WILD WILD WHATEVER

SARA RENEE MARSHALL Writer, teacher and doctoral student in Athens, Ga. To correspond: sara r marshall at gmail dot com.

[wildwildwhatever]

Champagne wishes and caviar dreams, y'all.

[wildwildwhatever]

There are a few things to report from our household. Okay, this is the only news: Saint Francis. He is one year old and weighs 10 pounds and loves a toy monkey and cuddling.

[wildwildwhatever]

Dispatches from modernity.

[wildwildwhatever]

I’ve been writing letters to writers I love and posting them at Ink Node. Today’s: for Julie Carr. 

[wildwildwhatever]

Deep summer, Athens, Ga.

[wildwildwhatever]

Deep summer, Athens, Ga.

[wildwildwhatever]

Deep summer, Athens, Ga.

[wildwildwhatever]

In other anachronistic news, here are two, um, prose items?

Whatever: http://www.lavaguejournal.com/lavague04/marshall.php

All hail editor (and artist) Jennifer Pilch.

[wildwildwhatever]

I have disappeared here (and yet somewhere go on living), but here are two poems: http://www.jellyfishmagazine.org/12/marshall.html

Many thanks to the editors at Jellyfish--Anne, Phillip, Gale. Read my fine digital neighbors, especially Natalie Eilbert.

[wildwildwhatever]

May, Rotterdam, NL: here we are–all of us.

[wildwildwhatever]

Yesterday I was the Everyday Genius (thanks to editor Brian Foley), and “everyday” implies it’s not too late to inform you. EG featured part of a new (and still growing) long poem called TO BE NEW FOR THE EMPIRE.

I read a lot of 2014 projections from our so-called liberal economists. This poem started with some command-form instructions, then grew into a broader meditation on what female personhood and capital have in common or what masculinity would have women be.

[wildwildwhatever]

Poet-editor-dynamos Stacey Tran & Travis John Meyer printed this poem pamphlet for Poor Claudia's Tab series. If you are in Denver, Colorado or Athens, Georgia, ask & you shall receive.

[wildwildwhatever]

Reactions.

[wildwildwhatever]

"Sare": a work that explores the fabric of a friendship by Nick Bray.

[wildwildwhatever]

[wildwildwhatever]

Said peach lodged in the night sky.

[wildwildwhatever]

This is a short summary of yesterday.

Loretta Lynn & poet Lynn Xu & I celebrated our palindrome birthday—4/14/14, a brisk spring day after a light snow here in Denver. I turned 31 years old, walked in the sunlight looking for blossoms, wrote a poem, and spoke to my friends and family on the telephone. For the 10,000th time, I thought “I have the best friends in the world.” A delivery man knocked on my door and handed me lilies and spray roses from an admirer. I ate dinner with friends and my brother, and I sipped on a vieux carre.

Later, I drove to Dinosaur Ridge with someone special, and we talked about distraction while we fixed our eyes on the shadow of the earth overtaking the moon and the sun’s reflection making the shadowy moon red.

When I zoom in on photos, the blood moon is a ragged peach.