p o e t : c e r e m o n i a l i s t
My practice is a weaving of forms, often glowing in the space between poetry and essay, writing and ritual, text and installation, research and intuition, memory and manifestation, and the seen and unseen worlds. I write in search of a more organic grammar. One that behaves as water might—at once erosional and restorative—; one that behaves as light might if light had a translatable syntax—refractive, lyrical, tumbling—; one that behaves as air—to compose sentence-fragments that levitate and emit an atmosphere all their own. To write a sentence that grieves, not only in its content, but also through its layout on the page and syntactical texturality. To compose an entire book of thought-filaments, that when read by the reader can be taken up like twigs and plant fibers and woven into a nest of any arrangement. To write ceremonies of sound. To reveal ecologies of experience. To find a grammar of sustainability; a grammar that responds, repairs, and proliferates. To write a poem as loamy as the earth. To build sympathetic resonance. To write in favor of the sensory. To heal the past through the future of the poem. To compose a book underground, in the dark, as the dirt around each word sediments and sloughs. As the syllables and consonants vibrate, eclipsing us, presencing us, netting us within the world.
author photo taken by angela rawlings