Tag Archives: 27 February

Excitement reigns!

I am very excited about my forthcoming –just days now, volume of new and selected poetry! “Wannabe Hoochie Mama Gallery of Realities’ Red Dress Code“! (from Persea Books!)

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I haven’t had a new book since 2006, and Tokyo Butter!

 

Tokyo Butter

Tokyo Butter – a search for  forms of Dierdre (really my  late cousin Hilda).

 

The cover image is really a 50X USB microscpe scan I made of flowers from Hilda’s Funneral in 2002.  I  grew up with Hilda as if she were my sister… A terrible loss for me… 

I wonder what she would be like now?  She was only 3 months older than me, born 25 November 1953; I was born 27 February  1954.  “Tokyo Butter” explores some of that… I couldn’t believe that all of Hilda (“Deirdre” in the book) was gone from the world, and “Tokyo Butter” is the outcome of my (as yet incomplete) search for her.

casket roseHILDA 2

 

Here is a version of a video piece I made about a poem in “Tokyo Butter“: The Cultue of Snowmen”:

I really want the Proscope mobile!  Oh what I would capture!

Images I captured with my Proscope Digital microscope:

:

 

 

Hope you’ve already put in your orders at Amazon for “Wannabe Hoochie Mama Gallery of Realities’ Red Dress Code“!

 

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Video poam I made, the source of the title of this book soon to be available:

 

 

 

Also, please check out my Amazon Author Page!!

 

You can hear me reading three of my favorite poems from”Wannabe Hoochie Mama Gallery of Realities’ Red Dress Code” for Poets and Writers Here:

 

 

 

http://www.pw.org/content/wannabe_hoochie_mama_gallery_of_realities_red_dress_code

The three poems I read:

  1. Blue Coming
  2. The Glory Prelude
  3. Me and Bubble Went to Memphis 

Also here “Me and Bubble Went to Memphis” here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/features/audio/detail/76019

 

The Glory Prelude video poam here (music composed and performed by Graphic Artist Ansted Moss, Vocals by Thylias Moss who also made the vide poam; contains footage of my mother who has recently been visited by “The Angel of the Lord” –whatever that means.  I cannot compete with “The Angel of the Lord” –noone can):

(my mother is unaware that this footage was captured)

Please don’t tell her, unless you are “The Angel of the Lord”.

she already told me that she’s coming to get me… –I am going to be haunted after her death, so if I make no further posts, you will know that:

  1. I am dead
  2. My mother got me.
  3. My mother succeeded at what Houdini couldn’t
  4. A mother’s love

How mama looks now, as she waits for The Angel of the Lord  (to come back in ways my deceased father can’t):

 

Mama in wheelchair

(She loves Popeye’s chicken, but isn’t supposed to eat it. Diabetes,  Hypertension, Glaucoma, Thyroid problems, loss of the ability to grasp physical objects (with her right hand especially) and to remember anything, Dementia; loss of hearing, loss of eyesight, unless looking at and/or listening to:  “The Angel of the Lord”, but she’s coming back to get me, a promise she has made to the “Angel of the Lord” –I take this most seriously, because she saw “The Angel of the Lord” as real as anything she has ever seen..

“The Glory Prelude to a Widow Shrine System” is for her, the widow since the death of my father in July 1980.   She says “the only man I  need is Jesus”, so I called a man I liked a lot, before I loved him as I do now, “Jésus”.  My mama with dementia, (I love her, but she still doesn’t know. Just wanted to tell her that I had found a good man; I thought that maybe she would like that.  But no.  

I’ve been divorced since 2013, but makes no difference… Even if nothing goes any furher, I just wanted her to know that I had found someone much better, who doesn’t lie to me, a man I can trust to tell me the truth, whether or not I like it.  He will not deceive me, the most trustworthy man I know. 

and “Hypnosis at the Bird Factory ” (also in “Wannabe”) as a video poam right here:

and Tornado Pi, video poem version of the print poem “Tornados also in “Wannabe“:

 

 

Print version of “The Glory Prelude” in The Offing here:

BUY THE BOOK!

READ THE BOOK!

 

A significant new poem from this collection is: “Higginson Matters in Magnificent Culture of Myopia” and I perform this signture poem from this collection here

(the unnatural emphasis on the word “moss” comes from  a niece of my ex, telling me that I could hardly be moving on with my life, since I still had their name, a name they did not copyright, a name they did not intiate; there are many other “Mosses”; they have no valid claim to the exclusivity of that name:

 

Speaking of things “trustworthy”, I was all set to believe that an unfortunae  sitution with my publisher was greatly improved; I’m still all set for that, but I was disappointed when I saw on the publisher’s website for my book; a quote about me, this mixed-race woman who would never choose a partner based on his color, or a partner who would choose a woman based on her color; I would not exist without mixing… 

and although the quote which offends me now and all that I’ve tried to accomplish in  my writing is gone from the book jacket, I still name, on the website, “the black truths behind white lies” and am still a writer “who speaks bitterness”… I was disappoined to see that, because of the inaccuracy, and immediaetely wote an email to my poetry editor

That is not who I am; I speak TRUTH, no matter what color it is.   And if “black” (a part of me but not all of me) is so powerful that whatever is “black” at all, even a tiny potent, powerful drop; if so powerful that I  can not avoid using a black lens to interpret everything, then everything I see automatically becomes “black” because I see it, and everything  I say automatically become “black” because I say it, and everything I hear automatically becomes “black” because I hear it, and everything I do, automatically becomes “black” because I do it, and everything I touch automatically becomes “black” because I “touch” it, and everything I feel automatically becomes “black,”because I feel it,  and everthing I eat automatically becomes “black” because I eat it,

 then there is no need for me to preface anything I think; anything I feel, anything I do with “black” since I cannot do anything that is not black, so when I think of quantum phyiscs, quantum physics becomes black; every form of math, everything I’ve written here is black; that’s how potent black is, one drop and black heaven is the reward!

 

I continue to think these black thoughts, as I thought them at the University of new Hampshire where in a class for those teaching English composition, the subject was “How To Eliminate Vagueness” in student wiring, and one TA observed that when a sudent writes the word, “black”, the student likely means something else, such as, and this was agreed upon (worth noting that I was the ony visibly “black” person in the room); agreed upon that the student meant “irreversible damage” , so I wrote this poem, for instructors of English 401 at the University of New Hampshire, originally published in Callaloo, then in my book, Pyramid of Bone, nominated for the National Book Critics Circle Award:

about Pyramid of bone, Langdon Hammer says this: 

Although many of Moss’s poems discuss race and gender, these subjects are, explains scholar Langdon Hammer, simply “starting points for her work…her poetry makes such facts of identity seem unfamiliar, their meanings not to be predicted, unavailable to the naked eye.” Known for startling metaphors and vivid imagery, Moss’s work demonstrates an expansive imagination that seeks to connect at times wildly disparate subjects”

Pyramid of bone

Book by Thylias Moss

To Eliminate Vagueness”

 instructions: substitute  irreversible damage for blacwherever it occurs

 

 

In the red-legged locust’s black raids upon midwest soybeans,

in their illicit transmission of tapeworms and parasites

to quail, turkeys, and guinea fowl,

in all the black calendar days that are supposed

to indicate the ordinary.

 

In operating rooms body parts black with gangrene

are excised and trash cans seem to fill with dead crows.

 

There’s a black crust two miles thick in Soweto, some on bread,

around eyes, most on the streets where blood dried

into its own monument.

 

Then my mother’s black face nothing can soften, the sweating,

the forgetting to sleep, the solidarity with anyone troubling,

the compassion only I knew she felt hugging a radio, singing

spirituals, sequestering herself in her widow’s bedroom

praying for women unable to pray.

 

And what of Europeans, what of Asians and Latinos who are

     irreversibly

damaged, whose gangrened minds should be excised but who are

   not black?

 

 

One day I noticed my mother had poured her face onto mine

and had given me spirituals and lullabies.

I sang them when baskets of black clouds dumped

their transparent flowers over the convent

 

and the nuns’ basic black didn’t get wet

and they carted the flowers home in wheelbarrows

and arranged them like lullabies

and wept silently

 

as we were weeping, mother and daughter together

in my father’s old rocker, the damage already done.

 

                                            for Gary and the English 401 staff

 

                                                       Thylias Moss

Originally published many years ago in Callaloo, then in my award-winning collection “Pyramid of Bone” (University of Virginia Press, 1989)

 

and listen to me read, on the Poetry Foundation site: “The Pampering of Leora” 

 

and this video poam (product of act[s] of making) I made”Cosmic Seduction” is just another black thing I do:

Please enjoy as much of this truth as you can.  I thank you and  am grateful, always.

___________

Included for someone special 

all  for him

 

His if he wants it, the most trustworthy, most deserving  man I know. 

 

 

 

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“Mongongo Drupe” this week!

THIS WEEK! –JUST AHEAD OF OFFICIAL ARRIVAL OF SPRING : VERNAL EQUINOX!

Just a small update:  Just heard from the publisher! –and the issue of Callaloo 38.1, Winter 2015 with the “sex-positive feminism” story” “Mongongo Drupe” will be available this week!  –that’s right! –my next post (about this “sex-healthy” story should have an image of the cover! –yes; “sex-healthy” a body doing what a body can when inspired by a willing partner UNASHAMED OF BODIES DOING WHAT BODIES ARE MEANT TO DO!  —Hope you like it!

Could not come at a better time! –Just missed my 61st  birthday, 27 February, but that’s all right! –Just want to see it in print! –can’t really imagine what that will be like! –just hoping for similar good fortune with the fairy tale itself: “Once Upon a Sky-Blue Tine” (of which “Mongongo Drupe” in slightly altered form) is a part!  

Drupe –feed your skull with knowledge; feed your mind with this story

  

Homage to Leonard Nimoy as the Vulcan Mr. Spock LLAP!

First, I must deal with the fact, that   Leonard Nimoy as Mr. Spock, half Vulcan and half human (He’s a blend just like I am, Native American, African American, and Caucasian), Mr. Spock, from facebook

died on my 61st birthday! 02/27/2015.

I was dazzled! –completely shaken, as this man has been my first serious crush (I’m so pleased to say) ….     I want to be from Vulcan also, and sometimes felt as if I were from someplace else, somewhere that would allow me to cross many boundaries of space and time, as if there were no boundaries at all, especially between people (yeah; such idealism is mine, no matter how impractical; I realize that wars will continue to be fought, and it’s very unlikely that people will ever “get along” –too much has happened for many of us to just forgive and forget.  So contrary to a sense of justice for which someone is guilty, and not just society itself.  

Perhaps why I’m so touched, so inspired by a story about the Gainesville Tornadoes...

And this tribute to Leonard Nimoy on CBS news, Sunday Morning –please enjoy this bittersweet passage –because Mr. Spock doesn’t end –a tine, behaving as all tines do! LLAP! LLAP!  LLAP! –in your new form….

Some photos of me from my 61st birthday, 02/27/2015, also date of Mr. Spock’s death, from COPD, same as my father in 1980, 13 July 1980:

Birthday pic 7 (02:27:2015)Birthday pic 4 - o2:27:2015Birthday pic 6 (02:27:2015)

Here is the “forker girl” youtube playlist of Leonard Nimoy videos (a list in progress)

Mr. Spock youtube playlist.

My beloved father (Daddy’s girl speaking! –pure Daddy’s girl, and I’m not ashamed of this! –he understood me as no one ever did…  Please try to understand my Calvin-tight crop 1950 copyCalvin & Thylias in WeddingBrasier family circa 1959 copy

 

 

continued attachment. Only photos of my father and I together.  My father used to Vulcanize tires (for the Cardinal Tire Company, in Cleveland, Ohio, and though I searched feverishly for some online recollection of this establishment I couldn’t find it, so cannot link with evidence of this memory, and Mr. Spock being from the Planet Vulcan, this coincidence is just too much!  My father vulcanized tires for a company that no longer exists –I can find no mention of it as if it’s more mythic than anything that ever existed… and this is fitting, since I was writing about the Vulcan mind-meld  in my fairy tale, “Once upon a Sky-Blue Tine” and trying to figure out what possible meaning could be associated with my birthday –that I was determined to minimize –who am I? and what difference do I really make?  –that is, I am not the center of the universe or universes that converge and diverge in space I occupy… Not my private universe at all…  

There’s just something about that mind-meld! –I’ve found the idea of it to be so very sexy; not the only way it was used on Star Trek, but when it worked, how dazzling. Mind gives birth to just about everything.  I’m glad to host a place so un-boundaried inside myself… Just the way my Daddy tried to raise me! –even to consideration of what lay beyond the stars! –he never, for instance, suggested to me that the moon was made of cheese –he suggested rocks, beautiful rocks, some of which might glow depending on what they interacted with, maybe green (Spock green) –maybe they would glow green! as in Verde, the Greening of Electrons a video poam I made, while I was still married, but here it is –please note — no Lorca from my ex-spouse, only a dream I had; only a dream… Sweet and green dream, but only a dream…so is everything! everything! My Mr. Spock youtube playlist

I grew up with a father always interested in how things connected… Perhaps he was aided in his view by his own mixtures of racial components, Native American, Caucasian, and African American, half of course (as was the Vulcan Mr. Spock a half-breed, a mulatto, mixed blood, as if anyone doesn’t come from a mixture of blood; as if there’s any one of us not mixed! 

My Birthday!

So, today is the birthday of Thylias Moss! –but not hers alone! others born today  Here’s a little Cafe Astrology for today  some history for today.

Up all night trying to capture some written essence of today.  More about Thylias Moss from around the web.

Pond behind my house remains completely snow-covered.  This day in history from the history channel…. And this day is history from history orb

A little world history.

D-marie time capsule about 27 February

(some) Black History for today

A little Native American history for 27 February

Wounded Knee on 27 February.

More history for today!!

Some food history for today

Oldies music in history.

Foodimentary history

Dominican Republic in history on this day

BBC -entertainment for 27 February

and a portion of this reminds me of  Green Light and Gamma Ways….

Space Weather – 27 February

South African Biodiversity Institute and some significance of this date in this context.

That’s it for now… History is never stopping; that’s the point! –go forth and be part of it.