tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19696894983448274922024-02-19T23:45:06.772-08:00#2 Free Peoples Poetry WorkshopFrancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-47814235527248891982012-06-18T04:57:00.000-07:002012-06-18T04:57:12.293-07:00This Time we've engaged the family in a contestPopee has almost finished his novel
soon he will attend to his tour
and read
only Eliz is going home and won't be here
Mor asks if I'm ashamed of my stretch marks
on my tummy
each year we gather at the home
of our only daughter
eat bread with sauce
talk about the future
of the family
a mix if potential and brute consideration
all making it through
the caverns
and
lakes
caverns and lakes..Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-22028627098996806692009-09-22T19:32:00.000-07:002010-05-29T14:28:44.542-07:00This one's for you/the children of my basket/we've been together so long that it feels like forever<ol><li><div align="right">We reached up to the crawl space above the house and found an old shoe/at least two hundred years old/It is this shoe that we carried across the Plains to the new house. We made a <span style="font-size:180%fire;"><strong><em>fi <blockquote></blockquote>re</em></strong></span> in the back yard and roasted a turkey. Some of you carried the kindling/some blew on the fire/some chopped down a tree in the yard. When the meal was prepared we brought our plates in to the house .,.and sat on the floor/that was the last time we lived together. </div></li></ol>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-29760172879061760712009-08-27T15:14:00.000-07:002009-08-27T15:36:40.800-07:00Glad to be back in my own bed/where I can pull the covers out the way we like it<ul><li><div align="right">I used to get my ideas from the world/now it feels like I am furnishing ideas at a pace that I can't even control. Tomorrow my children will leave the city. We have been put for a few hours. Our colorful cabin rings with a feeling of peace. It is this which feeds us. The evening storm approaches. We cannot expect to outdistance the weather too. The salmon are running upstream soon and we look to the Fall for some answers. But as long as we've been making art/forty years/ there has never been any realization which could carry us longer than a few hours. The nature of creativity looses the strings which hold people fast in their tracts. We were dancing around the table to oldies and all of a sudden you began to jump on the bed. Salt/smile/flies like undertow and dive. It was time for you to leave for work like you have for so many many years. I wait and pray/answer the phone/cook/sew/review my poems/when I hear the lock open/my heart hits my feet and I receive you/filled with the muscle of fist which envelops me/I drink your salt lips. <blockquote></blockquote></div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-17642488238186058882009-07-12T23:56:00.000-07:002009-07-13T00:10:17.949-07:00My son Ben leaves for the high contry/we have been together so little these days that we hardly notice<ul><br /><li><br /><div align="right">We have been stuck before in an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">uncomprimised</span> position. The kids scattered throughout/Danielle/Kevin/Adam in Maine. It is hard to swallow the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">disappearance</span> of people you love. Their agendas fall where they may and I follow along in my heart and mind. THIS <span style="font-size:180%;"><strong><em><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">SU</span><br /><blockquote></blockquote><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">MMER</span></em></strong></span> PROVES TO BE A LONELY PIT. We have traveled and slept in the wilds/placed our breast at the foot of The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">PIETA</span>. </div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-52000231950878467502009-07-06T23:08:00.000-07:002010-05-24T16:40:04.431-07:00Now that the Buffalo's gone/B.S.M.- DEEP night/a passing of spirit world /Ahdy holds on to the dream while his teeth punch up<ul><li><div align="right">We sit in this glass booth/it is we who are paid to do nothing but sing to the public in piped over voices channeling a sense of humor and destiny. The soft grass between our toes and the moon shots.(B.S.M.) We cannot find the peace anywhere but dealing with the public/a forum taught to us by our ancestors. It is this creation of inter amalgamation of the spirits weaving in an undestined light which brings forth the personality. <blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote></div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-33348564982063460572009-06-29T04:08:00.001-07:002010-05-24T16:37:35.566-07:00Ripley's Believe it or Not/this I know/I love like none otherMy new friends/ The Lady with The Beard/she never got married/her weight is more than 6oolbs./ A glass booth with Mr Sunken Cheeks/an allusion/plastic large lenses cover eye balls. (a lady peeping frm the street) I PULL HER IN FOR AN EDUCATED OPINION/"Not real/she says,look at their eyes" I HAVE MADE FRIENDS W/DUMMIES/IT IS NOT TRUE/they must have pin holes in their eyes. I stay with them at the booth for at least twenty minutes. Their voices sing different riffs in an low unnatural sound/I look at her hand/ it is large/veins run through/His sucked in face/has a quality about it like the man one meets at the bar/we cry together express our deepest fears and goals to one another. It will be five hundred dollars a week that /from my hotel room around the corner will not spend.<strong></strong>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-84209219493514723732009-06-19T06:29:00.001-07:002009-06-19T06:46:34.698-07:00June 20/'09/It's time to relate/take the fish out of the bay/sing a song of doubt/create a new piece and don't worry about anything<div align="center">Not only do I HAVE TO WORK THROUGH MY OWN INSECURITIES/but we are responsible for everyone else who judges us poorly. Yeah-I CAN BREATHE/PUT down my respirator/click on twitter/some dancer chick wants me to join her healthclub. She's history/one click/she better count one less follower/ like the architects in the courtyard/I WAVE/THEY TURN THEIR HEADS/ park of the power is to march on/not let the pain in/ride the waves/ create inspite of the suffering/let those hands move</div><ul><ul><li><div align="justify"><blockquote><div align="justify"> </div></blockquote></div></li></ul></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-63462273189095473842009-06-04T08:33:00.000-07:002009-06-04T08:39:25.024-07:00what drug could heal us now / what food could soothe us /1992<ul><li><div align="right">Near Success/ a hook drives us back/inside ourselves /we know /only the struggle / the suckling reach / terror ridden days / without a summer rainbow/without a summer rainbow/warriors in love with ourselves. <blockquote></blockquote></div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-588576822233690582009-06-03T12:47:00.000-07:002009-06-03T12:58:15.091-07:00Ain't no crime in being poor /the unspoken alliance<ul><li><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#333399;"><strong><em><blockquote></blockquote>OH</em></strong></span> COME TO ME LIKE FLUTES AND CYMBALS / IT'S A party I won't forget <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">/ </span></div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-73110888937651737302009-06-03T09:20:00.001-07:002009-06-27T00:47:54.626-07:001979/WISTHERIA vines/Ga. OCONEE COUNTY/The KillCONFUSION TRAPPED me into being jealous / Why/do you love /me / I head for the abandoned house /I KNOW I can deserve you / no money /no security / tons of responsibility /<strong></strong><strong></strong>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-72045890558236603542009-06-02T06:49:00.000-07:002009-06-02T07:02:27.934-07:001982/Fletcher Place COMMUNITY center/FREE store / INDPLS. ,Indiana<ul><li><div align="right">I STAND AT THE DOOR/WAIT for the store to open /this is my time away from the kitchen/ Cora/leans on her cart/like a sister/ she has a full beard / Esther/covers her mouth with her fingers/they flutter in front of her/ she is toothless/I AM ALMOST / SHE SWEARS HER HUSBAND/George could hear/long after he died / the bell sound/clothes hang on racks neatly/ boxes hold shoes/scarves/underwear/ we carry cardboard boxes/ fill up on little knicknacks/volunteer s /Ida and Billie/ yell at us /keep nthe racks straight/don't drop hangers/ be sure to safetypin the pants back/ I CARRY THE MOST/ coats/little crafts made of wood/books...... <blockquote></blockquote></div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-89514144986296870482009-05-24T12:32:00.000-07:002009-05-24T12:38:27.085-07:001989/Mass.Ave.,Indy, in front of Denouement Fine Art<div align="right"><blockquote></blockquote>He did not come /in a limousine /wearing a Porkpie hat /He walked right up to me /and said /\that he was a poet.</div>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-37654828129301806562009-05-22T13:36:00.001-07:002009-05-22T13:53:24.735-07:00while living in the Berube house/we traveled north to Chapais<ol><li><div align="right"><blockquote></blockquote>baby girl swings in the doorway of the hut. Alo is also swinging in a Jolly Jumper. MARY AND EMILY WRAP THEIR HEAD WITH HERB POTIONS SOAKED CLOTHS. I HAVE ASSEMBLED A marionette caLLED lucky Ducky/ He is yellow/made of stuffed rags/button eyes/sewn mouth / I PREPARE FOR PUPPET sHOW/ WALK THE MARIONETTE across the room/on all fours/ Later we hear that the baby/three years old /had never walked/ but stood for the first time to accompany the puppet. </div></li></ol>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-36534653911072230122009-05-19T06:18:00.001-07:002009-05-19T06:26:10.216-07:00around 1990 /three kids join us to complete a project up state Indiana<ul><li><div align="right">We snuggle 'round /spin off muffler /jump in the Blue River HOLE / bEANS /CORN /catfishin' in Wanatah /Shiloh /red rasberries at Tip Top Farm / a childsize train sits on Teabury Hill /willow weep for me /willow weep for me /and you too / Wearing gloves /a young man and his son / search a burnout / the air stings / Strawberries / closed for trhe season / open antiques / floor to attic / In Pierre farmers clean seeds / we snuggle 'round the spiun-off muffler. <blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote></div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-86162403523726024412009-05-17T15:12:00.001-07:002009-05-17T15:17:05.544-07:00FEB./'90 / a bIRTHDAY POEM tO mYSELF<ul><li><div align="right">yOU WERE JUST AN ACCIDENT / A CARELESS RESULT /BETWEEN AN UPTOWN girl and a street kid / No one ever wanted you / The world is made up of accidental beings /who fight to survive for one reason or another.... <blockquote></blockquote></div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-55813431367183616692009-05-16T03:30:00.000-07:002009-05-16T03:39:36.096-07:00She painted flower paintings /wheeled a shopping cart<ol><li><div align="right">Her husband <blockquote></blockquote>/ had left her for a younger woman / this she does not deal with / her children treat her daft /NOW SHE LIVES ALONE IN FEDERAL Housing / says she feels light again / like running to the bus to grab a free meal at the senior center / this spring cancer struck / like a welcome visitor / first she gave one breast / then the other......</div></li></ol>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-74094237577366449772009-05-16T02:53:00.000-07:002009-05-16T02:58:40.069-07:00Moses and Jackie get married / we gather under the Brooklyn Bridge<ol><li><div align="right">Honey in the grass /carrying the Hupa /Moses and Jackie tie the knot / TORAH DAY /Heavenly day / a great bird swoops down upon our heads....... <blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote></div></li></ol>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-42182345942346730712009-05-15T15:34:00.000-07:002009-05-15T15:40:31.193-07:001997 /newspaper stand on the bowery /artist owned<ol><li><div align="right"><blockquote></blockquote>he guards the store / a drizzle of fear / a setting moon / full heart / our feet light and soaring THE <strong><em>BOSS</em></strong> / A mICKEY mOUSE DOLL ON THE COUNTER / [i TRY TO BUY IT ]</div></li></ol>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-79815156475319865072009-05-14T06:17:00.001-07:002009-05-14T06:30:38.327-07:00looking out to the canal /harvesting the flowers [LILACS]<ul><li><div align="justify">My son says '' Be careful at the rock ''HE CALLS ME TOUGH GIRL /THE ROLES BETWEEN PARENTS AND CHILDREN REVERSE AT A CERTAIN POINT .............iT IS SO QUIET HERE THAT YOU CAN ALMOST SEE THE GHOSTS IN THE HOUSE. wE LOOK OUT TO THE CANAL and the steep rock cliffs /prepare to make bread orat least try to / we use the solitude as a jumping off point. <blockquote></blockquote></div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-57197708118669985632009-05-12T01:39:00.001-07:002009-05-12T01:51:22.815-07:00The BRONX BLUES /OR DOES IT GET ANY HARDER THAN THISIt's time for revolution /not the kind where the press is locked out but that nature takes over /they say you can't survive with no money /just your wits but we are traveling up this avenue of desperation / We could have checked into an institution of higher learning or even pretended that we cared to stray into some employement . We love our children and grandchildren and want them to understand what is happening /the bottom is falling out /our sincere wishes for the pursuit of happiness has taken a side rode / We /again / are at the mercy of those who pay us for art rendered in this time.<strong></strong><em></em> <blockquote></blockquote>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-31824813556929291992009-05-10T15:51:00.000-07:002009-05-10T15:56:14.725-07:00excluded from Battleground /1985<ul><li><div align="center"><blockquote></blockquote>Mama /warming herself /on the heater /drunk / Nelson had fallen off the bed / the pin in his hip was swollen and inflamed /the phone had fallen too / the skies bursting jazz lightning /you all wet / standing at the back door /knocking /trying to help.......</div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-46177575616351348292009-05-09T06:58:00.000-07:002009-05-09T08:10:26.781-07:00INDIANA HELD US FOR 15YEARS /A GOLDEN place<ul><li><div align="center">dreams float like kisses /sweet babies / down by the tracks there's a shanty /with a sock on a stick / a mulberry grove surrounds / I peek in.... <blockquote></blockquote></div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-75933485941154676292009-05-06T13:24:00.000-07:002009-05-06T13:29:35.592-07:00page two of Rosecity Poem /BENNY AND Michelles' before kids<ul><li><div align="right">please know that experimentation is the artist friend /create the buddy list from the heart /take nothing for grantedtHE cHELSEA / JANIS jOPLIN Slept here / bobbie dylan at Henrys' /Steve mOSES AND I SLEEP IN VAN /WHILE WOMEN / WET WITH JOY FOR MY HUSBAND'S BEAUTY SMILE AT HIM /COME and get it / what have they done <blockquote></blockquote></div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-37780572475482541402009-05-05T22:06:00.000-07:002009-05-05T22:14:00.951-07:00lAUNDRAMAT bLUES pART 11 /1998 /new york city<ul><li><div align="center">please know that experimentation is the artist friend /create the buddy list from the heart /take nothing for We take it to the strreets /We take everything to thge streets / the sneer /upturned noses / backs turned /lips curled corners of the mouth drooping / and we watch the passerbys deflect / our art / cONFUSCIOUS SAYS <blockquote></blockquote> /gO home /Go Home / You will never make it /here the tough crumble to sand / TWO ARMS EXTENDED We trudge to SOHO / 26THsT. /MET MUSEUM /Moma /Coney Island /we are alone but not afraid /We are alone but not afraid..</div></li></ul>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1969689498344827492.post-41971098348794754152009-05-03T20:35:00.000-07:002009-05-03T20:45:07.047-07:00unresolved poem about murder and disregard<ol><li><div align="right">please know that experimentation is the artist friend /create the buddy list from the heart /take nothing for granted ah mumia /LUIMA / DIALLO /LUIMA dIALLO /SHARPTON FIGHTS /FOR THE PEOPLE / hUNTER STUDENT HAS BUTCHER BKNIFE STIVKING OUT / OF HER CHEST / WITH HER GROCERIES STREW ON THE SIDEWAK ///cHRISTINE IS MISSING / BUT gARRY bUSH KNOWS DA cACCA /jOHNNY cOCRAM KNOWS o.j. / AND A MAN SAY HE'S SORRY FOR PUSHING wEBDALE OFF THE PLATFORM /CAUSE HE DIDN'T TAKE HIS PILS / THE ART TEACHER AND HIS GIRLFRIEND ON pearl st. complained and they went missing / but if you can't find the bodies / you're not assumed dead / aaren't we alldying bit by lil' bit disintegrating into toes and bone while our flesh dries fro lack of care</div></li></ol>Francyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11571946476103868008noreply@blogger.com0