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    Archived pages: 770 . Archive date: 2014-01.

  • Title: Woman Made Gallery: Poetry & Prose
    Descriptive info: AUCTIONS.. POETRY & PROSE.. Nicole.. Alger.. P O E T R Y P R O S E.. Icons - 12/07/08.. St.. Therese Meets Giuseppina.. at the Bedroom Shrine.. Donna Pucciani.. 2008.. Black-veiled, brown-robed, with strawberry lips.. and wimberry eyes and hands full of roses,.. you stand a foot tall on the nightstand.. alongside St.. Francis, a bird on his left shoulder,.. Jesus, his actual heart exposed and beating.. in arterial splendor, and Mary in chipped blue robes.. that need a good dusting.. Your face, sweetest of all,.. and your body, its votive lamp lit at your sandals,.. cast winglike shadows on the stucco walls.. Nana, who hasn t been to church in years,.. brushes her remaining teeth with salt, braids her hair.. with rags in a fuzzy, thin coronet, dons a clean apron.. softened by the years, and pads into the front bedroom.. to pray at her homemade altar.. Although you are not Italian,.. Nana loves you best because you promised a shower.. of roses after coughing yourself to death at Carmel.. Daily she waits for your thornless benediction.. She peers into mothballed chests of linens,.. closets  ...   children s underwear and Grandpa s.. white shirts.. Such wealth the saints would disdain.. She should be rubbing a washboard in San Donato,.. a village of stones and goats.. But --.. Madonna mia --.. maybe the washer is a blessing, the figs, the eggplant.. She must not tell Grandpa.. She thinks of marinara,.. Parmegiana, cavatelli, Provolone, raining down.. from heaven in a cascade of red and white,.. pasta and sauce, gnocchi with Bolognese,.. that together bloom the blushing color of buds.. Her blue eyes blur with cataracts and devotion.. She smiles into her gums and levitates.. over 59th Street, gliding above Bergenline Avenue.. with its cages of rabbits and hens, produce markets,.. bolts of fabric and vats of pickled mushrooms.. West New York becomes Lisieux, calico turns to Alencon lace.. She crosses herself, kisses the medals at her neck,.. hears Grandpa downstairs opening the chianti.. Candles and darkness merge in the flicker.. of wordless wax.. And now, in the kitchen,.. stuffing artichokes with breadcrumbs and cheese,.. she sees only bunches of your petalled pink.. blossoming in her garlic-scented hands.. Dec.. 12, 2008.. Site Design & Maintenance by..

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  • Title: Woman Made Gallery: Poetry & Prose
    Descriptive info: Jean.. Nerenberg.. the news.. Erin Teegarden.. the diagnosis says: you are not invincible, you.. smeller of dope and soap filled hallways, you.. smiler for trick snakes and stickers on name plates;.. even if you mind your pills and pillows, you ll still.. wind up deader than heath ledger, will still go.. extinct like the drinking train cars, will still be.. forgotten  ...   passing pretty girl.. so quit screwing around and let the mothers speak --.. they don t give reasons, but insist we happen for them,.. insist the heart is greater than a boxing glove; suggest.. our cells are circular like the planet, the clock, the.. thoughtful head.. and consciousness is what pushes us.. anyway, thru the dirt, the dark dream, to roses..

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  • Title: Woman Made Gallery: Poetry & Prose
    Descriptive info: Martha.. Zackey.. Drawing on Experience - 7/20/08.. An Introduction.. WMG.. Experienced poets read their work on Sunday, July 20, from 2 to 4 p.. at Woman Made Gallery, in conjunction with the.. Drawing on Experience.. exhibit on display from June 27 to July 24, 2008.. Featured poets included Ellen Wade Beals, Mary Kathleen Hawley, Allison Joseph, Lauren Levato, Patricia McMillen, Kristy Odelius, and Judith Valente, along with poet hosts Nina Corwin and Kathleen Kirk.. The poetry reading was attended by an appreciative audience.. Please read comments by Bill Harrison on.. his website.. Aug.. 25, 2008..

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  • Title: Woman Made Gallery: Poetry & Prose
    Descriptive info: Eileen.. Downes.. Boy Crazy.. Patricia McMillen.. If it wasn't this one, copping a feel.. beside the rusty push mower.. in my father's garage, then that.. one, maybe, bending to pull up socks.. that had slipped inside his loafers while I sat feeling foolish in too much lip gloss  ...   Kennedy was shot.. Or, as Jill said, maybe we'd meet.. someone when we got to high school.. in three years.. Mom said Quit.. asking, but I couldn't tell whether she.. was really busy, or just didn't know.. published in Willow Review 2008 (College of Lake County, Grayslake, Illinois)..

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  • Title: Woman Made Gallery: Poetry & Prose
    Descriptive info: Phyllis.. Gillie Jaffe.. Transported.. Ellen Wade Beals.. 2007.. Riding home from.. the orthodontist.. on the crowded.. Lawrence Avenue bus,.. my body swaying to its stops.. and lurches, holding.. the sweaty metal pole,.. I stood before.. an old man,.. his gray cement eyes.. set on me so.. I smiled,.. imagining I.. was brightening his day,.. until he looked at me square.. and pronounced,.. "Idiot.. ".. published in "After Hours".. Sep.. 19, 2008..

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  • Title: Woman Made Gallery: Poetry & Prose
    Descriptive info: Suzanne.. Keith Loechl.. From Sham to Shame - 2/11/07.. Liu Minghe Speaks.. On September 9, 2001, The New York Times featured a front page article describing the plight of people in China incarcerated under dubious circumstances as a result of China's strike hard campaign continued through 2003.. One of those wrongfully convicted to face death, but finally released after lengthy appeals�thanks, in large part, to his former party connections�was Lui Minghe.. His story inspired this poem.. This poem first appeared in The Journal, Spring/Summer 2003.. Francisco Aragon.. A hyena upon an animal still breathing, he questioned me.. I was told it would last for days.. His voice clutched my frozen heart.. My lungs burned my temples throbbed night revolving my eyes.. A silent tribe of spiders began spinning a web in my brain.. Bells occasionally howled homeless spirits endlessly moaning.. I was handcuffed to a window, so I stood, or hung from my wrists.. Several of my lower  ...   a bowl.. I ate fever with my watery vegetables.. For sixteen months my hands and feet were shackled.. I slept on boards, or on the ground a book.. Les Poetes Maudis my pillow, my only companion.. My skin was ravaged with mud, my armpits full of worms.. Enormous province whose sky is flecked with fire and mud.. Weighing on me like a lid.. Pouring down days as dark as nights.. Sometimes the rain mimicked the bars.. Funeral processions, no drums, no music filed slowly inside me.. Hope wept, stabbing its stalk in my skull.. Sometimes I saw in the sky endless beaches.. I tried to invent new flowers, new tongues, new stars.. Fear and suffering evaporating in the air.. The hallucination of words.. On my hospital bed that smell comes back to me still.. I have dyed my hair black to erase those years.. From Sham to Shame - 2/11/07Her Mark 2004 Release Party & Reading - 10/19/03..

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  • Title: Woman Made Gallery: Poetry & Prose
    Descriptive info: Mary Jo.. Bowers.. Police Dog.. published by Momotombo Press in 2006.. Paul Martinez Pompa.. 2006.. it's all just.. play to wrap.. your mouth.. around a man's.. wrist barely.. break skin.. to growl tug.. hold on till.. the officers.. arrive only then.. do things.. get serious.. June 25, 2007..

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  • Title: Woman Made Gallery: Poetry & Prose
    Descriptive info: Karen.. Rechtschaffen.. The Massa of Mount Misery.. Mars Caulton.. (1).. On a Maryland plantation two men are face to face:.. Edward Covery, notorious slavebreaker, and Frederick Douglas, young and enslaved.. Mount Misery they called this place where resistant enslaved folk were sent.. Torture the body to break the spirit -- but on Douglas it made not a dent.. A nation that profits from slavery will justify torture of those who resist.. Righteous and rmembered are those who say No, from outspoken white abolitionists to.. Underground Railroad porters and safehomes to those who ran away or dared to read.. No torture, no law could break Douglas, who changed the world once he fled Mount Misery.. (chorus:).. People get ready, get up, up.. there's no time to waste.. They're mopping the decks of old slaveships with our minds.. and that's a disgrace.. They're holding our souls at the barrel of a gun.. If you're silent, they've already won.. Take back your mind, get off your knees, and.. Bring down Mount Misery.. (2).. In a conference room at Guantanamo, Donald Rumsfeld ends his day.. of giving briefs and signing memos that make inhumane okay.. Rape, isolation, a month of sleep deprivation, legal now if called Interrogation.. Don't  ...   "a no-brainer.. Photos that shocked us from Abu Ghraib are acceptable three years later.. A nation who sends young soldiers off to torture never thought Alyssa would refuse.. Put your yellow ribbons on the stacks of naked prisoners humiliated and sexually abused.. Righteous and remembered are those who say No: Ehren Watada's just the first one who wouldn't go.. Free Josh Wolf and Jail Cheney, give his "no-soul" self some Mount Misery.. (4).. A FOX reporter volunteers for waterboarding, then says it wasn't that bad.. UCLA students watch an Arab classmate tasared but don't.. Rush Limbaugh says the soldiers at Abu Ghraib just "had a good time," "blowing off some steam.. The brigadeer general there says inmates had it so good they might not want to leave.. A nation that believes everything they read makes 9/11 a Pearl Harbour.. Muslims and Arabs are the new Japanese, and Detention Camps now do torture.. Righteous and remembered are the ones who say No.. Fight back today, it'll be too late tomorrow.. They'll pick us off one by one, don't you see, we're all enslaved on Mount Misery.. Generations are known by the freedoms they lose or win.. Our children won't forget whether we fought, or gave in..

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  • Title: Woman Made Gallery: Poetry & Prose
    Descriptive info: Pamela.. Callahan.. The Torturer's Apprentice.. Maureen Tolman Flannery.. On this planet of the sun.. among the signs of bestiality.. a clear conscience is Number One.. Wislawa Symborska.. He went to daily mass to pray, ask.. that he be worthy to cleanse the souls of sinners.. before they died in Satan's grasp.. From cultivated stance of righteous piety.. he criticized siblings for any non-compliance.. with his high expectations of Christian behavior,.. preached truths of heaven and hell,.. suspicious always that evil was creeping.. into thoughts and deeds of his fellow youths.. Being still too young to present himself,.. he side-stepped his way into the profession.. by observing the infliction of pain.. Confident that he too could do it, he trapped rats.. and devised inventive ways to make them emit.. that high-pitched squeal, even built a wheel.. where the limbs of stray dogs who blundered.. into a cul-de-sac could be whacked.. to rubbery mass and braided through,.. strung up to yelp their pitiful hours away.. like the witches in the square's weekly wheelings.. where he could watch how the muscled men of God.. crushed criminal limbs with the wheel's iron rim.. before threading them through the spokes.. like ribbons of a Maypole.. He talked to the priest about his calling,.. of how many late nights he lay awake.. thinking of the vocation.. and ways of making the sorcerer pay,.. of swaying  ...   prevent.. any movement of the heathen's head.. but allow him still to murmur the words.. of recantation with a fervor of one.. about to be saved from the enslavement of hell.. It required slow, excruciating pain.. that the sinner confessing might know what God expected,.. would feel what hell deals out to the unrepentant;.. paced hours, days for the grace of remorse.. to flow into open wounds before gangrene.. or the silencing blow of a skilled beheader.. Better the skull-splitter, breast-ripper.. or a vest of iron barbs.. The five clean wounds of Christ.. were too good for the likes of these.. Let them see where heretical thoughts will lead.. He watched from the doorway as the silversmith.. crafted elegant reliquaries for the bones of holy martyrs.. Nearby the ironsmith forged with the same precision.. those beautiful tools of the torturer's trade, Spanish spider.. and the ingeniously expanding vaginal pear.. He hung around the palace of the Grand Inquisitor.. when the holy court was not convened.. His mentor would read to him from the manual.. the.. Constitutio Criminalis.. ,.. complex details he memorized with relish.. number of knots in the tether,.. the prescribed length of nails, of screws,.. degrees of mutilation for each offense of the accused.. When at last he felt ready.. he asked the priest to speak for him.. to those who would know where he could go..

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  • Title: Woman Made Gallery: Poetry & Prose
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  • Title: Woman Made Gallery: Poetry & Prose
    Descriptive info: Mary.. Phelan.. Her Mark 2004 Release Party & Reading - 10/19/03.. Of fire and rain.. Natasha Carrizosa.. 2003.. xiutecuhti ignited my mother's soul.. with a fiery kiss.. she -- tefnut, arranged a clandestine affair.. beneath an azure sky.. and i?.. was born of an amethyst rain.. created from an unparalleled union.. un amor de fuego.. behind the cafe-colored mosaic of my eyes.. rays of sun shine.. able to calm the most fierce of seas.. it lies in the taste of  ...   my breasts are caramel-colored dreams.. that have made the gods curse their fate.. the span of my hips, the softness between my thighs.. is the valley of kings and therein.. the secrets of love and war lie.. the mightiest of warriors have surrendered.. to a desire so pure and shameless.. longing to conquer.. queriendo probar la vida do los reyes.. yo soy un sueno, llena de pasion y poder.. born of an aztec fire and an egyptian rain.. Oct.. 21, 2003..

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  • Archived pages: 770