In Denver! Chickens, Film, Cooperatives!

I am happy to be attending the AWP (Association of Writers and Writing Programs) conference in Denver. Meeting wonderful people!

I am pleased and honored to be staying with friends Candace and Jon Orlando, who I met last year when I was in a very little village in Ecuador, Santa Marianitas (about 1 1/2 hours north of Quito). They came into the village one day to film the work of the women's cooperative I was working with, which makes artisanal crafts from the seeds and nuts (e.g., the tagua nut) of the cloud forest (el bosque nublado). They are in the process of producing an international documentary, Tribe All, on women taking leadership in groups to transform our use of resources. Great work!
Check out Jon and Candace's film

Jon Orlando is also a photographer; one of his projects has been to film returning Iraq War veterans. Beautiful.
See Jon's photography

On top of all that, Jon and Candace are working in Denver's urban agriculture movement! They are slowly adopting urban land and turning lawns into seed beds! They're growing starts inside now, and will sell their food to residents through the CSA system.

I saw the twenty 2-month-old chickens they're keeping in their back room before moving them out into the newly built, hand-carpentered chicken coop in the back yard. (I even held one, and was impressed that their dog, Solstice, was trained not to nab them!) Since the yard has a sweeping view of Denver's skyline, we joke that the chickens will have a better view than the people in the house!

Film: Where Is The War Plays D.C.!

Moisés and I are pleased to announce that our short film, Where Is The War?, has been selected to be shown in the Film Program of the Split This Rock Poetry Festival, in Washington, D.C.!

Thursday, March 11, there will be two (2) screenings:
-- 2-3:30 p.m. FREE
-- 10:30 pm.-midnight. Cost: $8
Location: Busboys and Poets Café @ 14th & V.
2021 14th St
NW DC 20009
(202) 387 - POET (7638) Map and parking info: http://www.busboysandpoets.com/about_14th.php

Please pass the word on to your friends in D.C.!

Where is the War?, based on my poem of the same title, follows a work commute as we hear the poem asking, "Where is the war?" The camera searches for where the war lives in our daily lives. As we move through roads, phrases from the poem are transposed on the screen, over images of blue sky and cars crossing the San Francisco Bay Bridge.

The journey is based on the lines:
does it live, this war
in one hundred thousand commuters
each sheathed in her metal, gliding
glissando, fearing no danger?
The soundtrack is my reading the poem, accompanied by Moisés on guitar.

The end of the film is Moisés’s haunting playing as we return by night in the tunnel. Red brake lights fill the tunnel with red.

In the final shot, we end in a schoolyard, with a tire swing swinging, still looking for the movement of where the war lives in us.

In Where is the War?, our intention is to show by absence. There are no people in the film, only cars with invisible drivers, moving soundlessly through that most familiar of rituals, the morning commute. By feeling the absences, we feel presence. Augmenting the voiceover, key phrases float in objects, so that poetry appears to emerge from landscape.

Split This Rock Poetry Festival Public Event Listing: http://www.splitthisrock.org/schedule_2010/publicevents2010.html

Go Out of the Burning House

Go out. Go out of the burning.
Go out of the burning house.

Smoke in the air, and the horizon
Of trees lit up orange.

You can stay and defend it.
Many have.

You can linger a while over
The possessions. Consider

Photographs, coffee cup,
Computer, diaries.

Where is your soul in these?
Go out, go out without them.

Do not return for the dog,
I know her, she will find

Her way out. Go out
With nothing but your soul

In your hands. It is light,
It is not much to carry.

It is what you came here with,
Remember? With suffering

And time, you have made
It better. You can be proud.

Now go out, go out
Of the burning house.

You’ve become more generous.
We can see it in your hands,

Swinging by your side,
Opened toward the sky,

As you stride out, out
Of the burning house.

Your memories live in skin,
Future also dwells in cells.

It is not the thing
But the becoming.

You and I, we are making
Something beautiful together:

Music on the horizon.
Walk toward it.

It fades, and you’re alone,
On the smoldering earth.

Press your face onto it.
In a thin t-shirt

Leave, leave, walk out
Depart from the burning house.

Possessionless you’ll sleep
Tonight. Lay your head down.

Bed of the earth, shifting
Sounds of the desert.

It takes you, it’s been waiting
For you. Finally you have come.

You lay yourself
Down upon it.

Like a prostitute,
You hold nothing in your hands.

You murmur, The rattlesnakes…
As you fade to sleep.

Cracks in the earth
Searing your cheek.

In the wind, you hear:
Trade fear

For faith.
In what?

You ask. The desert gestures
Around you. Anything

But this, desert says, placing

Its hand, hot, on your chest.
You wake. What is it?

You turn to see. Behind you,
Lifting from the desert floor, arching across black sky,

Smears of light, magenta-blue.
It is the soul of something that is not you.

Soul of the universe. Not
The thing but the becoming. It lulls

You back to sleep. You wake,
Hand on your back. Turn to see

Friends, kneeling beside,
Who say, Been wishing for you all night.

You snooze.
Wake to the dawn,

Yellow-red. This time it might be real.
You ask, Which one are you? It answers:

Nothing but the love you have loved,
Love you have made between others.

Alone, you nod, and rise, brush
Yourself off, prepare to walk

Toward them.
You’d do it again:

Go out, go out
Go out of the burning house.

You hold nothing,
You hold

Nothing
In your hands.

Avatar Love Haiku!

When will my dragon claim me?
I want to fly its back
Through floating mountains

The Sun Has Fallen on the Floor

The sun has fallen on the floor
But I don’t mind
They say hurry up rush
But I take my time

The sun has fallen on the floor
The room has a rising temperature
I’m listening to everything you say
But I’m not so sure

Cherry blossoms blooming in the grey sky
I can hear the freeway from here
I’m listening to everything you say
But I’m not so sure
I’ll listen to the freeway

Listen to the song

Song: Why Am I So Pink?

Why am I so pink?
Can’t seem to avoid the sun
The sun makes me blink
But it shines on everyone

Then why am I so pink?
Wanted to be fair
The sun plays a prank
Upon my cheeks and chin

Go to sleep and I am pink
Wake up and I am pink
Even the night
Seems to shine

Why am I so pink?
I wanted to be fair
My face has to shrink
From all the light that is out there

They say Apply a little zinc
I do but I’m still pink

Red red redder
Paper in the shredder

All this light it stinks
Forget it let’s play tiddly-winks


Listen to the song

Song: It's Raining Here Today!

Song: It’s Raining Here Today

it’s raining here today there’s a
space between the clouds
reports about mudslides caving
hills way down south

it’s raining here today I’d be your
friend if I weren’t busy
typing and thinking about the
gutters overflowing

it’s raining here today window
panes are struck
with water hitting slantwise life has
come unstuck I see you between

it’s raining here today I’d have to
say the sun is elsewhere
in these parts it’s what it means
means to be winter:
grey cement and water on the sky

it’s raining here today there’s a
space between the clouds
news reports about mudslides caving
hills way down south

I’d be your friend if I weren’t I’d have to
say the sun is elsewhere
grey cement and water on the sky
look at us we’re still inside

Listen to the song (1 1/2 min.)