Lucie Brock-Broido – 9/25 – 8:30pm – Frick Fine Arts

Happy Hump Day, Pittsburgh!

Need a mid-day boost? Here is the opening of “Gaudy Infinitesimal,” a poem about waking up with a disturbing dream stuck in your head:

By morning, you will be invisible, mon dream—
You are every rush-moth in your story, every torso, every bitch.
Now, you are distracting Moi.
This is my work, the infidelities of me, my own ivory hillocks, my toy
Pram filled with slippery mice, my own mares fetlock-deep in squalls
Of snow.

Lucie Brock-Broido


Please join us for our first reading of the 2014/15 season with Lucie Brock-Broido on Thursday, Sept. 25 at 8:30pm in the Frick Fine Arts Auditorium. Free and open to the public.

Lucie Brock-Broido – 9/25 – 8:30pm – Frick Fine Arts

Good afternoon, everyone!

 

Just another dose of the dear Lucie Brock-Broido to get you ready for her visit this Thursday! This poem is from her first collection, “A Hunger.” It is titled Domestic Mysticism.

 

In thrice 10,000 seasons, I will come back to this world
In a white cotton dress. Kingdom of After My Own Heart.
Kingdom of Fragile. Kingdom of Dwarves. When I come home,
Teacups will quiver in their Dresden saucers, pentatonic chimes
Will move in wind. A covey of alley cats will swarm on the side
Porch & perch there, portents with quickened heartbeats
You will feel against your ankles as you pass through.

After the first millenium, we were supposed to die out.
You had your face pressed up against the coarse dyed velvet
Of the curtain, always looking out for your own transmigration:
What colors you would wear, what cut of jewel,
What kind of pageantry, if your legs would be tied
Down, if there would be wandering tribes of minstrels
Following with woodwinds in your wake.

This work of mine, the kind of work which takes no arms to do,
Is least noble of all. It’s peopled by Wizards, the Forlorn,
The Awkward, the Blinkers, the Spoon-Fingered, Agnostic Lispers,
Stutterers of Prayer, the Flatulent, the Closet Weepers,
The Charlatans. I am one of those. In January, the month the owls
Nest in, I am a witness & a small thing altogether. The Kingdom
Of Ingratitude. Kingdom of Lies. Kingdom of How Dare I.

I go on dropping words like little pink fish eggs, unawares, slightly
Illiterate, often on the mark. Waiting for the clear whoosh
Of fluid to descend & cover them. A train like a silver
Russian love pill for the sick at heart passes by
My bedroom window in the night at the speed of mirage.
In the next millenium, I will be middle aged. I do not do well
In the marrow of things. Kingdom of Trick. Kingdom of Drug.

In a lung-shaped suburb of Virginia, my sister will be childless
Inside the ice storm, forcing the narcissus. We will send
Each other valentines. The radio blowing out
Vaughan Williams on the highway’s purple moor.
At nine o’clock, we will put away our sewing to speak
Of lofty things while, in the pantry, little plants will nudge
Their frail tips toward the light we made last century.

When I come home, the dwarves will be long
In their shadows & promiscuous. The alley cats will sneak
Inside, curl about the legs of furniture, close the skins
Inside their eyelids, sleep. Orchids will be intercrossed & sturdy.
The sun will go down as I sit, thin armed, small breasted
In my cotton dress, poked with eyelet stitches, a little lace,
In the queer light left when a room snuffs out.

I draw a bath, enter the water as a god enters water:
Fertile, knowing, kind, surrounded by glass objects
Which could break easily if mishandled or ill-touched.
Everyone knows an unworshipped woman will betray you.
There is always that promise, I like that. Kingdom of Kinesis.
Kingdom of Benevolent. I will betray as a god betrays,
With tenderheartedness. I’ve got this mystic streak in me.

 


 

Please join us for our first reading of the 2014/15 season with Lucie Brock-Broido on Thursday, Sept. 25 at 8:30pm in the Frick Fine Arts Auditorium. Free and open to the public.

Lucie Brock-Broido – 9/25 – 8:30pm – Frick Fine Arts

Happy Monday, Pittsburgh!

 

I hope your week is off to a good start. If not, here’s an excerpt from Lucie Brock-Broido’s third collection, “Trouble in Mind” to brighten up your day!

 

When, after many years, the raptor beak
Let loose of you,
He dropped your tiny body
In the scarab-colored hollow

Of a carriage, left you like a finch
Wrapped in its nest of linens wound

With linden leaves in a child’s cardboard box.

Tonight the wind is hover-

Hunting as the leather seats of swings go back
And forth with no one in them

As certain and invisible as
Red scarves silking endlessly

From a magician’s hollow hat
And the spectacular catastrophe

Of your endless childhood
Is done.


Please join us for our first reading of the 2014/15 season with Lucie Brock-Broido on Thursday, Sept. 25 at 8:30pm in the Frick Fine Arts Auditorium. Free and open to the public.

Lucie Brock-Broido, 9/25, 8:30pm, Frick Fine Arts

Hello Again, Pittsburgh!

 

It’s that time of year again —the Pittsburgh Contemporary Writers Series is back! First up on the roster is the poet and Pittsburgh native, Lucie Brock-Broido.

Lucie Brock-Broido  is the recipient of fellowships from the NEA and the Guggenheim Foundation, as well as awards from the American Poetry Review and the Academy of American Arts and Letters.

In an interview with Carol Maso for BOMB magazine in 1995, she says that her “theory is that a poem is troubled into its making. It’s not a thing that blooms; it’s a thing that wounds.” Lucie’s theory is apparent in Stay, Illusion, a volume of poems that Brock-Broido released in 2013.

 

Below is a reading from “Stay, Illusion.”

 

 


 

Please join us for our first reading of the 2014/15 season with Lucie Brock-Broido on Thursday, Sept. 24 at 8:30pm in the Frick Fine Arts Auditorium. Free and open to the public.

hot off the presses . . .

pcws 2014

Please join us for a joint reading by Dana Ward and Anne Boyer this Thursday, April 10 at 830pm at the Frick Fine Arts Auditorium

The next year, or perhaps the year after, I was there with Karen in the spring. I had Chris Nealon’s book The Joyous Age in my bag, & we read some of that aloud. The ideas that so warm & so harm humankind were sprawled around us: students making out, a building’s altitude of cloud, the sun, & the conceptions of the sun, the moneyed school like love with bordered grounds, the sound of verse read aloud between friends. Conrad’s hair was getting longer then. He’d vowed to let it grow until the wars came to an end. Our books may one day be composed by kissing his bare scalp.

 

by Dana Ward, from the forthcoming issue of Washington Square.

She keeps repea…

She keeps repeating herself. She keeps quoting country songs no one knows. She makes these technology references like Bluetooth and reference to things like streets and boulevards and maps and city planning like she has gone into a trance and come back as a global positioning system. But the streets are sexual because they are a place for display and Bluetooth is sexual because it allows people and their machines to hook up to one another. Don’t you understand anything? This is a poem about sex / this is a poem about work / this is a poem about information and the hollowed life.

by anne boyer in a glimpse of

Please join us for a joint reading by Anne Boyer and Dana Ward this Thursday, April 10 at 830pm in the Frick Fine Arts Auditorium.

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