tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61714878656232137682024-03-18T03:20:39.358-04:00The Storialistpoems, practice, and process
by Hannah StephensonHannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.comBlogger1688125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-29449765585017925442019-01-16T13:21:00.001-05:002019-01-16T13:21:07.534-05:00Shore<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9-_DrjbfoN8RqwlAtLn49gZZ27_Re4u035z9HQ7dEW46rhI8jCi5W4Ng1Y_57QbM0156qo6jNSqU6SPS3Bb1QxmN9bWejzYnOurnf2LjxSsraQNS0Rprp1FoQxC_YBLGUxjgo-ma6bVY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-01-16+at+1.17.08+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1212" data-original-width="1014" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9-_DrjbfoN8RqwlAtLn49gZZ27_Re4u035z9HQ7dEW46rhI8jCi5W4Ng1Y_57QbM0156qo6jNSqU6SPS3Bb1QxmN9bWejzYnOurnf2LjxSsraQNS0Rprp1FoQxC_YBLGUxjgo-ma6bVY/s640/Screen+Shot+2019-01-16+at+1.17.08+PM.png" width="532" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Very happy to share this poem of mine that's now up at Ovenbird! It was inspired by watching and rewatching Moana with my older son (among other things). Read <a href="https://ovenbirdpoetry.com/shore/" target="_blank">the poem here</a>, and<a href="https://ovenbirdpoetry.com/" target="_blank"> check out the entire issue here</a>. And if you haven't seen Moana, please do yourself a favor and immediately watch!Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com120tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-13327620528194576232018-09-11T13:24:00.000-04:002018-09-11T13:24:15.696-04:00My Writing Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjNMXtsCxzeIJHTxFZOD4mm2pkuk_s0wxAfQVrRQPrQHWSQdRVDMyUNTvXsSo9OMhZCm9G-9_eFGfNfhrCkSEyiF3BrJbK9tGFWlRFybOsIWgPW8XcamoDw_sx10ibb8GbJrirrIMh5c/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-09-11+at+1.15.51+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1252" data-original-width="1600" height="499" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjNMXtsCxzeIJHTxFZOD4mm2pkuk_s0wxAfQVrRQPrQHWSQdRVDMyUNTvXsSo9OMhZCm9G-9_eFGfNfhrCkSEyiF3BrJbK9tGFWlRFybOsIWgPW8XcamoDw_sx10ibb8GbJrirrIMh5c/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-09-11+at+1.15.51+PM.png" width="640" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
A big thank you to <a href="http://mysmallpresswritingday.blogspot.com/2018/09/hannah-stephenson-my-writing-day-august.html" target="_blank">Rob McClennan (whose work I've long followed) for including me</a> in his new project about how writers spend their days (click the link to read my piece). As you know, I've long been interested in process...but it's so messy and unconsolidated for me in my current life. And that's not a bad thing.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Have you ever recorded and shared how your day goes down? Or analyzed the changes in your own creative rituals and schedules? It's bizarre and very revealing.</div>
<br />Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-8848014408013471552018-05-24T15:49:00.000-04:002018-05-24T15:49:11.280-04:00Paint the Cake With Fire<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Vn2lfAVUMt-vmB6pf6TE_T_3DqfYsHCLw-QR4k-Mq9j3CPocqsZCDR9XxK20p2EY4u_XwIfzpVLYqYZ_qmi_ZK8g4TiTaCbFMDhd8FulfylWdgsx-wnzRw1veuck7q3HBbpY_T3jomI/s1600/1807818-BWUNWAQH-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="770" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Vn2lfAVUMt-vmB6pf6TE_T_3DqfYsHCLw-QR4k-Mq9j3CPocqsZCDR9XxK20p2EY4u_XwIfzpVLYqYZ_qmi_ZK8g4TiTaCbFMDhd8FulfylWdgsx-wnzRw1veuck7q3HBbpY_T3jomI/s640/1807818-BWUNWAQH-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Surprise Party," by <a href="https://www.saatchiart.com/fredbelaubre" target="_blank">Frederic Belaubre</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Paint the Cake With Fire<br /><br />For the first days weeks of a baby’s life all<br />we say is Look how tiny he is and beautiful<br />And then within a month or two it starts<br />Look how big she’s getting<br />How is time moving so quickly<br />Invent a new creature<br />and through him time emerges<br />At first you are the new creature<br />and then you can only marvel at the small<br />ones emerging from it seems nowhere<br />And the new ones make us old and uncool<br />which means we know the unendingness<br />of time has ended<br />And no one declares at our birthdays<br />Look how old she is<br />and still alive<br />except for ourselves Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-14230631207302927152018-05-23T14:01:00.000-04:002018-05-23T14:01:22.776-04:00New poem up in Matter--"Also Me"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj27yobC4ghOPCk8uffjYCbEvBqZ1NBnbDvHQDem1xj4L1a5UmKrW0lcGuTJ8zNlS0N47kF_NA3ouRBFeS0nXtwnHpJz53ty5GRpVUW3AucihvwEQxYjWT-XEGNTeP-Rl08tTLWCoD_7cE/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-05-23+at+1.56.22+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1168" data-original-width="1444" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj27yobC4ghOPCk8uffjYCbEvBqZ1NBnbDvHQDem1xj4L1a5UmKrW0lcGuTJ8zNlS0N47kF_NA3ouRBFeS0nXtwnHpJz53ty5GRpVUW3AucihvwEQxYjWT-XEGNTeP-Rl08tTLWCoD_7cE/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-05-23+at+1.56.22+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Happy spring, everyone! I'm really pleased to have a new poem up at <a href="https://mattermonthly.com/" target="_blank">Matter,</a> which bills itself as "A (somewhat) monthly journal of political poetry and commentary." You can <a href="https://mattermonthly.com/2018/05/02/also-me/" target="_blank">read the poem here</a>.<br />
<br />
I really love what the editors, Virginia Konchan and Glenn Shaheen, do with this space, and I'm honored to share an issue with some other wonderful poets (including my pal<a href="http://www.leahumansky.com/" target="_blank"> Leah Umansky</a>, who has <a href="https://mattermonthly.com/2018/05/02/the-city-continues/" target="_blank">beautiful collages </a>in the issue!).<br />
<br />
<br />Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-11291403578512938272018-01-25T12:58:00.002-05:002018-01-25T12:58:43.872-05:00Family VacationFamily Vacation<br /><br />I am on a beach<br />I am in a poem<br />I write to you from the inside of it <br /><br />On vacation it will be 3:30<br />and you will have done nothing<br />except for nap <br /><br />and turn the bed into Beach, Jr.<br />with the sand you wore <br />and keep finding<br /><br />A family is a nap<br />is a door we close to chaos<br />a quiet room not always quiet in a loud house<br /><br />One night it came to me<br />as I listened from the balcony<br />The ocean is the world’s pulse <br /><br />The beach will teach us<br />dishevelment and disorder<br />and how to hang onto light<br />Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-26627822098725747272018-01-12T12:20:00.001-05:002018-01-12T12:20:40.495-05:00FellowshipFellowship<br /><br />Don’t count your chickens before they are hatched<br />and don’t count your kitchens if they are unlatched<br />and if you do count your unhatchlings call them eggs<br />and know that they are real as they doze in their shells<br />and if you count a dozen you can either have a feast<br />or twelve new pets or twelve porcelain water balloons<br />or a dozen marvels of biology and construction <br />built to shatter by chisel of innermost agitation <br />Don’t count your mortifications to be or to come<br />but if you do search your pocket or pillowcase<br />and locate this card which I have placed there<br />for you my fellow fallible being It is embossed<br />With one finger feel the tiny skyline of its inscription <br />which reads Member of the Mere Mortals<br />since Birthday (Membership included with being born)Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-19516821813226228182018-01-02T05:35:00.000-05:002018-01-02T05:35:28.811-05:00"One," by Dunja Jung<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6fbfC-hoIsu5p2N93vRue8tU-cy_cq_E50Al7H0bjsGjlc4VfmvtT7PXxBwr5Hd9w66-XjHb3maScdcZZlYOcgbT5KXxzncecsbq7INN05Lq4UACdc4ob_CDXYemS0Pq0ayVj4CZuUEg/s1600/dunjajung.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1256" data-original-width="432" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6fbfC-hoIsu5p2N93vRue8tU-cy_cq_E50Al7H0bjsGjlc4VfmvtT7PXxBwr5Hd9w66-XjHb3maScdcZZlYOcgbT5KXxzncecsbq7INN05Lq4UACdc4ob_CDXYemS0Pq0ayVj4CZuUEg/s640/dunjajung.png" width="219" /></a></div>
<br />
"One," by <a href="https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-One/942081/3297755/view" target="_blank">Dunja Jung</a>Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-33274008087429329292018-01-01T14:29:00.000-05:002018-01-01T14:29:03.114-05:0011<br /><br />Candle rising to its feet<br />fed by cake of snow <br />and calendar Pioneer <br />numeral Glyph of self<br />Bookmark to place <br />within memory Here<br />the first smile Here<br />the first step First <br />word First school First<br />remembered loneliness<br />First good kiss One<br />a visitation A thumb<br />Freshly downed arrow<br />A lamppost to circle<br />If all else goes to crumb<br />look at this pillar this<br />elevator shaft with open<br />doors Read the plaque<br />that says You invented <br />a new way to invite air<br />into body You were bark<br />trunk birdhouse bird worm<br />You are flight You are<br />flying Here is the place<br />you whispernamed LiftoffHannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-63735453545652706272017-12-21T12:16:00.000-05:002017-12-21T12:16:01.541-05:00How to make a vortexPlace a clock on a shelf for a least two weeks<br />
<br />
Look at the clock and trust that it knows time<br />
<br />
Allow life to continue, forget about the clock but continue to glance its way: make sandwiches, fill glasses with water, scatter and gather toys<br />
<br />
One night, remove the clock<br />
<br />
You will find yourself turning your head and searching for the time<br />
The clock wants to get back up on the shelf but is locked in the closet<br />
Now the missing clock wants your gaze<br />
<br />
<br />Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-42673100791670574962017-12-20T15:54:00.000-05:002017-12-21T12:16:59.386-05:00Maybe the poem can be<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #454545; font-size: small; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">the prints skittering across the snow-skinned yard</span></span></span><br />
<div style="color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">and the wondering about the small body who produced them</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">The melting artifact with the teeming forest breathing in its ear</span></span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-89662533470469819782017-10-12T12:04:00.000-04:002017-10-12T12:04:28.834-04:00Interview at Word CarverHello, friends. How are you? It's fall, and I'm ready.
As many of you know, one of my favorite projects is <a href="http://bit.ly/pagingcolumbus" target="_blank">Paging Columbu</a>s, the reading series I run. <a href="http://amydalrymple.net/" target="_blank">Amy Dalrymple</a> and <a href="https://cynthiarosi.com/" target="_blank">Cynthia Rosi</a> of the Word Carver podcast were kind enough to post this recent interview with me about Paging Columbus and poetry.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://wordcarver.com/paging-columbus-slam-poet-barbara-fant/">Hope you'll take a listen and enjoy here.</a> You can also hear the enormously-talented Barbara Fant read at our last Paging Columbus event.Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-16882266570537964622017-09-10T13:01:00.001-04:002017-09-10T13:01:30.303-04:00Paradise<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/N9hkBqFQmHE" width="480"></iframe></div>
This was one of my all-time favorite videos as a child...we constantly borrowed it from the library, and I watched it so many times I think we wore the tape out. My dad recently sent me the link to it, and I laughed when I heard this song, which features prominently in Kill Bill (also one of my favorite movies). Fascinating how aesthetic and sound embed themselves in us...Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-5160841410349278232017-08-30T17:21:00.001-04:002017-08-30T17:22:11.701-04:00Three New Poems at Gold Wake Live<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOQ8fQ1DkIyCJdL1UDTf3vHQyndLJVMpLbcgZPPaMfMzN3fshZLA6MKHr903u7xaWcopKx4WL6W4-xFn9Ge-ELpVxVnX4KV0fp88W6gMP8_IQ-k5zP3DqLJNCX6p90IHEKQtqcSL_x9aI/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-08-30+at+5.16.23+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1074" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOQ8fQ1DkIyCJdL1UDTf3vHQyndLJVMpLbcgZPPaMfMzN3fshZLA6MKHr903u7xaWcopKx4WL6W4-xFn9Ge-ELpVxVnX4KV0fp88W6gMP8_IQ-k5zP3DqLJNCX6p90IHEKQtqcSL_x9aI/s640/Screen+Shot+2017-08-30+at+5.16.23+PM.png" width="356" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I have <a href="https://www.goldwakelive.com/product/hannah-stephenson/">three new poems up at the beautiful Gold Wake Live</a> (a brand new online publication from Gold Wake Press!). Here's one of them. Hope you enjoy the poems--<a href="https://www.goldwakelive.com/" target="_blank">the whole issue is great</a>. The design is lovely. Also, writer pals--they are <a href="https://www.goldwakelive.com/guidelines/" target="_blank">open to submissions</a>! Send them some beauty. Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-64807625846501433182017-08-24T15:25:00.000-04:002017-08-24T15:25:31.979-04:00Arwen Donahue's Sensitive Storytelling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxaF9otY443hYUpR-XzDwxIZUw2oyHbY02KuC21mavbehNToMXLfyym6F7l_Aaov0pokmpxf4d1LhAv6tPy_4vib73KOUoUaoudExi_qGnBfxJj1DcSP4Hsj7IPzD4atNMTlCZgsBloEs/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-08-24+at+3.21.40+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1075" data-original-width="1600" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxaF9otY443hYUpR-XzDwxIZUw2oyHbY02KuC21mavbehNToMXLfyym6F7l_Aaov0pokmpxf4d1LhAv6tPy_4vib73KOUoUaoudExi_qGnBfxJj1DcSP4Hsj7IPzD4atNMTlCZgsBloEs/s640/Screen+Shot+2017-08-24+at+3.21.40+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
I'm currently obsessing over <a href="http://arwendonahue.com/" target="_blank">Arwen Donahue</a>'s work. I especially adore her new graphic stories at The Rumpus--here's one posted just today, <a href="http://therumpus.net/2017/08/the-hungriest-color/" target="_blank">"The Hungriest Color."</a>Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-68483954200344954902017-08-14T15:10:00.000-04:002017-08-14T15:10:43.346-04:00Kelly Popoff's Collages<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVWBcjH_M5-HAVv_rbfZ1zRluulyghlVH4JsJDZeqHVUhozHa92AQgA-E491fU-z9S876fAcYJ-p8n03cRO3iNr2ybyWESMCFYHB7JOJOh0N5Xb2VISgmzWwtilPomcBnVslYgn6NBh-A/s1600/kellypopoff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="726" data-original-width="1000" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVWBcjH_M5-HAVv_rbfZ1zRluulyghlVH4JsJDZeqHVUhozHa92AQgA-E491fU-z9S876fAcYJ-p8n03cRO3iNr2ybyWESMCFYHB7JOJOh0N5Xb2VISgmzWwtilPomcBnVslYgn6NBh-A/s640/kellypopoff.jpg" width="640" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I can't get enough of <a href="http://kellypopoff.org/" target="_blank">Kelly Popoff'</a>s gorgeous artwork. This stunning piece is called "First Grade (O Children #00039)," and I just keep looking at it, into each child's face, at the images projected/revealed there.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I hope you're writing, or reading, or making art. I am! Sending you creativity and gentleness and the energy to keep going.</div>
<div class="image-title">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<br />Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-76810600730707687782017-07-11T13:56:00.003-04:002017-07-11T13:57:46.852-04:00Revising Toward This<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/UQ_QqtXoyQw/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UQ_QqtXoyQw?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Things are quiet here on the blog, but I'm bee-busily revising. This image has been helpful for me, and maybe it will be for you, too. </div>
Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-39887110496462793472017-05-12T12:51:00.001-04:002017-05-12T12:52:23.142-04:00Cross-Pollination and Book Trailers<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/C0uDzG4g31E" width="560"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
This week, I received a beautiful gift. My friend Amy Monticello (who is a <a href="http://www.rolereboot.org/author/amonticello/" target="_blank">wonderful writer</a> and teacher) had her students choose books to read whose authors agreed to be interviewed. I was happy to do so, and her student Kristen Sallaberry reached out a couple of months ago with some fun questions about my book,<i> In the Kettle, the Shriek</i>. Yesterday, Amy shared that Kristen made this gorgeous book trailer to accompany my book. I absolutely love it--I found it so touching to see how sensitively Kristen translated the mood and images from the poems. I loved the way the camera treats landscape and details of scenery, the dreamy atmosphere, and the introspective music (I didn't know the "Lanterns Lit" song before, but it is right up my alley).<br />
<br />
What an absolutely beautiful and inspiring surprise. What a gift writers and readers and artists are to one another.Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-9702597572793279082017-04-18T11:35:00.000-04:002017-04-18T11:35:08.864-04:00What youth isis the gift of unaccounted for time<br /><br />What to make of our unremembered times<br />Rinsing my face<br />Pulling a loaf of wheat bread from the grocery shelf<br />by its twist-tied piggy tail of cellophane<br />An elevator One elevator in a lifetime of elevators<br />All that has happened in one minute fed<br />forever to the meter<br /><br />What will it mean if I enjoy these or not<br /><br />Youth doesn’t askHannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-65845760037804089882017-03-30T06:00:00.000-04:002017-03-30T06:00:03.692-04:00Vista<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj14DcHLa_TY9H1Pbl70xIY3mVrmpipBmfv7_uYZ7Fhk-WsAjcBFRaZec7lABnTW7YOznOIKabKzU2ZY4hOij-drbOKAg8p-aLwQTY7Hf7TGeb17EKOT9pugjJxkXLgQ_pwVmUOtvYz9cM/s1600/1973293-XDLFOWHF-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj14DcHLa_TY9H1Pbl70xIY3mVrmpipBmfv7_uYZ7Fhk-WsAjcBFRaZec7lABnTW7YOznOIKabKzU2ZY4hOij-drbOKAg8p-aLwQTY7Hf7TGeb17EKOT9pugjJxkXLgQ_pwVmUOtvYz9cM/s1600/1973293-XDLFOWHF-7.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Somewhere outside some village," by <a href="https://www.saatchiart.com/praprabhu" target="_blank">Prashant Prabhu</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Vista<br /><br />I.<br />The eye hurries and hurtles and rolls downhill to gobble it all up <br /><br />It: the green proof that places<br />are alive and that we can trim and locket up <br />their tendrils <br /><br />All: the Great Sweeping Up<br />the room that the broom invents<br />with wishful walls<br /><br />Up: down<br />inside A secret-clasping place<br />which we know is called a safe<br /><br />II.<br />There is beauty here and I am anxious to claim it<br />There is pain here and I am anxious to reject it<br />but not by pretending it does not exist<br /><br />Where has my disembodied voice gone<br />Now when I speak all I can say is baby boy<br />and ache and love and worry<br /><br />Voice what has happened to you<br />Flower sounds like terror and power<br />just like it always has <br /><br />and more than it ever has before<br />Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-33233994218102524932017-03-28T13:55:00.000-04:002017-03-28T13:55:15.885-04:00The Woods by John Muir<span style="color: #454545;"><span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody";">The Woods by John Muir<br /><br />In the dream this is a poem<br />I am failing to memorize<br /><br />Each time I lift the page<br />the lines have shifted themselves<br /><br />It is becoming a different poem<br />because I am trying to memorize it<br /><br />It wants to elude me a reader <br />who wants to own it Like every poem <br /><br />Every song's running faucet<br />Every skypatch of canvas with<br /><br />its shoulder braced against a door<br />of pigment and crushed minerals<br /><br />Like the woods Definition<br />Clusters of trees whose edge<br /><br />you cannot see Whose ending<br />mercifully you will not reach <br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span>Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-77674917613598721382017-02-10T05:12:00.000-05:002017-02-10T05:12:04.199-05:00Google Query Subtexts<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-SFarx93kQg27x_eS7vPc4wB1-pV6S2y-KGWLpEWE176YHkqLuscqgg2x5JoBJNqrRG_UAbbWMRmhcMwhrRbnaZWJ8hV5g1J_6VTZljnquTqnoCu1Mb88MwiURUJB-Rd7Dv5r8rYn08g/s1600/1639571-SRPMOZTF-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-SFarx93kQg27x_eS7vPc4wB1-pV6S2y-KGWLpEWE176YHkqLuscqgg2x5JoBJNqrRG_UAbbWMRmhcMwhrRbnaZWJ8hV5g1J_6VTZljnquTqnoCu1Mb88MwiURUJB-Rd7Dv5r8rYn08g/s1600/1639571-SRPMOZTF-7.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>"Colonies We Wanted to Make," by <a href="https://www.saatchiart.com/michaelvmanalo" target="_blank">Michael Vincent Manalo</a></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Google Query Subtexts<br /><br />Am I a horrible person<br />Am I selfish<br />Am I dying<br />Would my grandparents say<br />Where did my grandparents come from<br />Where did their beliefs come from<br />What will I regret in twenty years<br />Am I dying tomorrow<br />Am I lazy<br />How can I help another human with all of their interiority<br />Will my child learn how to live without me<br />Will he feel loved and know how to locate happiness <br />and how to reach for it<br />Will my child be ok<br />How long do we have together<br />All of us who love each other what do we get to keep <br />What portion Any of it<br />Using what I already have what can I eat<br />How does one prepare this strange vegetable<br />Can I ask an imaginary great grandparent how they would do it<br />What crucial step have I forgotten<br />Why haven’t I learned this yet<br />Can I prevent regret<br />What will stop the world’s insistent imploding<br />Does how I look become a portal into my self<br />Am I accurately communicating my values<br />through my home<br />How is this other human doing<br />How do other humans live<br />Am I doing this right<br />Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-70378828378678132032017-02-07T21:46:00.000-05:002017-02-07T21:46:54.248-05:00Every Poem Has Three Chests<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOXJ004X19PjKIx4x9XlJy8-amPW9HsK_7zlqd-B3cjeWdsLoqFtyzL8GJsYquuxB_ag4aw-3IQSGKDBmfP2Ql_y10XlZt5IYEtWd_EsZTBYCJMJ6xEGYhczJAqbDwmuwk81AnIL5JLj8/s1600/2672673-WUTXGTIO-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOXJ004X19PjKIx4x9XlJy8-amPW9HsK_7zlqd-B3cjeWdsLoqFtyzL8GJsYquuxB_ag4aw-3IQSGKDBmfP2Ql_y10XlZt5IYEtWd_EsZTBYCJMJ6xEGYhczJAqbDwmuwk81AnIL5JLj8/s1600/2672673-WUTXGTIO-7.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Heart-Ants," by <a href="https://www.saatchiart.com/songmiheart" target="_blank">Songmi Heart</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Every Poem Has Three Chests<br /><br />and so three hearts<br />Yours, reader/breather,<br /><br />mine,<br />and then that mysterious third one<br /><br />belonging to<br />these lights-on-a-string,<br />these very wordsHannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-72639623771698815002016-12-31T05:35:00.000-05:002016-12-31T05:35:05.759-05:00Well Here We Are<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRAXI5l4NnOYvCkgX_v68rTig3g6Btb2dzNinIPvQpIcRwRaueL1qyXW50dvQhROC8Lrc6Aq1JD7BcPvIZxlqsT1WbziiLbFW9jJv9b6M2YHBZMOHm5jWWJDj2WfxlPJO713n1ggj9A08/s1600/2463404-KZNXLPLG-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRAXI5l4NnOYvCkgX_v68rTig3g6Btb2dzNinIPvQpIcRwRaueL1qyXW50dvQhROC8Lrc6Aq1JD7BcPvIZxlqsT1WbziiLbFW9jJv9b6M2YHBZMOHm5jWWJDj2WfxlPJO713n1ggj9A08/s1600/2463404-KZNXLPLG-7.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Night Travel," <a href="https://www.saatchiart.com/PaulaBaader" target="_blank">by Paula Baader</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Well Here We Are<br /><br />Sky taupe with snowlight and moonlight and cloud<br />crawling in the window and my son sleeping sprawled across my legs<br />going nowhere with Peter Pan <br />who as I understand it as an adult is a great menace<br />Outside zero bombs flay our neighborhood to its quaking skeleton<br />The only injury in this room is a cut on my pinky under a bandage<br />Everything is terrible<br />Everything is beautiful<br /><br />Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-75577183187092093602016-12-21T10:55:00.003-05:002016-12-21T11:00:05.026-05:00Shelter in Place<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Shelter in Place</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">My baby breathes on me</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and I match his breath</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This is a prayer</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Right now a man with a gun</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">is in a building at a university</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">a few miles from my home</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Those on campus are told to</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Shelter to Run Hide Fight</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">My startled heart shudders</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and flaps its wings Also now</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">parents all over the city and </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">country whose children are here </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">are praying together quaking</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">in terror but not alone </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Let us all be safe</span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Let us breathe </span></div>
<div style="color: #454545; direction: inherit; font-size: 17px;">
<br /></div>
Hannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6171487865623213768.post-13766576939918617282016-11-07T04:17:00.000-05:002016-11-07T04:17:00.866-05:00EgoEgo<br /><br />Snail warm in its shell<br />snug on some rock<br /><br />brandishing a riding crop<br />and chanting<br /><br />Where you live will make your<br />work beautiful <br />You need a city city city<br />What you need is to hurry<br /><br />I’m not saying to kill the poor thing<br />but maybe relocate it <br />Under that bush over there will doHannah Stephensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15792203070774504501noreply@blogger.com0