cup upon it. I won’t mind the drips.

Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

November 11, 2007 by Melanie Alberts.

we wear red poppies
in rememberance–
in Afghanistan
a skeleton dangles
from an opium bud

Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »