Tag Archives: Essay

Pushcart Prize!

PUSHCART PRIZE NOTIFICATIOBN - "BLUE COMING.jpg

 

Received notification just minutes ago, abouut my Poem, “Blue Coming” written after a poem by my Thing seen with me  in my featured photo: 

read the essay  Fuckin Muse, Journety into Collaboration here.

 

My Thing,  also a poet, wrote 

What you Can’t understand is  is that Poetry is Connected to the Body again

The essay in which my poem , “Blue Coming” emerges as response, continuation of his essay, extends his essay and takes the poem and meanings to places it skirted, but my poem enters these locations, and the result? A prize-winning poem!

 

This is the best news that has happened in a very long time.  A moment a poet lives for, a moment a poet writes for, Sustaining!

 

Read the Abstratc mag initial interview all suroundng ths poem 

(“Fuckin’ Muse: Journey into Collaboration”)

 

and read Blue Coming here.

 

 

 

 

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Tarpulin Sky: What I’m Reading

  I have just completed and submitted my essay on “What I’m Reading”

books of influence and comfort, books, ideas and words of propulsion, the books I chose are among my favorites; I own just over 5,000  books and Lisa was generous enough to help organize them for me today.  But in the end, Lisa turned out to be neither who nor what  thought she was.

No longer tight rows of a hundred boxes of books; the books I selected for Tarpulin Sky:

  1. Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes, by Eleanor Coerr   

     2.  Schindler’s List by Thomas Kenneally

3. Contact by Carl Sagan

     4. Touch the Universe by Noreen Grice

5. Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison

You will be able to read my essay very soon, online. As soon as I have it, I will post the link.

I hope that you will want to experience these books. 

I live with them, these books form an archway;

I had to walk through them just to get to my bedroom, lines, images and words fell down as explosions of popcorn that kind of excitement about what will soon enter my body –that’s how sensuous reading is to me, active not passive.  

the swelling and opening of kernels, that rank indeed. Idea Gardens. Essences of the plant, no higher order of magnitude, necklaces of popcorn balls, popcorn hat that falls apart; I hardly get to wear it.  

Only thing better: would be to wear a honey comb; I go to bed like that, golden caramel and buttery, even between my toes;  most of you will just have to imagine this

–for a moment I think of popcorn balls at Euclid Beach Humpgrey Popcorn balls 

(Image from : http://www.humphreycompany.com)

Now a video of Popcorn popping from YouTube:

Mexico City invitation!

Opportunity for my Spanish-speaking self!  Limits! –can do; indeed, I have been addressign “limits” for quite some time, ergo, “Limited Fork” –migration! Duh! cultue, amalgamation of so much; talk about me and you have to  also talk about  migration, and transit systems –talking about those in the book about my father and in my daily life, think Jodie Foster in “Contact”:

 

and my favorite part, an intergalactic reunion with her father! What I wouldn’t give to have that! 

 

 

 

Thylias Moss.jpgI am already looking forward to this!  –Maybe I will get to be Alita Oso again; as I became in grad school in New Hampshire when I realized that my Master’s degree in “American Literature” curriculum contained only lit for the United States, and my response was not to complain, but to write a letter apologizing for my failure not to include literature of  the rest of the Americas, since “US” was not specified in the degree requirements.  

 

And the response was that I could include literature of the rest of the Americas; but these classes had to be at the graduate level, and such classes were offered only in Spanish, so my first year of grad studies, I enrolled in undergrad Spanish course, and was able to enroll in four Latin American Lit courses my  second year, one of my favorite poems was “El descrubrimeiento de vidrio” — I still have that poem, writen by “Alita Oso”

 

who also wrote an essay I have been looking for; hope I find it before I go to Mexico City, an essay about “Alice in Wonderland Through the Looking Glass in which the Looking Glass is a Gravitational Lens” –writen in Spanish; I received an A+ on it.  Guess I can write something similar again; Alita Oso wrote poems in Spaish, and I translated them into English.  I “found” her lost poems; had a goood time finding them.

 

I could not have enjoyed myself more!  The Spanish professor lived in Maine, and I would often visit her there; I recall walking on campus and those catcalls, “esos blujeannes!”esos blujeannes!”  (Those bluejeans!  Those blue jeans!)

 

REDWOOD THYLIASI didn’t have time to learn enough Portugese also, so no Brazilian lit for me; Too bad.  Welcome back, Alita Oso! (Little Winged Bear)

Evolutions

It is important that I say this.

It is important that we not remain prisoners of the past.

It is important that we acknowledge change.

It is important that we allow anything to become something else, and not hold it to whatever it was.

“Change” systems are the way; once something has changed, we must allow that thing to exist in a form of system is only a temporary stop; I do not want to think that is a final, instead, only an emerging form.  What would we really be if we could not change? Think of how you may have been at birth; I would assume that you have changed in some way, and isn’t that the idea, to not remain as you were, and to not continue to be judged as that?

What is it that does not have a past not meant to threaten us like ghosts we are unable to escape?

Do you really think I would want to be what I was?

I happen to like evolving, even from my parents; only my mother remains alive, and she wants me to be “saved” from , I hope, hating myself as much as she hates herself.

If you really know me then you also know I am not my mother, though she would prefer that I was. Although she would prefer me to be someone I am not.

My mother insists on dying as she is, unable to change. There is withering I can do about that, as I do not intend to die her death. I will die my own, and unlike her, I have bio idea what will follow that event.

She is convinced,

Thylias Rebecca Brasier Moss and Florida

SKIN & BONES

 however, that I am going to hell; I cannot change her belief system, nor do I think I should, but I can say this, that after interacting with my father for so many years, my mother did not change as she could have.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My father! Calvin Theodore Brasier

My father!

  (half of his father seen below, and half of me)

Frizzell Brasier

my paternal grandfather

(Native American, Indian (from India), and Caucasian)

She is becoming increasingly evangelical, and has dementia that is taking the mother I once knew so far away from me.

And I accept this. Even though my own mother, 87 years old right now is unable to accept me.

And please understand that I am okay with this, I just want to live my life, and of course, I will make mistakes some fo the time, maybe even all of the time, but I will not imprison anyone in their past as my mother rimprisons herself.

I allow that all things may change, and in fact I want them to.

Go ahead and change. Go ahead and become. Go ahead and take the risk, or do you really feel that you have achieved an ultimate form of yourself?

I do not, and at 63, I continue to plod forward, ideally emerging as something better by the end of this life.

My thanks to any of you who have contributed in any way to evolution systems of Thylias Moss.

A few selfies of me, all grown up at 63:

FLORIDA PAST

The last time I saw her hair. She hates it, and hates herself.  Completely missed the back power movement. All that prejudice in the south of her birth, Alabama and Tennesssee, called the little black one and fully believed every denigration, even denigrated herself, wanted her child, me to have the hair she always wanted, and I do, never relaxed. no chemical treatment, except she wanted my hair for herself.  

THAT Length she craves.  

“Good Hair” Essay live in Mythos!

airmythos

Very pleased to announce the publication of my essay “Good Hair: an Endordsement of Vanity”  in Mythos Magazine! at this link: https://mythos-magazine.squarespace.com/essays/good-hair-an-endorsement-of-vanity

Please enjoy!

–by the way, I love my hair, and will be going on Wednesday to have my hair done at Penthouse Hair Salon,  561 N. Hewitt Street, Ypsilanti, Michigan 48197.

PenthouseHairDesign

Pat Freeman understands my hair, almost more than I do.

When you visit Penthouse, please ask for Pat.

 

No weave, no extensions, no hair pieces, never relaxer:  100% natural hair.

A clip from the Chris rock film “Good Hair” with which my essay shares a title”

 

 

 

“Good Hair” essay in Mythos magazine

Apparently publication of my Good Hair: essay remains on track in Mythos Magazine illustrtions and everything.  Here are the inital comments from the edios o Myths:

“Thanks so much for your submission to Mythos Magazine. I loved your piece. The richness of your narration was powerful, smart, and unapologetic, and I’m interested in working with you in the coming weeks to publish it for our site. I know it would be deeply appreciated by our readership. 

Let me know if you accept this offer to publish, and I’ll reach out with more details. We have an illustrator for pieces who would likely do some accompanying artwork for yours, which we can coordinate a bit later. 

Looking forward to hearing from you!”

and here is the followup just received minutes ago, a wee k befor my 63rd birthday!

Hope you are doing well, and sorry for the long delay on my end! 

Our illustrator is going to work on a piece to accompany yours in the coming weeks. Do let me know if you have any specifications for that.

 I’ll be back in touch by the weekend with some logistical things. 

My Best,

Bindu “

and now a few photos of this “good hair stuff”; I must thank my parents for my haiving the hair I have, especially my moher’s own shame of her short, kinky nappy hair:

Mama here with the hair she hates:

FLORIDA PAST

She always wears a wig now, will not be seen without one, and not necessarily the  100% human hair wigs, but  in hers as seen below, the fibers are plastic, but they do cover her shame, the curse of having Afro-textured hair.

 

And then there are those who insist that my hair could not possibly be natural, although it is.  

Others have problems wth my hair, not me.

 I was born this way;  I do nothing to cause my hair to grow. NOTHING.  AT ALL.  

You want this hair, you can purchase it. There are all kinds of products that I do not use, well, watch the Chris Rock movie if this is something you do not know for yourself.  

Do I look better because of my hair?   Some men think so, and isn’t that what this is really about?    The sex appeal of hair?  

I cannot say for sure; I only speculate, but in my mother’s case , she hates her hair, and made sure I wouldn’t be born it,  but xI an also say that I am glad not to be bald, and if I am relaxed, that is just my demeanor.  I have the hair  I haeve because of heritage, that’s all.

My parents, the reason for the hair she always wanted and didn’t have.  Specifically my paternal lineage.  I am not in control of my birth; just glad that I was born, and also glad, very glad to have hair, good or not.  Even my hairdresser has commented on my hair, because there is no weave, no hair pieces, no extensions, and I have never had a relaxer, and will be 63 years old in a week.  The only change I make is some occasional hair color.  My hair dresser can attest to that –not that I require any proof.  If you want to think  that I have good hair, then think it.  I’ve been told often anought that I have it.  

Please, I am glad to have it,but no need to make a big deal about it.

And I would not trade my hair for another form.  Yes, indeed, men tend to like my hair, for a variety of reasons, but one thing I can say is that my hair does not come off, unless it is cut off.  The way it looks is the same way I wakeup wih it.  I do no have to have “weave sex” as in the movie “Good Hair” by Chris Rock.

I just want to repeat that I have no relaxer.  I do not need it.  Sorry.  I am a black woman, but that is not all. I am a multiracial woman, if that is needed to explan this natural growth of my hair.  My hair grows the way you see it in these photos. 

If it looks relaxed, that is only because that is the way my hair grows.  

And this clip from the Chris Rock movie also:

I am also naturally small, 98 pounds, and I have never dieted.  No, my life isn’t perfect, but I am thankful for whatever I’ve got, and I do not apologize for it.  

If it took races mixing to give me this look, then let them mix, for I could not exist any other way. I a naturally thin like my father. And his father seen below. Races should mix anyway; such devisions help no one, but my mother was completle bypassed by black movemens she never said it loud that she was “black and proud” because she isn’t.

And at age 87, and about to die, she is not going to change.  I will be sure that she has on a wig for her funeral.  I will be sure that she looks what she considers  “best” 

“Good Hair” essay accepted

I am delighted to report that my “Good Hair” essay has just been accepted by Mythos Magazine.

 

Not sure when the issue with my essay will be published; I sent it earlier todays, and I have already receved a response from the editor:

“Thanks so much for your submission to Mythos Magazine. I loved your piece. The richness of your narration was powerful, smart, and unapologetic, and I’m interested in working with you in the coming weeks to publish it for our site. I know it would be deeply appreciated by our readership.”

As usual, I spoke TRUTH  —nothing else is worth saying.  So I don’t say it.

There will be accompanying artwork, I am so pleased to say. No details yet, just feeling “acceptance” (all I have ever wanted, to be accepted as myself.  That is all you get with me, 100% natural; I do not mean this harshly.  No wig, no weave, no extensions.  None of that for me,… Not a problem if you want to accessorize yourself that way, I choose not to, not because it’s better, I am content with what I have right now. I not feel a need to change it or enhance it. I like it as it is. 

Doesn’t matter what I used to have or will have, this is what I’ve got in the moment that I write.  Take it or leave it.  Does not come off unless it’s cut off.

It is what it is, and I am who I am:  a tiny woman writer –age 62!– with a lot of natural hair. 

 My hair is thick, but the photo doesn’t convey that.  

We all have something worth celebrating about ourselves, as long as you woke up, that is excellent acheievement.  Be thankful, boast that you woke up, not everyone did.  

And yes, I woke up like this:

 

 

Flawless

I am as unapologetic here as I am in the essay.

TRUTH

and never anything else from me.  Everythg about me, head to toe is 100% natural. Everything.  No additions or subtractions.  Not one. Not even a diet.   No weave, no wig, no hair pieces, no extensions and I do not apologize, for what?

Does the “TRUTH’ need to apologize for being the truth? 

“Weave sex“? –not necessary here.

A man who is with me will see a woman wake up with him the same as she went to bed with him.  I am not hiding anything.  No girdle to unlossen. My waist is tiny but is not cinched.  I have not ever needed a push-up  or padded bra.  Never.  

I try to be quiet in the background; I try to fade away,

but this truth is as real as anything else,   and if I am accepted, please understand that this TRUTH comes with me. I do not ever separate myself from TRUTH.  

If you want to know something, depend on me not to lie

(not even to get the man I want, yes; I may have some truth and a lot of natural body, and I am not that stupid, was considered gifted starting in first grade, but TRUTH alone is not enough, I even gave him my best natural “cookies”, but I woud be lying if I said I have him, but not  if I admit I want him (and telling the TRUTH right there, may cost me, but I say it anyway, I must; I asssure you he already knows how I feel about him. I speak here as myself not as a character.  I speak about my real life,   from the depths of me–)

The naturally skinny, the naturally coiffed, the naturally aging (I don’t even wear makeup, only some lipgloss) also have something to say.

I am talking here about nothing I gave myself.  Born this way.  

Please note, I am not rich.

I was born that way also.  I too have needs, wants, desires.  Including a man who will accept me as I am.   I accept him as he is; he knows I do.  I just want love; I just want to give love…

I am little, but I can love him… My love for him is much bigger than I am.  Much stronger too.

I don’t even know for sure that I should say this, but as it is the truth, I am willing to take a chance. I am sure he knows anyway, whether or not he wants me to say it, but just a look at a photo of him, and I fall to pieces.  

Just what it is about this man?  –I am beginning a series of poems to help me answer that… “more poems” I should say, not as if I haven’t written about him before… even this blog post… 

Here’s to his Highness Higgs –and every Higgs boson everywher.