Writing Our Way Home

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In-process- Anansi with Parchment Figures, Doubles, Doppelgängers, Clones

In-process- Anansi with Parchment Figures, Doubles, Doppelgängers, Clones from Brenda Clews on Vimeo.This bit of fun needs a poem! I'm thinking something with Anansi, the trickster African spider god...I'd like to handwrite the poem onto the video, if I can figure out how, but won't be able to animate it.I'm working on a longer videopoem with more of this footage, close-ups and so on, but thought
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Stone #31

Anansi took the heat and put it in a pot and hung it in the silk cotton tree. That's why we have winter storms, I am sure of it.                                          
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A Promo Player

Hey, cool! A promo player with 4 sample tracks (though it looks like it doesn't travel by RSS feed or email subscription).From my latest poetry album: Starfire.                                          
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Stone #30

A lit, white, outdoor patio curtain billows, and I, videotaping it, frighten the owner in my black hooded coat and huge Sorrel boots. The night blasts.
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Stone #29: Opposite Women Who Are The Same

Spring generates below the frozen ground. The green, the brown rising. Darkly._The stone, drawn from the stream-of-consciousness writing in the drawing.In the endless greys, browns, taupes and whites of winter, I seem to be deeply missing the green! My subconscious offering compensatory imagery - or that's what it seems. Buried in masses of green.While working on this drawing, I spilt half a bottle
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Stone #28

...when the light casts two shadows, and you hear footsteps within footsteps, and you realize you're following yourself...
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Photographer of White Clay

Your clay-whitened bodies covered with cracks like dry riverbeds on the surface of the moon.Cracked and dry as a desert. Denuded of identity, warmth, flush skin tones. No bright highlights, no glamour. Bodies risen from clay pools, an earthen pottery.No colour, erase difference. Frozen white ghosts on the edge of time, a sea of pale mud, a genesis.You are Adam and Eve, the beginning of all beginnings,
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Stone #27

the draft you deleted | remains an absence | in the final version || deleted images | indelible absences | in what remainsor:the draft you deletedremains an absencein the final versiondeleted imagesindelible absencesin what remains
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Stone #26

One rich, round, ripe Sardinian olive. Green, stuffed with pimento, steeped and plucked from a pot of salt, garlic and oil. Redolent.
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