Wear it Like A headscarf

   

      A Klepto-collaborative Poem of TEDxYouth@TheWoodlands ~ January 7, 2012

First off, I have some questions:

Is Osama Bin Laden your uncle?

Why isn’t something being done?

What caused such an act of violence?

Why do you wear that thing?

Why am I thinking this?

What’s worth fighting for?

How much blood would he have to give?

Are you going to blow up a building?

How are you going to pay for college?

Who in this room has autism?

Are these people going to kill you?

What two different things can you combine to create something new?

How pumped up is your science teacher?

What are you capable of?

Can you change your world?

Can you give us some practical things?

What separates you?

Do I let it show?

Hey, Wally, what should I do?

OK, wait          Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

Close your eyes          A knock on the door

Look          A story          As good as a circus

A phenomenal journey          To different parts of the world

Running through a canopy of trees          Like Indiana Jones          From point A to point B

A giant step          Inspired by          Wildscape

A mission trip          In the fellowship of each other

A long, personal conversation          A quest for knowledge

Outside the reservation of          What you and I take for granted

To a village          Where the girl in the middle’s doing a very good job

Learning the alphabet           Of hope

Which roughly translates to          School Where We Have Fun

Where knowledge and education are universal

Where there’s          No stereotypes or stigmas

Where            Instead of          Mud huts          No running water or electricity

There’s          A bed in every room          A pillow          Under her head

There’s          Enough

Dive          Just beneath the surface

Of what you think you know          Of an excess of everything

Imagine if you will          Waiting at the bus stop          Of progress

With an empty stomach          Only one meal a day

This is a letter

From The eyes of a child          My mother          My teacher

Saying           Become an advocate          Support kids          Make an impact

Raise your awareness          Serve as interpreters

Go around          Boxes          Of default programming

Go to school          Lead by example          Occupy

Shrug it off          Wash everything off          Cover the wound

Everything’s gonna be alright

Come together          Rise above          Become great people

Effect incredible change          Innovate          Inspire

Begin to see our originality          Don’t take candy from strangers

Fast-forward through          The media

Trust me          Just do that

Welcome          A trainload of                     Cans          Filled with          Awestruck

Coexist          With our flaws          SpongeBob          And          The Beave

With every          Kaleidoscope          Ideology

Open up          Break ground          Go around the rail yard          Dancing

Elevate          Compassion          Highlight          Heroes

Gravitate towards          People who believe in you

Find groups          Of          A Sweet Intent

Go for your dreams          Overcome every obstacle

You must be patient          You can do whatever you want to do

The secret is          To own it

Spend a lot of time          Collecting          A vast array of

Heart-beating          Beauty:

Oxygen               Maps          Of humble beginnings

A round of applause          Weather data & sculpture

Proud          Car batteries & wire

Theme parks & small shacks          Chess-playing          Elephants

Bright red blood          Reflections of iceberg blue

My life story          Cleaned and weighed

Listen

Hear my voice          Hold the door

Feed          Clothe          Nurture          Shelter

Provoke          Create               Read          Literature

Stand on top of the Whitehouse          And          Think of your children

See originality          See connections          Keep looking          Acknowledge

Sell more groundnuts          Pay back that loan

Play Legos          Play soccer          Play the composition again

Have a bit of a gimmick          In the way of a bicyclist

Step back and consider          The rise of text messaging          Of domestic violence

Have a great system          Make that tension go away

Center          Be quiet          Change the channel          Change the setting

Resurrect          Initiative          Hard work          High regard

Swim for two hours in          The stuff nobody talks about

Summon the energy to          Make a smirk between the asterisks

Make the case            For continuing to hone           A better future for us all

Create a better world          With clean water          Education          Safe shelter

Change the life of           “Hi, my name is Jim.”

Look at this view

Imagine          You can stand here and see

Unity          All these people holding hands

Diversity           You were not expecting

Our best resource is          The human spirit

Growing          Empowerment & compassion

Carry all of this around every day

Country to country, community to community

Wear it

Like          A headscarf

Our flag

A privilege

TEDxYouth@TheWo…

TEDxYouth@TheWoodlands was this past Saturday, January 7th.  It was such a privilege to share the stage with that amazing group of speakers and performers!  For the opening of the conference day I created a kind of klepto-collaborative poem that I’ve never done before.  I’m still a bit amazed my idea was welcomed so enthusiastically.  Imagine proposing to event organizers a couple of weeks before the conference date, Hey, I’d like to do a multi-media version of my klepto-collaborative poem.  But, well, I’ve never actually done anything like that before.

I was pretty sure I could pull it off.  But more than anything I knew that I wanted to challenge myself, to explore new ways of narrative–of storytelling–with photos, video clips and words via the puzzle-piece mix-and-match klepto-collaborative poetry form that I’ve come to love.  The organizers said yes and an invitation went out to the speakers, volunteers and registered attendees.  Based on the theme of “Imaginate,” people were asked to fill in the blank, “I imagine a world where _____.”  And then finish the statement, “I would create it by _____.”

A few thoughtful, inspired responses arrived via e-mail, but not enough for me to really do what I do.  I sent word out to the larger TED communuity via Facebook, Twitter and email; a couple more submissions, but still not enough.  I invited everybody, then, anybody who wanted to contribute to the project.  And words began to pour in from all of the various folks I’d solicited.  In addition to the TED folks I received word-gifts from the likes of author Anthony Doerr and poet D. A. Powell, from a couple of people I know only via the reader/responder community of Ann Leary’s blog, Wicked Good Life.  People sent the invitation on to others and reposted and reTweeted.  Before I knew it, I had more than enough.  More words and images than I could ever utilize in 3 minutes of video time.

So much wordy goodness did I have to choose from that I kinda-sorta cheated, by making the video a minute longer than I’d planned or pitched.  An extra minute isn’t really that long when you think about it, right?  Anyway, I got away with it.  Mostly because everybody’s words and ideas were the shiniest kind of good you could ever hope to choose from. So if you submitted something to me and your words don’t show up in this video–stay tuned!–I’ll be putting together another klepto-collaborative video (or two) to showcase more of the voices, images & video clips sent in.

I’ll get a full list of the contributors up here as soon as I’m able.  I just really wanted to get this video posted sooner rather than later, and hunting through emails in my jam-packed Inbox would mean much “later” than I’d like. (later than you’d like, too, trust me)

 *Except for my own response to the “Imaginate” writing prompt above, none of these words are my own.  I lifted words, word pairings & phrases from the submitted responses (klepto) and crafted the collective (collaborative) poem you see here.   The video clips and photos, save 3, were shot by me or my husband Gary.

See for yourself, this beautiful thing we have imagined and created together . . .

Please feel free to write your own responses of imagining & creating in the comments section; I’d love to hear how you envision a better world for us all.  I’ll be posting the closing klepto-collaborative poem–crafted from all of the speakers at TEDxYouth@TheWoodlands–in a subsequent post.

Heartfelt fireworks & shooting star THANK YOUs to everybody who offered up their voices & visions for this project.  I feel deeply honored that you shared your colorful, fantastical, unique, lush, glorious pieces of self and story with me ~~~

Dude, That’s So Meta

From Urban Dictionary.  Meta:  a term, especially in art, used to characterize something that is characteristically self-referential.

“So I just saw this film about these people making a movie, and the movie they were making was about the film industry…”

“Dude, that’s so meta. Stop before my brain explodes.”

So I sent out a bunch of emails, Facebook messages & Tweets inviting people to participate in my klepto-collaborative poetry project for TEDxYouth@TheWoodlands.  (You’re all invited, by the way, so send me your words/images/video by midnight tonight!)

An acquaintance who’s both a writer and an attorney sent me a message last night in reply to my invite and it was marked urgent.  When I saw the little red check next to his message in my inbox I thought, Wow, he must be really excited by my project – and/or with his words and ideas – to consider his response worthy of the Danger, Will Robinson!-esque distinction.

Well, he was excited, but his email didn’t hold any word offerings for the poem.  What I found inside was indeed a Danger, Will Robinson! hands-waving brand of warning.  He’d read the klepto-collaborative poems and excerpts here on my blog and was alight with how “inventive and original” he thought them.  But, he cautioned, “You really need to get a patent of some kind on that form of poem so somebody else doesn’t take credit for your idea. Especially given that you’re Tweeting and Facebooking about it. I mean, anybody could steal your idea and run with it.”

At which point I began spewing SILK chocolate soy milk onto my computer screen.  Because, hello, the very essence of a klepto-collaborative poem is, well, STEALING.  Being warned about a swarm of nefarious potential somebodies out there in the world just waiting to pounce and poetry-form jack me is absolutely guffaw-and-silly-giggle-inducing.  I adore this guy’s well-meaning and protective intentions, I do. But, lordy, having someone steal your poetry process of kleptoing other peoples words and pharases is about as meta as it gets :0)

Beyond that, nothing would thrill me more than having anybody and everybody lifting text willy-nilly, right and left, to use in their very own klepto-collaborative poems.  So, y’all, in case I haven’t said this already – though I’m pretty darn sure I have – please, steal my klepto-collaborative poetry form to your word-lovin’ hearts’ content.  Nothing would make me happier, I double-dog swear.

Details and more examples can be found in the post How To Steal Your Way To A Stellar Poem.

 

PS, wasn’t Lost In Space the best?

PPS, aren’t patents about rights to ideas that are going to make money?  Poetry = $ = even more silly giggles & guffawing

PPSS, my writer-lawyer acquaintance gave me permission to share this story, so don’t worry, I’m not telling on him in a blog-gossipy kind of way. He asked me not to name him, though

Last but not least, I always thought it would be cool to name a dog Double, just so I could holler Double Dog, I swear! whenever he rankled me with his ways.

How To Steal Your Way To A Stellar Poem

A lot of you have been asking, so here’s a little more about how I craft a klepto-collaborative poem.

My most recent efforts (available in the previous posts) for TEDx have been created from TED Talks by writing down words, word pairings and phrases as the event is going on in real-time.  During the breaks, I use the words like puzzle pieces–whose shapes adapt to any piece they’re put next to–to juggle the text and ideas around until I have something that I like, that’s different enough from the speaker’s usage to be fresh, unexpected, inventive, and yet still hold some of the spirit and flavor of each speaker’s intent.  I only have so much time during the breaks to play with the building block puzzle pieces of text, and then after the very last speaker of the day I have to go right up to the stage and read what I’ve crafted.  All the text I’ve lifted from the last session has to be woven into the overall tapestry without any break time in which to prepare.

It’s challenging; it can even be scary; it’s always exhilarating.  It’s one of the most creative and all-out adventuresome and gloriously fun experiences that I have.

This adrenaline-zipping live-action version of klepto-collaborative evolved from the  original version of “stealing” text from the printed page, as I did with the poems of Sylvia Plath. An excerpt of which lives here.  Right under that excerpt is the basic How To, written for Ann Leary‘s Wicked Good Life blog readers who were interested in understanding how I arrived at the end product .  Which is this:

I made copies of about a dozen of my
favorite Plath poems, then took a pen and went through them
underlining word pairings, phrases, even single words, that I liked &
felt drawn to. I typed them all up and then cut them out (though you
could simply use the cut & paste feature of a word processor), then
arranged and rearranged the strips of paper on my desk – like a
flexible kind of word puzzle. Instead of a picture, the puzzle pieces
will form a story; instead of the puzzle pieces only fitting together
one right way, they will fit together in almost-endless ways. You get
to decide, in the end, which words/phrases will go next to each other,
to create images and ideas – to tell a story.

I use this as a poetry exercise when I teach, and children,
especially, really respond to the hands-on interactivity, to the wide-
openness, to the surprising mix of images and ideas that can occur.
For example, if a handful of words chosen from a text list among them,
say, black, pillow, dog and shadow – it’s common, and quite OK, for
black to end up the describing word for the dog or the shadow, even
the pillow. It gets exciting, though, when the more unpredictable
choices happen – like shadow dog or dog-black shadow. And isn’t the
idea of a pillow dog much more fun than the every day dog pillow?

Often, I’ll pair two kids, have one choose the text and write it down
on strips of pre-cut paper – then have the other kid arrange the word
puzzle into a poem. They write that poem in their notebooks, and then
the word-chooser gets to mix up and then remake those same words into
his/her own poem. They always seem to think it some kind of wonderful
magic that such different poems/images/stories can be crafted out of
the same group of words. (and, truth be told, it is magic. my favorite
kind.)

A klepto-collaborative found poem can be created using any kind of existing text, from
books to songs to newspapers to the words taken from billboards as you
pass them on a road trip (only for passengers, of course!). It can be
a therapeutic exercise, “recycling” words/phrases from your divorce
decree, or taking a stack of letters from your child and recrafting a
poem/letter/story back to them. It’s just like refrigerator poetry
magnets, except you get the freedom to steal choose the words/phrases from
any source you like.

I’ve also created poems where I both “klepto” from and “collaborate” with myself.  One such poem was published in Luna (a literary magazine I love and highly recommend) by Ray Gonzalez, a poet I greatly admire.  Having him deem any poem of mine reader-worthy was quite the thrill. (and still is, every time I think about it, if I’m being honest!)

Here’s a variation of that poem published in Luna.  What I love about this hop-scotching form is that I can create thousands of variations.  Take note of when the original given set of lines/words/ideas leaves off and the new permeations of those words begin:

O N C E

There was an immaculate home, plastic over the furniture.

There was a freckled girl, shadows along her arms.

There was a beloved dream, horses across a beach.

There was a volatile mother, a silver-plated hairbrush.

There was a forgotten dollhouse, echoes inside the attic.

There was a Bewitched lunchbox, secrets on a merry-go-round.

There was a blue closet, a flashlight beside books.

There was a beleaguered father, Jack Daniel’s by the TV Guide.

There was a blind church, Christ on her tongue.

There was a pale woman, stories behind her eyes.

There was a stray cat, grace against the window.

There was a broken promise, blood on her hands.

There was a lost baby, hope down the river.

There was a falling sky, breadcrumbs in the woods.

There was a volatile grace, plastic on her dream.

There was a Bewitched cat, a silver-plated promise.

There was a blind father, hands across tongue.

There was a dollhouse mother, echoes over horses.

There was a stray grace, blood over secrets.

There was a falling cat, a promise in a lunchbox.

There was a plastic mother, TV Guide on a merry-go-round.

There was a freckled cat, a woman by Christ.

There was a stray father, grace in the secrets.

There was a broken flashlight, horses in the church.

There was a volatile home, a hairbrush across hands.

There was a beloved baby, arms in the sky.

There was a TV Guide hope, Jack Daniel’s tongue.

There was a broken girl, a merry-go-round in her mother.

There was a Bewitched attic, horses in her lunchbox.

There was a freckled flashlight, grace inside books.

There was a beleaguered hope, secrets against the shadows.

There was a forgotten girl, breadcrumbs along Christ.

There was a Jack Daniel’s sky, stories in hands.

There was a falling home, a baby in the closet

There was a promise window, freckled beloved.

There was a blood church, the Bewitched woods.

There was a Bewitched father, broken by the mother.

There was a dollhouse mother, attic inside the woman.

There was a lost woman, blue over the baby.

There was a plastic baby, blood on the girl.

There was a pale girl, beloved by the father.

There was a forgotten father, falling across Christ.

There was a beleaguered Christ, broken over secrets.

There was a baby secret, blind inside the closet.

There was a closet girl, forgotten by grace.

There was a grace river, broken furniture.

There was a merry-go-round grace.

There was a silver-plated stray hope.

There was a window behind her tongue.

There was a pale promise in her stories.

There was a freckled sky inside the lunchbox.

There was a hairbrush behind the blind secrets.

There was a dream falling across dollhouse eyes.

There was a blind Christ in her merry-go-round arms.

There was a flashlight father inside Jack Daniel’s church.

There was a pale blue church cat beside a girl.

There was a TV Guide girl by her mother.

There was a shadows mother against her father

There was an echoes father lost across a river.

There was a blood river inside the baby.

There was a breadcrumbs baby inside the woman.

There was a sky woman inside a church.

Who was a mother.

Who was a girl.

Who was a cat.

Who was Christ.

Who was a baby.

Who was her father.

Who was the sky.

Who was.

Who was.

Who was.

***

OK, now, if you want to keep innovating from your original creation, you can also invoke Wheel of Fortune’s pantry of for-sale vowels convention and buy a few words that aren’t in your primary text.  Like this:

There was a father

whose baby girl

had pale blue freckles.

Immaculate sky

echoed

behind her dollhouse eyes.

Grace shadows

tongued

across her dreams.

Bewtiched hope

merry-go-rounded

inside her.

Forgotten secrets,

silver-plated stories,

rivered along her blood.

Her mother’s plastic hands

were like broken furniture

in the attic.

Like lost lunchboxes,

beleaguered promises,

stray fallen breadcrumbs.

Her father’s church arms

were like books

about beloved horses.

Like a cat waiting in the window,

Christ’s hairbrush,

a flashlight in after-dark woods.

***

I klepto-collaborated that poem, just now, for you–that’s how easy it is

I’ll post some more examples soon.  I hope you’ll happen upon words and phrases worth klepto-ing and “collaborate” with some writers and poets whose visions wake you up and make you want to play about with artifacts of the worlds they’ve created.

Please share your klepto-collaborative poems with me, if you’re so inclined.  I’d really, really love that ~

Look Into My Eyes

Please forgive the posting of this non-poetry-related entry from my other blog Wonky Woman On A Bent Trike.   Sometimes things are important enough to me that I need to get the word out any and every way possible.  So until I have an official website where everything can coexist happily and be sorted out on separate pages by indexing tabs, I’ll be cross-posting between blogs whenever I feel the burning desire to ubershare on an issue, about an event or person or discovery.

*cue music*

It’s my blog-verse and I’ll cross-post if I want to, cross-post if I want to!

Besides, if this dog’s eyes aren’t considered visual poetry, I don’t what would qualify . . .

I really do seem to be the pied piper to stray creatures of the four-footed fur-bearing variety.  Often I’m away from home and pretty far into my rides when I come across a seemingly-lost dog so there’s nothing to be done about it right then and there.  I have been known to go back to the dog-sighting places in my car to see if I can find a dog to bring it to the shelter, but most times the dog’s already gone or is too slippery and/or wary to be caught. This one, however, I succeeded in getting ahold of.  It was running around just a block over from my house so I had the benefit of being able to go back with a leash a couple days in a row.

He was not wary at all but he was wiggly-slippery; it also appeared as though he’d never been walked on a leash with any regularity, which made our travel a bit challenging at first.  Upon closer inspection I noticed that his nails were so long they’d grown at odd angles, causing him serious discomfort and a resulting limp that alternated between his feet as he walked.  Once I had him home, fed and watered, I saw callouses on his front legs.  Sure indicators of having been left too long and too often in a cramped space, like a crate too small for him to stand up in.  That severity of callous on a dog so young is usually the result of being in a pound or shelter where the dogs lie on concrete slabs day-in and day-out. Also of note, he still had his dew claws.  Any vet would’ve removed those at his first or second well-pup visit when he was getting the series of puppy shots, and if not then, for sure when he was neutered.  But this dog isn’t neutered, which also led to doubts about his owners.  My husband took some photos to make Found Dog flyers, but we began to wonder more and more if we wanted to advertise the finding of this dog.  I wasn’t sure his owners deserved him.

Then, two days after finding the dog, I was walking him in my neighborhood when a car pulled over to the side of the road and when I caught up a man rolled down the window and asked me, “Did you find that dog?”  I actually considered saying no, that he was my dog–but, seriously, this dog is unmistakable–so instead I answered, Yes, is he yours?  To which they responded, “Yeah, but don’t worry, we don’t want him.  We was gonna take him to the pound anyway.”  I could not have been more shocked if I’d tried.  (“flabbergasted” is the word my mother would use, which really fits better in this situation)

Why, I asked them, were they willing to give up this dog? He’s as adorable as he is beautiful.  The woman in the passenger seat leaned over and said, “When we got him he was a real tiny thing but then he growed up too big.”  At this point in our conversation, I noticed that the dog wasn’t even responding to their voices.  He didn’t seem interested in them, his official owners, in the least.  He stood by my side, leaning his weight into my leg, chewing on blades of grass every now and then.  The man went on to tell me that “Poochie” gets along great with their two boys, a toddler and a six year-old, and that he’s a “really good guard dog.”  I asked about his health and was told he was “perfect, no problems at all.”  Before they took off I got contact information for them and the name of the vet.  I asked if the couple would like me to bring the dog around so their kids could say goodbye to him.  The woman said, “We done told ‘em he was lost and prolly got hit by a car by now.”

I cannot begin to tell you how much I wish we could keep this dog.  We still have not found a home for the pit bull we rescued two summers ago and she’s a handful for this MS’d body of mine to handle.  She was severely abused and neglected and she’s only just now arriving at a place approaching wellness of mind, body and spirit.  Having three dogs is simply not an option for us.  I hate the fact of that, but it is what it is.

We’re willing to foster him until someone falls as much in love with him as we have; we’re willing to deliver him personally to the right home (in the USA), that’s how how besotted we are.  If you know my service dog Luke, this pup is more like Luke than any dog I’ve ever met, which is saying quite a lot.  Really, if you know Luke, that’s saying Everything You Need To Know.

This gorgeous, sweet-natured puppy desperately needs a forever home with someone who will love him as much as he loves squeaky balls, plush toys and lying on the couch hogging the armrest while watching TV.  He also likes to position himself half on and half off the chair by the windows–sometimes with his front paws up on the seat, other times with his butt on the chair and his front paws on the floor–pretending the world going by out there is one long, really captivating film. It sounds cliche, I know, to tell you that he’s fond of long, meandering walks but it happens to be true.  He enjoys the sunny spot on the floor in front of the french doors with a nice pressed rawhide bone in the afternoons.

But he’s happy to spend time lolling about chewing and wrestling with a bone no matter the time of day or weather.

He doesn’t like being tied out in the backyard very much (unfortunately we don’t have a fence yet) but he manages to smile through it.

He really doesn’t like being made to impersonate one of Santa’s reindeer, but he didn’t eat me or the antlers in retribution for the shame cast upon him.  (though I do believe he was growl-cursing under his breath at me)

He has the most fascinating blue eyes; photos don’t really do them justice.  Much like a Harvest Moon, the Atlantic Ocean and the Grand Canyon, you have to appreciate the live, in-person verson to get the full experience.

My guess is that he’s about 60lbs at 7 – 9 months, though he’s a mite lanky and could stand a few more pounds on his bones.

He probably has some Rhodesian Ridgeback in him.  Or maybe Great Dane.  Both?  He likes children, dogs and cats, a polyamorous sort, to be sure.  I think he’d make a great hunting or Search & Rescue dog because he tracks the pathways of every squirrel, cat, etc. that crosses our back and front yards with a passion and accuracy I’ve not witnessed since my old neighbor’s bloodhound found the familiy’s escaped parakeet in the magnolia tree three streets over.

He has the intelligence and temperament (calm, focused, eager to please) to make a great service dog; his height, in particular would lend perfectly for mobility assistance. (Luke is willing to give him a few pointers and a reference letter.)

Did I mention that he’s big?

He has a big mouth, a big voice and a big tongue, the latter of which he uses to lick our cats from the crowns of their heads to their tailbones.  A couple of the cats are willing participants in this activity, one of them not-so-much. (I keep trying to get this on video but of course they disband their inter-species trysts the minute I get the iPhone switched over to record, just to spite me & the gods of YouTube)  ((which really rankles me because I just know I could get that video played on Ellen!))

This dog is smart.  He learned to sit by both voice command and hand signal on the second day.  He now comes and sits as soon as I take the leash off the hook by the door or open the cabinet where the treats are kept.  He is very affectionate and has exquisite taste. (that’s my arm in his teeth, thanks very much)

If you’re a regular reader here you’ll remember how I discovered an entire feral cat colony this past summer.  First I became its provider of food and fresh water, and then my husband and I began trapping, spaying and neutering.  We released back the cats that appeared too wild to even think about domesticating for future adoption.  We kept six of the cats which we determined could probably be tamed.  One of those six escaped the crate and was only retrapped a couple weeks ago, so she’s behind the others in the domestication process.  Of the other five, all but one of them is pick-up-able and will roll over to give you his or her bellies to rub when being petted.  So please be in touch, too, if your home, couch and windows need some feline-ness.  (photos in the link above)

What you need to understand is, the websites I read, the vets and cat rescue folks I spoke with, my neighbors–all advised that feral cats could not be tamed: kittens, yes–adults, no.  Don’t waste your time or energy, was the overall message from the so-called experts.  I’m so glad that I’m the stubborn sort when it comes to the saving of creatures.  I’m pretty darn sure these cats are glad of that aspect of my personality, as well. Not to mention the horse-dog of a house guest who thanks and over-thanks us with licks and dancing-on-his-hind-legs greetings each and every morning.  Add to that pool of gratefulness my own, for being blessed with a husband who has a heart as big as the state of Texas, my dear, devoted co-wrangler of feral cats and stray dogs. (though he might just be considering sabotage on my trike if I keep using it as a stray-creature-discovery tool!)

We started out calling this dog Elvis because he cries when left alone in the crate.  He settles much quicker than he did at first, now that he knows we’ll always come back–that he’s not being abandoned, yet again.  The first couple nights though his cries were so mournful it just about broke me.  ”You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog, cryin’ all the time” kept playing in my head, bereft underscore to his bluesy, crooning whines.  Elvis really is a good name for him, but we soon realized that it sounded too much like Elphie, our other rescue dog’s name (short for Elphaba)–and we kept getting wrong numbers, so now we call him Presley.  Alas, Presley and Elphie still sound enough alike in their ending vowel sounds that the dogs still get a bit confused.  He’ll have a new name soon, anyway, most likely, given to him by the person, or people, who will be his family, his once-and-for-all home.  Maybe that’s you?

If not, it could be someone you know.  Please spread the word; pass on this post.  Feel free to contact me with any questions: moonspeak(at)comcast(DOT)net

I have no doubt that this blue-eyed handsome stranger–regardless of his name–will be a once in a lifetime dog for someone.  The kind of dog to which all others who come after will be compared.  And, really, can you imagine your life without this brand of goofballery in it?

I think not :0)

Are You A Poet?

Do you want to be?  I’m inviting all of you to collaborate with me!  Send me your words–-and accompanying images, if you’d like-–to be included in TEDxYouth@TheWoodlands on January 7th.

It’s as easy as fill-in-the-blank.  Just complete these two phrases: “I imagine a world where __________.  This is how I would create it: _________.”

For example, you might say, I imagine a world where everyone who might be helped by an assistance animal would have one. This is how I would create it: devise a system which networks dog rescues, foster families, trainers and veterinarians with healthcare providers and the people in need, so that rescued dogs well-suited for certain services could receive housing and training by volunteers, and then be matched–-through a nation-wide system similar to the bone marrow donor database–-with human companions they would serve.

Or you could just submit the first half of the fill-in-the-blank if you’re feeling short on time or inspiration.  “I imagine a world where __________.”  No child is hungry.  Every student has the books and supplies she needs.  No senior citizen goes without medication in order to make ends meet.  Coffee and chocolate are free.  Dogs count as passengers in the carpool lane.

Come on, let your imagination fly high and wild–create a “perfect” aspect of the world as only you envision it!  Then tell me all about it.  Email your responses to me, Denise Lanier, via moonspeak(at)comcast(DOT)net by January 3rd.  Become a part of something that we create together for TEDxYouth@TheWoodlands and for this New Year upon us in 2012.  Send your wishes out into the universe, gift-wrapped with our collective good will, ringing with our unique voices.  You never know what will happen.  At the very least, you’ll have made a shiny new piece of dream-woven art.

If you’re a new reader here and wondering what in the blue blazes a klepto-collaborative poem is, check out this one from TEDxWomen.   A klepto-collaborative poem, in essence, is a found poem.  The ones I made for TEDxTheWoodlands and TEDxWomen were crafted from the words and phrases of many speakers, reshuffled and reshaped into a new mosaic of collected voices.

You can also use this technique with a single piece of prose or poetry, or several of one author’s/poet’s works.  Which is what I did for “Listen, There Is No Mercy,” created from the poems of Sylvia Plath.   An excerpt of this poem can be found on Wicked Good Life, the blog of one of my favorite authors and a huge poetry lover, Ann Leary.  (By the way, if you’re not reading her blog–and her books!–you’re really missing out on some fine, witty writing & stellar, hilarious stories.)

I hope to begin receiving your words and images any moment now.   I’m eager to see and hear your offerings.   I’m excited to craft our word-and-vision mosaic feast of a poem for TEDxYouth@TheWoodlands.   The event is already sold out but you can still get your name on the waiting list:  if I were you and I didn’t have one of those golden tickets, that’s exactly what I’d do.   Seriously, check out this list of speakers and performers.

Also, Luke will be there, and who wants to miss an opportunity to visit with the most famous (if not the only) Poetry Dog on the planet?  In addition to his co-facilitation of many a poetry workshop, his roles as the subject of visual art and characters in narrative art, Luke was mentioned in more than one of the TED Talks at TEDxTheWoodlands this past September.   I’m telling you, he gets around, and not just because he has four really fleet feet.  He’s an uber-dog of inspiration, affection-giving, tennis-ball-fetching, good cheer-bringing; a prime representative of assistance animals performing invaluable services the world over.   Luke’s the ”it” dog of poetry *and* of TED.  Much like Zooey Deschanel’s the “it” girl of 2011′s new offerings of situation comedy.

Now, go, ponder the world as you desire it to be!  I need you as my co-conspirators and poetry partners in “crime.”  Email me with your wondrous offerings by January 3rd.

*** Oh, and please make sure you have the proper rights to use any images you send.

TEDxWomen Klepto-Collaborative Poem

The gracious & gorgeous folks of Culture Pilot, the curators of TEDxHouston, hosted a simulcast viewing of the TEDxWomen conference at Taft Street Coffee / Ecclesia Church.   This conference was an inspiring, exhilarating event.  Wow, talk about Ideas Worth Spreading!

Here’s the official description:

“TEDxWomen, a one-day event planned for December 1 at the Paley Center locations in both New York and Los Angeles, will gather global thought leaders and innovators for a cross-disciplinary program focused on how women think and work, communicate and collaborate, learn and lead –what this means and why it matters to all of us. Speakers from around the globe –including women and men, from anthropologists to artists, scientists, and futurists–will share their ideas in the classic TED format, creating a program that surprises and inspires. TEDxWomen is curated and produced by The Paley Center for Media, and hosted by the Paley Center’s President and CEO, Pat Mitchell.”

Just as I did for TEDxTheWoodlands back in September, I created a klepto-collaborative poem from the words & phrases of all the speakers, hosts, and even the TED Talk videos that were shown during breaks of TEDxWomen.  I call it a klepto-collaborative poem because, in essence, I’m “stealing” words & phrases from others; it’s collaborative because even though they weren’t aware of it, all those who crossed stage & screen for TEDxWomen contributed.

I suppose the poem will make more sense if you actually heard the Talks from TEDxWomen, though I did endeavor to craft a piece that would stand on its own, whether you had the privilege of experiencing the conference or not.  I hope I succeeded.  (I’ll let you all be the judge of that!)  Some Talks from the TEDxWomen 2011 Conference are already available online & more will be added in the weeks to follow.  They’re all amazing, trust me.

If you’ve already heard some or all of the speakers, you’ll no doubt recognize these words & phrases, as well as be reminded of the stories & ideas associated with them.  My goal with these klepto-collaborative poems is to build them up from various word-and-phrase “blocks” – lifted from the Talks & the exchanges between hosts & speakers – then reconfigure what I’ve plucked out of the mix, rearranging & shaping – like puzzle pieces whose curves & edges are malleable – finessing the various bits into a new whole.  One which still retains, but presents in a fresh way, the truth & intention of the original.

Feel free to think of this as one poem in six parts or a story with six chapters, six different poems or six separate stories.  However you take my creation in, I hope you enjoy.  Most of all, I hope that I did well in re-voicing all of the magnificent, authentic & valiant, empowered & empowering messages of TEDxWomen.  I feel tremendous gratitude for all that was shared through the conference, and for the local community of TED here in the Greater Houston area. TEDxHouston, TEDxTheWoodlands & TEDxYouth@TheWoodlands, I consider you all my compadres, my sisters & brothers in extended TED family.

This is my gift back to those speakers & hosts of TEDxWomen, to all the organizers & behind-the-scenes make-it-happen folks (including you, Culture Pilot & Taft Street Coffee/Ecclesia), to each girl & woman gathered across the globe in sisterhood, in community ~

“You Strike A Woman, You Strike A Rock”

          a Klepto-Collaborative Poem from TEDxWomen, December 1st, 2011

1.

Forget

Our collective history of

Not wanting to take up too much space

The pressure to be conventionally feminine

Accepting the presumptions of our fathers

Being popular         Starving to fit in

Tweezing      Bleaching     Botox

Painful waxing

The new social norm        Of plastic surgery

Dismiss

Trips

Across the globe     Of our bodies

In search of

A cure

Distractions

Measuring up to     Magazine covers

Myths                        Perpetrated by

Hollywood                “Real Housewives”

The industry of pornography

Ignore

The media    Consuming bad behavior

Complicit

A sense of entitlement

Handicapped with the notion that value lies in beauty

Remember

That lense                The lessons

Alarming loss

The sport      Of comparing          Devaluing

Hyper-sexualizing             Stealing innocence

Yes      The world does fall apart

Yes      History tried to crush

She caused a sensation     Sold violence and sex

What I’m here to say is

Pirates           Soldiers         History

You’re done

You are not the boss of me

Bullies

Regardless of age or gender

Culture of conformity

We’ve had enough

My sisters and I

Will bypass you      Move on

Pursue other friend opportunities

Invest in our own unique identity

The good girl

The odd girl out

Shy, sensitive and sweet creatures

Brave                        Hope

Wings folded                        Or stretched to the limits

A strange mixture of humility and daring

Declarative

They are all us

An all-female bomb squad

A new legacy

Thinking differently

Driven by a cause, a purpose, a belief

Each woman                       Beautifully designed

From the inside out

2.

Mothers and daughters and sisters

Walked into the room

Of not-good-enough

Like the sun

Broke through the glass ceiling

With their high-heels

With blood, sweat and tears

With voices raised

With an instinct to save

Crossing the chasm

Of what came before

With the radical idea

Of equality

3.

None of what I’m telling you is my opinion

After decades of

Swallowing              Abuse

You go home with something broken

Retreat into silence

Coiled ropes at the edges of nothing

A vast horizon

Of isolation

Subliminal              Epidemic

Hungry        Haiku

Of invisible question marks

Rooted

You wake up

Infected

Pregnant with        Dark matter

Folding on itself

Giving birth to

Dark energy

Nightmares             And self doubt

A kind of kryptonite

How many Generations of girls are

Tragically scarred                        Misdiagnosed

Suffering consequences of resistance

A sense of invisibility Like an oil spill

Voices constantly saying

Be nice          Be pretty

Be seen but not heard

Be sexy and skinny

But not too smart

Not too fast

Which transitions into

Unexploded ordinance

We all carry with us

Pass on to our daughters and granddaughters

Party favors

Parting gifts

Disguised

As a fishing vessel

A bottle of poison

A refugee camp

A couple of little spikes

An assembly line

The first apple I ever tasted

4.

Women of hope       Begin to rule

Imminently qualified

Burning up with a fever

Awaken        Chosen

Wings extended

Women of change

It’s time to    Pilot the plane

Write your own stories

Believe in our glorious     Female pattern

A rich iron mine

Gravitational attracting            Bending the curve

Achieve this tipping point

Personal relationship with the heart

A huge pot of soup which we all share

Nourished    With belief

You’re not helpless

You’re someone

You’re just fine

Darling          Free yourself

March with generations of women

On the mall in Washington

Become advocates of

The magic of existence that is us

Showing up united

Our militia   Of change

Dance with joy, dance with love

On the frontiers of possibility

With occasional graffiti

That gift from the boat

A dream speech

A higher authority

Of compassion

Of community

Girls and women

Great oracle Golden circle

The scale of the night sky

Bow dipping into each wave      Of speaking out

Defying fiction

Telling one another the story

Mother of invention

Never let me forget

Plant me       Marvel

I’m here to stay

Here’s a human heart

Powerful       Origami

Beyond comprehension

Connecting all of us

Take ahold of that small hand

Never let go

Believe, believe, believe

5.

Lo and behold, look what’s happening

With girls all over the world

Lo and behold

All over the world

Girls

Happening

Behold,          Girls

The world

6.

Come, say goodbye                        To our shared history

Of soldiers at the break of dawn

Pirates at midnight                      And mockingbirds

Shed the voices       Of the past

Of patriarchy                     Misogyny

The roles       Of restriction

Subjugation

We can fix our own

Broken          Wings

Don’t leave me up here all by myself

Make that journey                        Walk the line

We can’t afford to wait

I welcome you         To the rebirth

Look to the woman on your left

Look to the woman on your right

Take her hand

Side by side

We can          Wish

Leap forward                       Take flight

Create a brand new story

Talking about a child

A little girl climbing a tree

A poet, a playwright, a teacher, a politician, a neurobiologist

Capacity to imagine                     Freedom

Interwoven              In the bloodstream

Listen                        This will protect the heart

We are not hopeless

This    Is the revolution

We are pioneering our     Evolution

Exploring     The fertile void

Nurturing   The upward ascension of the human spirit

Girls are the solution

Cure for        The old paradigm

Their authenticity                        Their passion

Is the beginning of the beginning

The reverse of         The so-called          Golden rule

Let’s see them safely through

Build an alliance   With the young leaders of today

Spread the word     We are one village

One tribe      One blood

Remember   The 17 year-old activist in South Africa

Fighting for equality

Fighting

Not for a life of ease                       Or for technology

But for the privilege of education

Her name is Busisiwe

Which, translated, means Bliss

Busisiwe Mkhumbuzi is a woman & a name I will never forget.  The title of this poem, “When you strike a woman, you strike a rock,” comes from her Talk, and I dedicate this poem to her.   She’s a mover & shaker with VGirls (inspired by the life & work of the incomparable Eve Ensler).  If you don’t know about this global network of women & girl activists & advocates, my bet is you’re gonna wanna kiss me (or at least Luke’s fluffy golden head) for turning you on to the way VGirls is changing the world we live in.  Please, spread the word!

I invite you, in the Comment/Response space below, to compose a klepto-collaborative poem of your own from my poem or directly from the TEDxWomen Talks. I welcome you to share your story, the stories of girls & women in your life, your community and/or across the globe. I’m always hungry for inspiring stories, and though I don’t always remember to explicitly invite you, please know that you’re always welcome here (and on my other blog, if you frequent that as well) to give feedback, share stories, ask questions, provide links to relevant issues/stories/organizations/people of note. Don’t be shy, OK?

 

For more examples of my klepto-collaborative poetry, go here.  Feel free to be in touch if you’d like to learn more about the process, or if you’d like for me to come do a klepto-collaborative poem as a valedictory capstone to your event.

*** The circling, dancing goddess images in this post are from a painting by my beloved sister-friend Peggy Peyton.  She is an artist, a mentor, a woman of  genuine insight, inspiration & compassion.  It’s so perfect to have Peggy’s art showcased in a post about the strength & resilience of girls & women. It’s even more perfect to pair her creation with my own, because she’s one of the women who most helped me find my voice as a young woman and encouraged me to claim it through the creative expression of prose & poetry. She – along with her handsome, devoted husband Bob, who I’m also lucky to call my dear friend – has always championed the raising of my voice, both artistic and otherwise. I’m blessed to have Peggy and the visual poetry of her art in my life. I’ve known her over two decades of laughter-laced friendship, and I pray for many more decades of art, stories & laughter over tables spread with simple, good nourishment, dogs begging for treats at our feet.

TEDxWomen is about what girls & women can accomplish when we come together, so it’s fitting that I celebrate the spirit of women united by sharing a little bit with you about a connection that has made me stronger & more resilient, more of who I am & who I’m meant to become. I’m sure you have someone like Peggy in your life. But if you don’t, the TED community is a perfect place to find a woman to befriend, to be mentored, and to mentor.

Houston Peeps, If You Love Poetry . . .

Thanks to the invitation of performance poet Savannah Blue, I have the immense privilege of serving as a judge for The Bayou City Poetry Grand Slam, held this evening from 8 – 10PM at MECA - whose mission it is to bring all kinds of arty goodness, mentoring, tutoring & counseling to our city’s under-served youth - in Houston’s Historic District (the Old Sixth Ward), at 1900 Kane Street, 77007. As a native Houstonian, and for other other reasons too, this neighborhood holds a special place in my heart.

This event is billed as the first major poetry slam in Houston, and will bring over 20 nationally known and ranked slam poets together to compete for a first place cash prize of $1,000, a second place prize of $500 and a third place prize of $250. You can read a bit more about the evening from Free Press Houston.

Buddy Wakefield is going to be there.

He’s somebody you absolutely have to see and hear in person. He’s also got one of the most artful and entertaining web sites I’ve ever come across.

Tickets are only $10!  To purchase Tix & see an interactive Map, go HERE. You can also purchase tickets at the door for $15. Heck, I think a chance to visit with Luke the poetry dog is worth 15 bucks alone

and getting to watch Buddy Wakefield perform  is worth thrice the ticket price–but you’ll get ALL of the live-action excitement and word-gorgeousness of this amazing poetry slam to boot. What. A. Deal.

Come on out tonight, Houston Spoken Word & Poetry lovers–You’ll be so glad you did!!!

Do You Have a Jetpack Yet?

Here’s a collaborative writing adventure for you, based on a method called exquisite corpse. I created this one for a TEDxTheWoodlands alumni gathering a couple weeks ago. It’s actually a variation of the version I made for my WordPlay workshop for kids, and the topic of travel via jetpack was the greatest generator of both visual and word art I’d ever encountered with my students.

Maybe they were inspired by the Sci-Fi nature of personalized jet-propulsion energy. Perhaps the fact that I led into the writing exercise describing the TED Talk about this guy and his jetpack invention  & then played Jill Sobule’s song, “If I Had a Jetpack,” was what uber-energized the children’s creativity. I’m not really sure, but I do know I’d never witnessed them as on-fire to draw and write and collaborate with one another as they were on Jetpack Day.

You can check out my previous post with some of writing and drawings HERE.

 

Get with one or more friends. Fill in the blank of the first line, then fold over the paper so that your filled-in line can’t be seen & pass the paper to the person next to you. The next person does the same. Keep filling in blanks, folding the paper, passing it on. You can fill in two lines at a time to make the process go faster, if you wish. The person who fills in the final blank/line of the page becomes the reader of that piece of collaboration. Go around the group and read aloud each page of Jetpack Wordy Adventure!

 

 

If I had a Jetpack my first long-distance travel destination would be __________.

The last place I’d want to accidentally land is __________.

If I could take someone else with me in a Jetpack tandem ride it would be __________.

The individual I’d never want to be strapped next to is __________.

In fact if I were stuck with her/him, I might just have to __________.

If I could time travel to the past with my Jetpack I’d go back to __________.

I’d hate to have technical difficulties & accidentally end up in __________.

If I could time travel to the future with my Jetpack I’d go to __________.

I’d be most afraid of discovering __________.

If I got lost Jetpacking I know ___________________________ would come to my rescue.

If I were injured in a Jetpack crash I’d hate to lose function of my __________.

If I were to die from my injuries the person who’d miss me most is __________.

I’d want to be remembered as the person who always __________.

But I’m afraid I might be remembered as the person who never __________.

TEDxTheWoodlands

I had the privilege of giving a mini TED Talk this past weekend where I shared a bit about my experiences creating this poetry in the schools project, handed out some Moo MiniCards with yummy-delicious kid poems on them, and invited anyone in the TEDxTheWoodlands community interested in coming together to create a similar initiative to be in touch with me.

At the end of the conference day, I did something I haven’t done in a really long time. I performed a poem. And not just any poem, mind you, but a klepto-collaborative poem, a mash-up of the words & ideas of the speakers & host of the day. Something from everyone who crossed the stage at TEDxTheWoodlands was included. I call it a klepto-collaborative poem because, in essence, I’m “stealing” words & phrases from others. It’s collaborative because even though the speakers weren’t aware of it, they all contributed.

I think I’ve perhaps invented this term, but who knows? Mash-ups are certainly not a new idea, we hear them with music all the time and we’ve seen them using video clips, perhaps most commonly at awards shows. Have you ever read or heard a mash-up of poetry? If you have, let me know, I’d love to hear about it!

I’ll post the link to the text & video of our TEDxTheWoodlands klepto-collaborative poem as soon as it’s available for viewing. And here’re my amazing co-volunteers who collaborated in crafting and carrying out the inaugural TEDxTheWoodlands.

In the meantime, hit me up if you live in the Greater Houston & Galveston areas and want someone to come share wordy goodness with your school or youth group. I volunteer my time, but my service dog Luke charges a small fee: at least 3 dog treats per session for his obviously-hard work (pictured below).

I swear, his participation, his engagement, his level of focus & ready/willingness is key to my poetry-teaching.

This is Luke’s ninja pose.

I know, I know, he looks like he’s sound asleep. But he’s actually waiting to pounce upright into his famous applause-dance. A delightful tail-wagging celebration caused by fantabulous phrasing, psychedelic imagery, flights of poetic fancy & daring. Luke even has his own calling cards!

He’s very proud of them, and performs random taste-sampling to ensure their quality.

Speaking of which, here’s someone who inspires me with her passionate poetic way: Sarah Kay.  It’s too late for me to be like her when I grow up, but I’d love to help grow the next generation of poetic voices as a teacher, mentor, and gardener of word-&-imagination lovers ~

I hope to grow an 826Houston or at least something 826like. If you don’t know what I mean by that, you need to check out 826Valencia & 826National. Dave Eggers’ Once Upon a School is what inspired me to create my poetry in the schools project back in Florida. I heard his TED Prize wish talk and it changed the trajectory of my post-graduate “career.” I had planned to do what many–if not most–writers do after securing their MFAs: teach. In fact I’d already secured my first job as an adjunct Professor of English at Broward Community College and was teaching Composition courses. But when I began WordPlay, teaching creative writing to kids, my plan of seeking a tenure-track teaching job dissolved.

Once I was standing in a classroom of 3rd graders crafting penciled word-journeys on pale blue-lined notebook paper it was obvious what I wanted to do. And after I attended the 2009 TED conference in Palm Springs–the tuition was a scholarship awarded to me for creating a project that best honored the spirit of Dave Eggers’ TED Prize wish–I knew that I would never again teach English Comp to college Freshman. I don’t have anything against college students or college English professors–what I’m saying is I realized that the creative part of writing, the kind of writing that grows from imagination & experience, writing whose purpose is story & connection rather than research, facts and information–that’s where my passion lies.

Or I should say, that’s where my passion LIVES.

Creative writing wakes children up; it fuels them; it flips a switch, transforming them from passive to active agents. They are hungry for story, our young people, and given time and opportunity, a well-stocked pantry of tools & ingredients, a little guidance–they are fabulous chef’s of story. All I want to do is hang out in the kitchen with them and talk & cook & eat & cook some more. Because every single experience of that shared creation is Thanksgiving to me.

When you read the things they write, the narratives they concoct & the realms they conjure, you’ll want to have more than your fill as well. Heck, you might even want to come with your pan (pen) and cook (write) with us someday!