tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-305747752009-12-15T22:54:28.352-08:00BellumLettersMichelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.comBlogger425125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-46341694173274003862009-11-27T20:31:00.000-08:002009-11-27T20:35:47.650-08:00

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-44704615582040104542009-11-18T23:58:00.000-08:002009-11-19T00:04:52.485-08:00

it was about forgetting and hurt feelings and beginnings. We worked in rows, our arms swinging back and forth, the needle hemming slow and long, the stitch singing. When I closed my eyes she sings a song. She is my twin scissor. We swing and twitch the tune, the lungs brimming. at first it felt like all I ever wanted was a hug, and lung. But now the burning spools of plastic unspool the glossed

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-23337372871239143902009-10-24T21:05:00.000-07:002009-10-24T21:52:13.968-07:00

One of the dreams was about a paper I'd written called "The Fog of Scholarship." The thesis was that scholarship creates a fog around the subject, and sometimes it fills a book or a room. Or else it is there like a ghost in conversations. In the paper I called appearances of the fog in conversations "ghostings," and talked about how the language of scholarship is both guest and host which made

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-74719197858286146192009-09-25T21:19:00.000-07:002009-09-25T21:28:40.989-07:00

dead dove when I opened the door...on its back...white feathers...red feet, curled red, nails...in my hand...but is it dead? eyelid, gold eye, eyeslide. the chest is moving. I'm looking looking looking for breath. It is alive, just barely, on the brink. I feel its pulse. I show it to J. "It's still breathing." Looking closely, J says "no, no, that is just your hand moving." It was my own pulse I

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-80588912961843555472009-09-25T21:13:00.000-07:002009-09-25T21:19:20.331-07:00

wound the old hole fashiona thing sparkling, yellow jacketsting-wings, plastic sheep bobbinghorizon-green, propeller-stungkitty hanging synthroid _________shudder cupboardclean cat, claws pink: meat-makingmud-hooves, cork-screw squeal, squid's ink in a jarthe dead dove's eyegold in her slit

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-47832166741783290302009-09-19T19:07:00.000-07:002009-10-24T21:53:12.747-07:00

Yesterday, I noticed a gray dove outside the enclosed seabird pond area. The dove looked like the doves in the aviaries, and so I suspected that it had escaped and then found its way back. Later, June said that she had given the dove to a neighbor, and that it must have escaped from its new home and come back. I went out of the enclosure and tried to net the bird so I could get it back inside,

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-65315223825773641602009-08-21T15:28:00.000-07:002009-08-21T15:29:33.610-07:00

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-19272316302248178372009-08-21T14:40:00.000-07:002009-08-21T14:45:04.521-07:00

dazed in ruins, the interlocking gridyou've given us all the longing we can mendto bark-babies, canine sheaths, torn wakesin knotted bibs, wings in trenches, oil bloodblade babes, sand in iced glass, rattle rattlethe chill climbs twin spiders spreadgreased windows, healthy prints

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-53766610743174774042009-08-03T21:35:00.000-07:002009-08-03T21:56:23.338-07:00

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-7708915672182051232009-08-02T20:29:00.000-07:002009-08-02T20:41:01.375-07:00

went to the beach today at 2 pm when the sun was high but there was still a lambswool mist of the marine layer along the sand and rocks. there was a good deal of tar on the beach and afterwards my friend and I dragged our sneakers across the grass and asphalt and just now I went to the car and noticed the smell of oil still in the air.the summer is my favorite because the days are long and I tend

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-80506366618164173782009-07-20T16:33:00.001-07:002009-07-26T09:18:25.708-07:00

A *new* chapbook from Hex Presse, published as part of the Dusie Kollektiv. Many thanks to Author Elizabeth Bryant and Dusie luminary Susana Gardner.*1/4 letter size*double-bound with chiyogami paper and vellum, cloth, or iridescent tissue paper, or lace. Every single copy is unique.*printed in an edition of 100 copies. Only a very limited number are available for purchase, as the majority of the

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-14224488956506252252009-07-06T18:31:00.000-07:002009-07-06T18:32:32.465-07:00

xoxo still here

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-10338557297554788472009-06-02T09:51:00.000-07:002009-06-02T09:56:23.513-07:00

I love summer. It is when I read the most.Delirious Hem had an amazing forum on feminist poetics last month, and at some point I have things to say about it.Check out the newest forum on Deviant Beach Reads, curated and organized by Danielle Pafunda.

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-24026254692352388842009-05-19T19:30:00.000-07:002009-05-19T19:39:01.020-07:00

the large crow that resides slowand steady black rustle featherswhisper flight, the dusk rattlein my throat: it takes so longto live.I've forgotten all my songs. The gardenrows like swamped in ruins. Dustin gates, mesh wire swinging. We'dcling to what if we'd only known.She thought this to herself beforebed every night for a week.mesh-water in the air, the lightwebs unmarshed. waiting for

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-60034378323293814032009-04-25T13:00:00.000-07:002009-04-25T13:02:22.868-07:00

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-49181246308813985272009-04-23T12:41:00.001-07:002009-04-23T12:55:17.241-07:00

at what point is it not behind but underneath? I am undeneath the tests. I've made my charts, arranged my instruments, but something else continues to duel or intercept. Also, I resent the screen. It is easier with yarn and cloth. You know what I mean. The other night we saw a white-lined sphinx moth. Two of them. Yes, we had to look twice to determine that it was not a hummingbird. It looked

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-63289634647447926312009-04-17T13:20:00.000-07:002009-04-17T13:21:12.167-07:00

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-19068875485765809832009-04-17T11:53:00.000-07:002009-04-17T11:54:56.583-07:00

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-54390552577005838092009-04-17T10:25:00.000-07:002009-04-17T13:44:46.695-07:00

one of the things that has suprised me is that the data collection is difficult. the learning curve is steep, and I most be focused and in possession of a sufficient amount of emotional energy if I want to ensure a certain level of accuracy or "truth." Although one of the things I'm finding is that truth or the feeling of truth is completely unreliable (of course, therefore more interesting, thus

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-20916370000751005502009-04-17T10:20:00.000-07:002009-04-17T10:21:46.549-07:00

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-66332363847967614592009-04-14T22:34:00.000-07:002009-04-14T22:35:28.654-07:00

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-67022458470779969472009-04-12T22:46:00.000-07:002009-04-12T22:47:45.124-07:00

Today I saw three whales. I was in an airplane. The whales were in the ocean. The shadow of the plane skittered across.

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-20432634554282836932009-04-07T23:35:00.000-07:002009-04-07T23:37:39.458-07:00

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-8463471610821959892009-04-07T14:11:00.000-07:002009-04-07T14:13:45.075-07:00

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30574775.post-71434428809384786142009-04-06T09:38:00.000-07:002009-04-06T09:44:21.752-07:00

The next three poems will be coming later tonight. So far data collection is going well. There are plenty of words out there, though it occurs to me that a future study would include letters, sounds, glyphs, and gestures.

Michelle Detoriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16678218271885988491noreply@blogger.com0