Poems from the Bunker
Photo by Tim Mossholder
The final lines from a poem by Dori Midnight about something we are all doing a lot of right about now - washing your hands:
I hope you'll read the whole poem. If you need convincing, I can tell you it makes reference to both Beyoncé and Grace Lee Boggs. What else do you need?
Photo by Jimmy Ofisia
"A Love Poem for the Apocalypse" by Charles Darkly
A college professor reflects on the ruptures to campus life and social distancing happening across the country.
But, as students get ready to say goodbye to one another, maybe for a long time, it seems a special kind of irony that they’re not supposed to come into contact. Not a hug, not even a handshake. The old ways of holding your body in relation to another person must, apparently, be redesigned, and under conditions in which a show of personal warmth or connectedness seems especially crucial. I keep thinking of Keats’s makeshift sign-off in what is known as his “last letter”: “I can scarcely bid you good bye, even in a letter,” he writes. “I always made an awkward bow.”
Status Board
Reading: Lots of short, interesting readings on worker cooperatives from Community Wealth.
Writing: It's back to a teacher education article I put down for a bit to meet some other writing deadlines. What a heavy lift: picking an article back up that you haven't sat with for a while.
Listening: Dope Tracks To Jam To by six-piece Detroit Trap-Jazz instrumental band Jean Gucciux. I keep these tracks in regular rotation for writing sessions.
Making: I chopped some samples and made a beat this week. I even summoned my inner DJ Premier to put some cuts over it. Wait for the change up....