Category: Poetry
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Say: writing
Take your pen, light it like a cigarette, brace it between your fingertips say: Writing is proof I am not alone, proof I am not standing outside so many closed doors for nothing proof even my voice is a torch sometimes, hope chimes on the porch sometimes, even wind smells like home.
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Slack Tide – A Rachel/Claire collaboration
SLACK TIDE | Rachel van Blankenship from Claire Beynon on Vimeo. Claire created this wonderful video of my reading “Slack Tide” Go to her blog as well as she writes a beautiful story of how it all came together… Thank you, Claire.
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Sunday Mexican Market, Phoenix
Balanced between banana leaves and Jamaica drying in bins like small, netted squids I remember the guts it took to kiss you. I was 18 years old not even drunk rushing up your neck like a little girl through summer sprinklers – my polka dot bathing suit instantly wet. What a rush. Hold my hand.…
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Bluebird
My friend, Lindsey is in grad school and did this video project for class. It’s just a simple, beautiful little video and she’s reading my poem Bluebird which has a lot of meaning for both of us. It’s pretty cool to hear someone else reading one of my poems. I really want to start doing…
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Surgery (Audio)
I’m hoping to maybe make some video poems in the future, but for now here’s some audio of a newly hatched poem I posted yesterday. Surgery
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Surgery
All it takes is one person who believes you’re more than you are. We were never meant to see love clearly. We were meant to collide – a body against a wave. I’m always so hungry. Sometimes, I gaze over an 8 story building just to feel like God. Sometimes, I look at you. You…
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Slack Tide
“A doctor told me once, I feel too much. I said so does God, that’s why you can see the Grand Canyon from the moon,” Andrea Gibson from Jellyfish —- When I was a girl, we’d camp by the ocean and once, I waded into the water, cutting my foot on a shell. From that…
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Sing-along
I recorded this in 2008 – how old was I 24? I wrote a lot of music when I was living in Texas. My life existed at night. I would wake up at noon and go to sleep at 4am just in time for the birds to help me to sleep. This was a very…
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Shifting Gears
Shifting Gears Sun drifts behind the hills like a lonely traveler packing light. Staring after him, I stand next to mom shading my eyes to see how long he walks horizon’s trail – his image shrinks and frays. I try to imagine where Dad is, what road – if he’s passed the Wonder Bread factory…