Significant publication

Happy to announce that Soflopojo.com has really helped my love life have more meaning, but a poem much meaning,”Ready to be Rocked in Shawsheen”

 

(soon to be in my next collection of poetry: Shawsheen Memorial Broom  Society 

(cover design by artist Selwyn Rodda)

Shawsheen Memorial Broom society.jpg

has been published, here is the content of that poem:

 

Thylias Moss & Bob Holman    
Ready to be Rocked  (in Shawsheen) Thylias Moss & Bob Holman

Ready to be Rocked  (in Shawsheen)

I am always ready to be rocked, always prepared
and have been ready, at least, since my mother was pregnant and
I rocked with each step she took, movement
of amniotic fluid my first

swimming lessons

And then my father walked with me the moment I was born, Mt. Sinai corridors and the sound of
his footsteps, rhythms of that

recognized first time I heard Michael Jackson’s Rock with Me, so I did
and I am still dancing  and

prepared to rock with his music and you

those Rock’em Sock-em robots rocking each other, rock a bye Dream Baby, rock
a by bye bye but that dawn chorus waking me to your existence, all night in your arms

for the rest of my life,  that last dance with you is rocking  its way

and I am prepared to shimmy my way permanently

into your life where you are ready to welcome me with open arms as they always are don’t forget

I know rocking  you quite well

While you are with me

while I become that earthquake I was in 1993,

preparing then for what I wanted to be:  new kind of earthquake rocking the world of you, the
whole earth of you, my baby in a cradle you all the while naming me:  your rescuer and lover
your Dream Baby; I am prepared to be rocked like that, my whole world as long as I rock with
you. Don’t you

worry ’bout a thing’

in this downing Love Supreme

most certainly I  am prepared, just as all of my ancestors are
leading to me rocking with you

even our shadows rock, their sleek gray presence emblazoned on every world still standing and
that falling rocks build themselves into monuments of me rocking with you, on repeat, repeating
eternity

—such sustenance—

even those falling rock zones all the way to Cowan, Tennessee.  Sometimes
we had to pull over, unless we were to be pummeled by what fell from the sky
with concerns to what any of us dreamed.  I didn’t live in Tennessee,

but some of my ancestors did, some born there but one of my paternal ancestors immigrated
from many locations, rocking from Uttar Pradesh, rocks fell all the time, eruptions you know,

restless

center of the earth: centering with you, rocking all the way

some locations unknown to build those railroads that rocked train cars on their way to and from
Saskatchewan, rocking the cargo until it had to catch its dream of breath those babies that hung
​from the ceiling you often are for me; I am as ready to rock with you as I have been for years.

dancing into daylight,

prepared for all of this

right now.

Rock on this first draft of many more days of rocking
with you  under covers, baby dreams becoming all they can.

I will not

leave you, H; you will not rock

alone.

Thylias Moss is 65, has had 14 books published and has won some significant awards, including a MacArthur Genius Grant and two nominations for The National Book Critics Circle award, but she is most proud of Falling in Love with the man, a Spoken Word Artist,  Mr. Bob Holman, who the poem is about. Love is not just for the young.  Forthcoming  is a collection of Poetry Shawsheen Memorial Broom Society in which Mr. Bob Holman, is the Primary Collaborator, and other collaborators are her son and her stuffed animal mammoth.

Bob Holman’s  poetry has traversed genres, styles, and media since the 1970’s, when he began Directing Poets Theater Productions by Mayakovsky, Artaud, O’Hara and Others at St. Marks Church.  He is 71 and has published 16 books including Sing This One Back to Me.  Catch him at his Bowery Poetry Club in Manhattan. He is also a primary Collaborator in the collection of poetry, Shawsheen Memorial Broom Society by Thylias Moss, a collection that perhaps this promoter will also promote.

and here is the link: <https://www.southfloridapoetryjournal.com/poems-may-2019.html>

 

and here’s a link to me reading the poem to my man:

 

 

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5p8XDSkZZE8&t=9sz.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5p8XDSkZZE8&t=9sz.

Thingdom Reigns
My primary collaborator and I Love him very much.  Since 2014.

 

Progress; much progress.

First of all, it gives  me much pleasure to announce that “SHAWSHEEN MILKWEED ETERNAL ONE-TAKE HARVEST” a poem from this collection, yes, a poem for and about my thing as listed on the cover, Mr. Bob Holman, is going to be published in Vassar Literary Review! this poem was written to him, in text messages,

 

–and Vassar has also requested high resolution versions of my graphic poems. I hope to be able to send these very soon!

\

I and Limited Fork Theory  have a very special relationship with Vassar College 

on account of my  giving the Elizabeth Bishop lecture there in 2009, a triumph of Limited Fork Theory to be dedicated to the visit and I made  a whole website  the entire Vassar Community’s receptiveness to it, how moving the vent was and a triumph to what can happen when we are willing to approach art with fear:

The MidHudson Taffy Company“. my son was there to see the entire event unfold!

 

Laytial

 

IMG_0930Facebook, Uncle sam Bob

 

 

 

New Publication

Many of you may know that I Love my primary Collaborator,Mr. Bob Holman,

but you have no ides how much I love this man, and Always will.

 

IMG_5321Well,  the exciting news is that  poem I wrote for him in response to an announcement he made in his role as a promoter, my poem: “Ready to Be Rocked in Shawsheenis soon be published in South Florida Poetry Journal

 

I am especially glad to have this publication of the poem as he ans type will be able t both see  and hear me read it to him.

 

IMG_5413  my forthcoming poem directly responds to something he said  about an upcoming event at his Club in Manhattan: Prepare to Be Rocked! my poem merely expresses the degree of my preparation for I am always available to rock with him as I hope poem proves.

 

Another shot  of me in his  hat:

 

THYLIAS MOSS IN Thomas's HAT

 

I Love MY hat!

 

I can’t resist sharing here  two of my  favorite photos of him, yes; I am 65 and hero 71, but I find him incredibly sexy.

Bob Holman Howl
The man I Love

 

 

Bob Holman smiling

We rock with Real Love every time we Rock and I am prepared for Real Love with him:

 

 

and  of course, I started  preparing with Michael Jackson, “Rock With You“, H:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poem accepted: Ready to be Rocked in Shawsheen

 

It is my distinct honor to reveal that another Shawsheen poem has been accepted for publication, a poem that is indeed a collaboration with my Thing, and that is what makes this poem even more  more special than most. “Ready to be Rocked in Shawsheen

 

A while ago, my Thing wrote somewhere, “Prepare to be Rocked” , and so I prepared by writing several poems, and then when it came time for my new Shawsheen Collection, I revisited this notion of preparedness and decided to explore what ,if anything, I am still ready for, and  I realized I was even more ready to be rocked in Shawsheen and everywhere, including his arms. Hence the poem:
Ready to be Rocked in Shawsheen“, a poem that will enjoy publication in South Florida Poetry Journal.  May 2019.  Look for it.  I certainly will.

 

My Thing himself can tell you much about the power of poetry; believe me, he knows very well; in fact the only thing between us on that bridge was the power of poetry to meld us together. He knows quite a bit about melding 

me and my Thingdom
Me and my Thingdom

Another plus, I am recording his poem, so I will really be reading it to him, and to anyone else who listens.   Now since I will be seen on tape, my iPhone recording me reading his poem to him, I am having my hair done  on Friday, (at  by the way) so that I can get my pretty back, on Friday, y’all

 

Penthouse hair Design Business card -- Pat Freeman

 

He didn’t say it was gone; I did.

 

 

 

How I look right now.

IMG_3006

 

 

No man anywhere wears a hat as he does!

He is 71 now, and I am 65.

 

 

AND me in his hat, a gift I  cherish

 

 

Mr in Bob's hat

and another photo of me in my Thing’s hat:

 

THYLIAS MOSS IN Thomas's HAT

we are two Things in Love:

Thylias Moss with BOB HOLMAN

 

 

 

Two Things who rock!

 

Poems submitted to an anthology about Kissing

I am pleased to announce that I have just submitted Thing,: three

POEMS TO AN ANTHOLOGY  ABOUT KISSING— Indeed, all three of the poems are about Kissing my Thing when I was 60 and he was 66.

 

me and my Thingdom
Me and my Thingdom

Title of my submission: “

Intimacy in a Taxi of  Toluca Evolution 

 

the perfect song!

 

 

 

 

 

 

MY THING’S PODCAST

Although my Thing’s podcast  transcription is not part of my new collection of poetry, Shawsheen Memorial Broom Society FOR PUBLISHER Selwn Rodda SHAWSHEEN cover art TEXT 01it should be, and even before  I loved him as much as I do now, the moment I heard his podcast, his Alaska Journals,

I was overcome by the poetry of it, and so impressed was I that I had to transcribe them, and one transcription I will post here.

me and my Thingdom
Me and my Thingdom

Transcription of a couple of  my Thing’s Alaska Journals:

Bob Holman:

The Alaska Journals Episode 1: Leaving

I’m Bob Holman.  This is the Alaska Journal.

 

 

Well, it’s my last night in New York

 

I had a poem I wrote a while ago, “Last Nights”

–last nights are very important to me, because I’ve had a lot of them.

I love last nights because you always have, “well, that happened last night” but when it happens on your last night, then you know that you’re ready

for whatever comes next, the molecules lining up

in preparation for departure.

 

I can’t believe all of this is not even off the beaten path; it’s 

off the highway here in Juneau.

 

That’s the sound of the waterfall coming down

–just one hole through the ice sheet

through the glacier; glaciers move back

and it turns into a waterfall

 

The green is the definition of green

which of course is a multihued “green”,

the “moss” popping, the leaves looking primordial

and the fir trees getting dark, dark, dark

and the sun filtering through with gold.

 

Everybody’s a bear.

 

 

 

 

Counting eagles from the front porch

 

1. one just flew over, and then slowly 

straight into the clouds

across the bay

 

2. two surprised me:  At a diagonal so close

I could hear the wind in the wings

 

3. three sailed so high up in a spiral, 

I didn’t know it disappeared…

 

Two versions of Episode two

Bob Holman:

The Alaska Journals episode 2:
Juneau & Kotzebue

 

I saw the bear a half hour after I landed in Juneau.

The crow has welcomed me, and three eagles;

pretty much the clans have given me the omen of omens.:

 

You really feel who owns the place

–and it sure ain’t me.

 

 

Gray.

 

Pick a gray that pours into Auke Bay 

like a glacier, and what is true 

for a cloud in Juneau is to be born rain

in a gray garment handed down from seals,

that gray, that other gray, that gray over there.

 

Mountain continues ocean

Language continues continues 

Story continues language

Mother continues child

Child continues memory

Memory continues whale

Whale continues sea

Boat continues life

Twitter continues Twitter

Waves continue ice

Milk continues poem

Laughter continues dance

Mountain continues ocean

continues contains continues

rain continues continues continues 

continues language

 

 

second version:

Bob Holman:

The Alaska Journals episode 2: Juneau & Kotzebue

 

I saw the bear a half hour after I landed in Juneau.

The crow has welcomed me, and three eagles;

pretty much the clans have given me the omen of omens.

 

You really feel who owns the place

–and it sure ain’t me.

 

 

Gray.

 

Pick a gray that pours into Auke Bay

like a glacier, and what is true

for a cloud in Juneau is to be born rain

in a gray garment handed down from seals,

that gray, that other gray, that gray over there.

 

[some of the prose interlude]:

I’m looking out over Auke Bay in Juneau; it’s not “awe”, but “auke” the “ka”

is a diminutive, so it’s little “ah” –just a little “awe” [ah] in the air

along with all the grays that are there.

 

–a lot of these clouds aren’t clouds;

they’re the moisture

off the mountains;

I know they’re there; I’ve seen them when the sun decides

to set fire to the sky.

A sea lion crossing:

In Kotzebue, you’re never too far from the tundra

In Kotzebue, you’re never too far from the sea.

The sun and moon dancing with the Northern Lights

–that’s about it here in Kotzebue.

 

Over the Arctic Circle, 60 miles from Russia

–unbelievable!– what they call the “Beringia Region”

–where the continents of Asia and North America

connected, where the Wooly Mammoth crossed,

and it still fels like wooly mammoth territory…

I read about how today was the last day of summer

in New York; it’s 70 degrees, but here,

it’s right at freezing, and you gotta bundle up!

 

 

 

 

Mountain continues ocean

Language continues continues continues

Story continues language

Mother continues child

Child continues memory

Memory continues whale

Whale continues sea

Boat continues life

Twitter continues Twitter

Waves continue ice

Milk continues poem

Laughter continues dance

Mountain continues ocean

continues contains continues

rain continues continues continues

continues language

 

-always more reasons to love him every day.  I hope that you enjoy listening him speak these words, and understand a littler better why the sound of his voice has such an effect on me.

 

–as you may know the glaciers are not that healthy anymore so when I listened to Matthew Burtner’s Glacier Music , I immediate .y though t of my Thing’s Alaska Journal podcast, podcast and wondered if he listened t o this language of melt and demise also. The glacier itself crying out; I wondered if he had  heard that too, the dying moments of the Language of Glacier, for he is known for Language Matters 

 

And never forget this:

 

Oh, you, my Thing  also talk about the molecules; I know you said you didn’t think as highly of your Alaska journals as I do, but you achieve something so very special  when you wonder about who “owns” the place and you say “it sure ain’t me” —can’t you hear the poetry in there? The timing and rhythm in your voice?  I always could and that is why I transcribed them.   Listening to them again, right now, Juneau and Kotebue —I am thinking how wonderful it might be if some of those glacier sounds were heard? I, of course think this language of glaciers is an endangered language also.  Also, your talking about the “Woolly Mammoth” and I think about my Mammoth, (a gift from son, when I nearly died  in 2011)

 

ANSTED WITH BRUSSEL SPROUTS

my son above, my mammoth below

Laytialnow you’re talking about how the health benefits of mother tongues, well,  isn’t the glacier speaking its mother tongue? Who is the glacier calling to? What is the purpose of what the glacier speaks? Who listens? When the glacier is gone, won’t the language it speaks die with it? Do those who live in the land, listen to and speak to the glaciers? 

Listening to your Alaska journals and they are full of visuals, I can really see the places as you talk about them, but The Glacier music I sent you are the death calls of these glaciers., the actual sounds the glacier makes, and Burtner recorded those sounds, that “Glacier Language”.  I wonder if you heard it and simply did not make mention of it?  in your collection of  languages, do you collect only languages of people when everything talks? Is not the glacier music a language of the glacier? An endangered language in  that the glacier is retreating, its tongue retracting, melting away, making the ocean seem pebbled with debris, tastebuds of the mother tongue fighting for a last chance to speak?

Is not the glacier music a language of the glacier? An endangered language is being lost as the glacier retreats, diminishes.

Now the poem about what continues and you are mentioning non human things, even mountain, rain, but not glacier continuing language, although glacier speaks its own. And this is sad to me, for when the glacier is gone, that endangered language will be gone, another omen of omens. Even “gray that pours into Auke Bay like a glacier” —though you don’t stay with glacier, do not explore significance of glacier, and your song about Kotzebue does not mention the song of the glacier —wasn’t the glacier singing then? “They come from the land”, you say, well, the songs of glaciers is the land itself speaking.  And is indeed the sonic poetry of the land itself. Etc.

Burtner’s “Glacier Music”, recorded sounds of sacred territory also, glacier dying. Glacier Music

here’s a link to Burtner’s Glacier Music on iTunes