Page 7 - Sinan Anton News Today

165. you cried when i left for california. you and bastand figure the driveway. i didnt expect that from you. wasnt prepare for the weeping that would last until i cross the the state border. when i got to oakland my emotions leaked like a wildfire. they are the kind that destroy you, your security your shell. it almost killed me the home sickness the longing and anger that flawed itself into a stone in my throat. 165 days until i see you again. how many days in a semester. how long be...

layers of hardness, liquid and flame. can anything survive at the core. must i always hold people at a distance never let them settle inside me. mother there is not enough room for me in your womb. thats why i left. to seek a home a place where i could grow. 165 miles i crieds, 165 times i missed you today. 165 meals that did not satisfy. 165 was not the number of my dorm room. 165 dollars for a 1 way ticket. 651 the area code home. >> this is a record. phone rings, a set in mother ton...

it is almost dawn. she is quiet now. mother, i said, stroking her hair and forehead. she opens her eyes and for a moment creeps me with a blank stare as if i was part of the nightmare. but she smiles and the past restores itself. i kept you up again my mother said. no. it was the heat, i answered softly. inhealing the frayingance of mangos that drifted in from the orchard. and bowed my head to the mercy of the flies. my last piece is about what it was like what it might feel like to be...

>> thank you very much. i guess what i want to say about an arrangement like that is that its not meant to use the cedar flute as a bit of exotica, but what the panelists have been speaking about. its the use of all of it together is a way of trying to address, hopefully not in a way that homogenizing anything, hopefully not in a way that takes anything away from any of the traditions incorporated within it. we all come from jazz backgrounds, which is inherently about mixing in and ...

they dance memorize steps on wooden stairways. they sleep with their eyes open dreaming of half eaten cake. low hum of a car radio. the feel of water. the taste of skin. thank you. [applause]. closing out our evening of readers is ahn wa received msa of creative writing. and the ardela literary composition prize in creative nonfiction. her work has been published in several an tholologies including our cheers to muses. in addition to writing and performing she published and hand bound ...

the shutter. for love of another id say to myself, faithful in muted pain. my hope, my heart extinguishing as you stood there paralyzed each time like a still camera unable to look away. infraction. if my love were smooth and lustrous would you spit me open and fill me up again. would you kiss the scar you made of me name it and claim me like a mountain. bear witness to holiness where 2 rocks collide. if my was unpenetrable and clear would you search your whole life destroying me just ...

in thean tholology. he smoothed the wrinkles on my bell and he sucked my bitter fruit. we plowed an ocean in my navel and sowed mountains of regrets into fields. we allowed only the memory of water to sustain our thirst. we dreamt of rain and listened for our trees to bare fruit. >> the next is inspired by my mother, are we all? this is garden. the gate to my mothers garden opened always trees flirt with shadows and the grass says my same. asleep in flowered boxes pay for rain. i open ...

her work has been published in several an tholologies including our cheers to muses. in addition to writing and performing she published and hand bound artist books and is a photographer and print maker. lives and creates in oakland. i would like to introduce ahmwa. [applause] flesh of my flesh. the woman who invented clothes was a woman. she knew the power of a well placed leash. knew there was no looking back. once man laid himself upon her he was cleave into her. need the clay of he...

photographer. married and has 2 girls she is an event planner and arts fundraiser. her works have been exhibited in the bay area and international. shes working on poems entitled, from a fanatic heart. grace. written at a time when id say was my hungry period. the first is bones. my bones are bleached white under your stare while you warm your hands under my open wounds i swallow the air you exheal and pluck the bones from your rib cage and i will make a man out of you. my bones memori...

the woman who invented clothes was a woman. she knew the power of a well placed leash. knew there was no looking back. once man laid himself upon her he was cleave into her. need the clay of her. she knew then shield always need a sheath. a shield from shame. the early pain of having been divided. >> first sin. forgive me for coveting my mothers breast until it bled iodine to deceive me. 165. you cried when i left for california. you and bastand figure the driveway. i didnt expect that...