She Who Photographs

It's here!!!

2009-05-22T02:54:00.002-04:00

My book, "Who Holds a Hummingbird in Their Hands?", is finally in!

get your copy today for only $10!! [$2 s&h]

email me @ shewhophotographs@gmail.com to make arrangements!

Update

2009-01-04T10:17:00.003-05:00

Hey everyone. So, i'm just waiting on some art to be finished up and then the book will be sent off to the printers! Exciting!

if you missed the special pre-sale, don't worry you can still pre-order the book, it just won't come with the free gift, but you'll still get the book & the card explaining how the title came to be.

again, the book will be around 28 pages long, with a cardstock-type cover and contains around 25 pieces. some are full length poems, some are shorter, & there's also a few pieces of prose. it also includes the poem 'canada.' that was published in the June issue of the Chronogram. It also will include art by my good friend, Erin Loughran. Also, all copies will be hand-numbered & autographed and personalized to your liking.

the books are only $12/ea with $2 shipping/handling in the US/Canada

if you're interested in acquiring a book, email me at shewhophotographs@gmail.com and I'll send you info on where to send your payment.

I accept personal checks or money orders [but if you have a problem with one of those, let me know in your email].

now, if you just want to be kept up on how the book is going and aren't going to purchase right now, I still suggest you also email me to get on the mailing list [don't note here, because they could get lost in the shuffle! oh noes!].

other exciting news, you can now be a 'fan' of my writing on facebook!

click here to do so!

until next time.. GET THOSE EMAILS IN! :)

Who Holds a Hummingbird in Their Hands?

2008-12-13T12:21:00.001-05:00

hi.

so basically, I'm going to do a pre-sale of my chapbook, "Who Holds a Hummingbird in Their Hands?", to one] pay for the printing and two] know about how many copies the first run should be.

now, I'm not going to request any kind of monies for the book until the files are IN the hands [email?] of the printer so that I know this is a sure thing. ALSO! I'm putting someone else in charge of mailing them! [hahaha]

the book will be around 28 pages long, with a cardstock-type cover and contains around 25 pieces. some are full length poems, some are shorter, & there's also a few pieces of prose. it also includes the poem 'canada.' that was published in the June issue of the Chronogram. It also will include art by my good friend, Erin Loughran. Also, all copies will be hand-numbered.

here are a few of the poems that will be in it:

"the carrion
of us
weighs
too much
won't
fit in
my
carry on
bag
it'll hold
me
down
when
i try
to
take
flight."
"carrion"
[link]

"I know so many of the parts of you

the emo girl
with dashboard confessionals
providing a soundtrack,
while we chase the ghosts
of all the good things.

the soul queen
living in theory
with scarves in her hair
like jill scott and lauryn hill

the hood
playing that awful
john legend song
that no one understands
why I can't get more
than 30 seconds into it.."

"of you"
[link]

"larry has been 15 for one month
and he's looking down the barrel of a gun
he's got a crush on a peer
and now that peer says "run"
because it's deadly
to love differently

they say gay means happy
well then happy isn't any fun.."
"happy isn't any fun"
[link]

--

for this pre-sale, they're $12/ea with $2 shipping/handling and they'll include a card with the story of how the title came about. they'll also be autographed and personalized to your liking.

I'm hoping to sell at least 10 to cover all the printing costs, but all pre-sale books will still include the card, gift, autograph, and personalization.

if you're interested in acquiring a pre-sale book, email me at shewhophotographs@gmail.com and I'll send you info on where to send your payment.

I accept personal checks or money orders [but if you have a problem with one of those, let me know in your email].

now, if you just want to be kept up on how the book is going and aren't going to purchase right now, I suggest you also email me at shewhophotographs@gmail.com to get on the mailing list [don't note here, because they get lost in the shuffle].

and I want to thank everyone for making this possible through your encouragement, your belief in my writing, and of course, if you're buying a book. :)

Title of the Book

2008-12-06T11:00:00.000-05:00

so this is the official announcement of the title of my chapbook.. I've been holding onto it because I didn't want it to leak to my mum yet [it's a surprise for her] and because I wasn't sure it was going to stick AND because.. well.. I don't know.

it's going to be called "Who Holds a Hummingbird in Their Hands?" and if you wanna know why.. stay tuned!

[just please don't tell my mother!!]

[untitled.]

2008-10-18T14:25:00.003-04:00

she makes me want to pluck the sun out of the sky
have it gift wrapped
with a big frilly bow
and left on her doorstep
in honor
in hope that she'll love me back.

she makes me think
I should climb a mountain
and I could
and would
just to get her a drink
of the clearest water
she's ever had
touch her lips

yeah it's that bad.

it's because she makes me soar
on the days
[especially the days]
when my heart,
and head
can't take anymore.

it's because she can finish a sentence
I haven't even started yet.

it's because even when we
shudder and quake
shiver and break
when we've taken all we can take,
our hearts and minds
combined
rip up dictionaries,
throw the pieces to the floor,
and roll around
until the right words stick
and just as quickly as we shattered,
all the things that mattered in the first place
are back in their place
and we are whole
and holy.

and what do I do when a girl
who makes me this happy
falls into my lap and says
"see?"

and suddenly makes me see.

for the first time, I see.

I see the beauty of sun rays
pouring through my window, like a gift.
curtains there to block out the sun,
but still the light finds little places
to slip through
and I'm amazed
at how the patterns undo
me.

I see the
bluest blue sky
and it reminds me of the times
when she held me
with words
like security blankets
until I made it through
to the other side
where she was waiting
with her whole heart
held out
mine for the taking..

and I see that we can never be
except during all the hours, days, weeks,
when we are.
who knew arms could reach this far
because if you ask me,
I'll tell you
yes.

I feel her skin against mine
our heartbeats beating
not in time
but in harmony.
filling in the spots where the other gets weak
because it's a love that doesn't speak
but sings
and reminds you of your favourite song
when you were seven

the one that gets into
the empty parts of your soul
and makes you want to dance
how you dance
when no one is watching..

we are still here.

2008-08-10T14:45:00.001-04:00

tears and blood flow
in the same current
from our brothers & sisters
our brothersisters
our sisterbrothers
our in between &
our all encompassing.

we fight with blindfolds
over our eyes
tape over our mouths
arms & legs shackled.

but we are still here.

we grew too old too soon.

we've seen death;
we've seen birth.

we've marched down streets
& hidden in the dark.

we've built walls to protect ourselves
& we've broken down walls
to join communities together.

we are still here.

we've felt sticks & stones
& names,
we've felt bats.

we've felt misguided eyes
judging from afar,
we've been judged in our own homes.

we've been told we don't know what we want
we've been told that we love wrong.

yet we march & cry out
& sing songs
of victory.

& we mourn
& hide in our homes
& lick our wounds.

& when the dust dies down,
when our fallen are counted
& their names whispered into the night
from the choked up throats of
mothers and fathers
lovers & friends
strangers & cousins..

when the clouds clear,
we are still here.

vignettes

2008-07-14T22:56:00.006-04:00

i.
maybe she cut her hair and it was the most free she ever felt
every step a bounce
every sidewalk crack
a story to tell

ii.
I wanna hear one fashion designer say
"hips
are
in
fashion!"

instead we get:
"more cushion
for the pushin!"
oh
isn't that
quaint?

iii.
ignorance is bliss
like
little girls in
sunday best
skipping down
the wheelchair ramp
at the
funeral home.

iv.
queer girls
running around
trying to make their situations
into ani difranco songs

vi.
she has the walk
of a drag queen
on top of her game
on top of the stage
and in the hearts
of all the
queens-in-training

vii.
can we be beautiful again?

what is, was, and can never be.

2008-06-28T17:29:00.005-04:00

you're dirty.

fingers caked with
fish and worm guts
pizza flour
honeysuckle
pot and tobacco
dust from
the dozens of rocks
we crushed

designs
etched out
with fingertips

charcoal
smeared across
my legs
arms
breast

handprint
around your throat
while your eyes
burn green
or are they blue?

treehugger.
wrapped around the fallen trunk
while I run my fingers
through the impossible
softness
of your mohawk.

2 years later and I still can't resist
the memories
my fingertips ache to make

we negotiate and dance
around what was
what is
what isn't
and it's all
okay.

you do splits in my kitchen
you put ink under the top layer of my skin
[to replace yourself]
we watch diving birds
you know that even if there isn't
a hair
or bug
on my back,
to rub my skin anyway
because sometimes it can't be seen.

we flow like the river
we rise like the tide
you promise to take the doors
off the jeep
because you know I like to ride
with my feet outside
air the only thing I don't mind
touching my feet.

the faerytale, ended.
the revolution begun
I can still taste
the smell of you
on my
tongue

I'm not on fire
but the ashes come anyway
and I'm reborn
as the river washes them away
along with the rock dust we
left behind

carrion

2008-06-18T03:54:00.007-04:00

the carrion
of us
weighs
too much

won't
fit in
my
carry on
bag

it'll hold
me
down
when
i try
to
take
flight.

of you

2008-06-05T17:47:00.002-04:00

I know so many of the parts of you

the emo girl
with dashboard confessionals
providing a soundtrack,
while we chase the ghosts
of all the good things.

the soul queen
living in theory
with scarves in her hair
like jill scott and lauryn hill

the hood
playing that awful
john legend song
that no one understands
why I can't get more
than 30 seconds into it

the saboteur
taking our hearts,
which have been sponges
that spent 3 years collecting
us,
and squeezing out
every last drop.

the girl
interrupted
by the way
life
actually is.

the leo
stubborn
to your face
no apologies
no regrets

the bohemian
declaring
"no day but today!"
and living
during the breaths
between lines
of songs.

the girl with a guitar
a fast car
and a pen
that continues
to scrawl graffiti
on my body
and my heart
all through
the longest of decembers.

the artist
painting
canvases of
yesterday
and tomorrow.

the muse
inspiring
hearts to
take flight.

the little bird
who lets
me in
and lets
me hold her,
gently yet firmly
cupped in my hands,
while her wings heal
after she's fallen
from the
next empty nest.

the unspoken love
with her
hand in mine
and our lives
tied with string,
once
severed and
burned,
later picked back up
tied with every knot
and reinforced
with the rope
found in the backroom
of the thrift store of
our hearts
as they start
to beat as one again.

all of these things I know.
all of these things I hold.
all of these things are sacred.
all of these things are us.

Canada

2008-06-03T18:47:00.003-04:00

Let’s just quit our lives.
I’ll send you
a slip of paper
with coordinates
by carrier pigeon,
meet me there
and we’ll make art
we’ll make love
and throw it across
a canvas
we’ll make types of
love
never seen
before
and people will
flock like pigeons
to see the loves we’ve made
and we’ll
live on the
beauty
of their
hearts opening.

Just don’t forget
to eat the paper.

[poet's note: this was recently published in the june issue of the chronogram!]

happy isn't any fun

2008-05-11T10:52:00.002-04:00

larry has been 15 for one month
and he's looking down the barrel of a gun
he's got a crush on a peer
and now that peer says "run"
because it's deadly
to love differently

they say gay means happy
well then happy isn't any fun..

across the nation girls are kissing girls
and boys are kissing boys
and it's never that simple

and it is.

love is never that simple.

and it is.

love is like oxygen
breathe it in

they're denying us oxygen
they point their fingers
and they call our love
sin.

we're not fighting for our right to party
we're fighting for our right to marry
we're fighting to carry on traditions
like our forefathers
had before us

we're your doctors
and teachers
preachers
and lawyers
we're constructive members
of society
even though society continues
to shun us
and tell us that we're done
as they sign another bill
that denies us equal rights.

and still we
still we
and even still we
fight

we are not second-class citizens
we won't just go where you
can
fit
us
in
we demand equality
and we won't settle for anything less.

we're told they've done the best that they can
that their hands are tied
but it's all smoke and mirrors
and lies
because they don't want to try
for us.
but they expect us
to do what they want.

we're second class citizens
still you take our taxes
still you want us to vote
even still you want us
to abide by your laws.

so instead of face to face,
hand in hand,
we stand back to back..

it's a draw.

count to 10
and shoot on nine
it'll be just fine
you can rest your head again
they're just second class citizens

you teach your children hate
now look at what your lessons
can create.

why do lives exist
if you're just going to let them drown?
abide by our rules
and then
blow
blow
blow
the man down

larry has been 15 for one month
and he's staring down the barrel of a gun.

they say gay means happy
well then happy isn't any fun..

when will this be done?

how it falls..

2008-02-29T11:54:00.004-05:00

it's bathtime
and my best friend and roomie's
little girl's
2 & 3 years old
are looking up from their spot in the tub
and the way the water rolls down
their face is beauty

the way their faces light up
when we run a cup
of soap under the faucet
and bubbles pour out
accompanied by pearls of laughter

the way the smallest
grabs my hand in the hall
and says something
about ribbons
and I later learn that she was validating
all that I am
'it's ok to love women'

acceptance from the mouths of babes

and the way these words just fit
in my mind

she said the beauty of the rain is how it falls
but instead our teenage girls are concerned with shopping malls
and how the words of their peers
determine their 'true' beauty
so they starve themselves
of culture
and ideas
identity
and cry because they're not a size zero

I'm not a size zero

but I am mind
and spirit
I am curves
that don't quit
I am breasts and hips
I refuse
to give
into their shit

I refuse to let anyone tell me
that every inch of me isn't beautiful.
that I'm not a goddess in mortal form
that somehow a model's 80lb form
makes her superior

I will not declare myself inferior
because I will love my body
shoulders to hands
head to toes
breasts and belly
and the beautiful
places that only
few others get to know

I've got continents of beauty
that reside inside
and outside
of the skeleton that is me
but you won't see that skeleton pushing
through my skin

becoming
living
dead

so I'm sending a message
to the ear of every girl
who is or isn't a size zero

aren't you wondering
who's your little girl's hero?
strung out former child stars?
displaying the symptoms of withdrawal
on reality tv
because they have nothing left to lose
like the best poet you've ever read
losing her muse.

who is igniting a fire in their hearts?
is there a part of them that just wants to say stop?
but they just smile and nod and hide the tears
drying on their cheeks
with layers of liquid coverup
and sticking their fingers down their throat
behind a napkin to be polite

some how it's ok
to throw up
and throw out
every nutritional source
of what you are

I want to show them the beauty of the clouds that make shapes that send
preschoolers into frenzies of wonder:
'that one looks like a truck!'
'that one looks like a flower!'

the beauty of a dozen ladybugs
crawling up the side of a building
every last one of them good luck
if they choose you to land on.

ladybugs don't care about
the size of your thighs

when did we stop worrying about spilled milk, broken crayons, and
snacktime?

when did she forget that you're only supposed to stop being best friends
until after naptime?

when did loving become a crime?

when did guns replace hugs in the schoolyard?

when did hate become okay and have you made a difference in a child's
life today?

we've got to get back to the beauty. holding up a mirror to the world's
beat up face and saying 'you are beautiful'.

no matter the size, colour, shape. no matter the accent, homeland, or
name.

a stranger told me yesterday
that I was beautiful
and instead of bowing my head
and getting down on my knees
and acting as if
it was the only compliment
I'd ever received,
I held my head high
looked the stranger straight in the eyes
and said 'I know
and thank you
and you are beautiful, too'

I will not bow down
to societal norms
I will not cry
because I can't fit into the size
twos that you adorn
I will hold my head high
because it's the only way to be

and when you see me
you'll see
that beauty is me.

2007-12-16T03:03:00.001-05:00

it's amazing the harm we can cause with our bodies
passing on these physical
mental
social diseases
and somehow these things don't stir up
a riot
in everyone..
just those who can't take it anymore
these bleeding hearts
who can't let those who've suffered
remain nameless
claimless
hidden behind a cloak of
look-over-there-don't-you-dare-look-over-HERE...

they claim
live free or die!
but what if you're free and dying inside?
but what if you're free falling
because no one cares and no one is calling
to see if you're even alive
every 'I hope you're well'
is curt and contrived
because all we have
are the patterns we've fallen into
all we have are the lives that we've led
and in the end
it's not enough to justify the means
it's not enough to justify the pain
in the end it's not enough to justify the fact
that one victim is still nameless on the tip of
the tongue of our fore fathers
while a thieving cowboy claims
that he did all he could
and the murderers he's hired
to smile and nod
all
smile
and nod
from the comfort of their luxury
chaise lounges
in their luxury houses
watching the view from their 27"
plasma screen television
complete with a pirated copy
of the revolution
because
the revolution
is not being televised

they hide behind religion
like they hide the existence
of separation of church
and state

they think america is the holy land
and that everyone comes here to pray
doesn't matter if you're black, handicapped
or gay
you too can be forgiven
if you just hide the life you're living
repent and pay tithe
while these nice fellas pull the wool over
your
their
our eyes

and when they say 'I hope you're doing well'
you know the truth
because when they forget your name
you realize
those victims are you.

not for you, for me this time..

2007-11-17T02:10:00.000-05:00

i see you starting
into startling confusion
as you bring to the surface
the confusion of

body &
self

realizing that when they
made you and chose your body
off the shelf, somehow they
got body & soul mixed up...

that silent sleeping soul, creeping out
now, through dress, bound breasts,
& familiar foreign hormones coursing through your veins
knowing everyday you have to stab
yourself in the heart
you have to stab
who they thought you were in the back
as you stab another syringe into your
body
wondering how god or whomever is running
the gig upstairs
managed to fuck up
so badly.

couldn't he see when he made you
that a square peg doesn't fit into a round hole
no matter how you turn it?
no, instead, she brought you home and shaved
down the corners until the roundness of your
hips began to show & you slipped
awkwardly
satisfactorily
into the pre-cut hole.

he shaped you however she chose
stuck you in pink and pantyhose
& left you here to deal
with it
on your own.

Apres moi le deluge

2007-10-16T03:02:00.000-04:00

can you find me?
i'm the last of what's left
of what you left me
when i turned away and left you
for good.

two years doesn't seem long at 3am

and in the end it doesn't matter if i get the dates right
it just matters if i write ambiguously enough
nonsensical enough

i'm weighed against things you never even knew about
so i grab her hand, hold it against my soul
and leap off the curb.

third place.

2007-09-08T00:43:00.001-04:00

he told me how he kept that picture
with him everyday.
repeating himself til he's convinced us both.

every once in awhile
i get to see the daddy who was always mine..
it's as rare as the second coming of Christ
especially since he never came in the first place.
[and he doesn't even know what it's like to come in third place.]

out of anger//back to beautiful

2007-08-13T08:25:00.001-04:00

i will not post out of anger. i will not open the floodgates and lash out. i will not tell you about how i don't want to sleep with her, but i want to just with the hope that you'd find out.

but these things are true:
you wouldn't care anyway. you said so.

it would just 'confirm' things in your skull where everything bunches up at once and pulses and gives new life to more crazy.

i would feel worse because i slept with a friend who i don't have those feelings for.. once upon a blue moon, when we were kids, yes.. but i didn't even know it then.

[and i know you'll say i'm still just a kid.]

----

i'm getting back to beautiful. and i don't care if you're here for the transformation.

because you wouldn't care anyway.

Writing the words

2007-08-04T00:11:00.001-04:00

i'm gonna write the words you hold in your hands
with your head tipped back
off the bed
while women and men
roam your native lands

i'm gonna write the words waiting on your lips
swollen and red
while they hold your hips
stamping.
burning
engraving
'i was here'.

i'm gonna write the words that you
hold in secret places
where you go
when your private space
is entered
and you are left
violated and left dripping
with them.

i'm gonna write em on your chest backwards
so that every morning,
when you stand naked in front of a mirror
you'll be reminded.

i'm gonna write em between your legs
so they can see them too,
the ones who pay attention,
and they'll heed the warning
and learn you
and respect you
and know you
and never ruin you again

i'm gonna write em on the inside of your eyelids
in black permanent marker
so at the end
when the light finally shows for you,
before you let go,
you'll know it was all real.
you'll know it was all the truth.
and i was there always writing the words for you.

12:39am
august 3rd, 2007

lovers

2007-07-28T13:12:00.001-04:00

i don't think we'd be friends if we hadn't been lovers.

words=heart

2007-07-15T13:33:00.000-04:00

i'm aching to hold my words in my hands again.

</3

imitation

2007-07-13T00:35:00.001-04:00

sometimes i think i've forgotten how to communicate.
or maybe i've never learned how to really do it before.

this realization feels like remembering how
to breathe without thought after so many
scheduled
labored
breaths.

Inhale.
Exhale.

First 'hello'.. Inhale.
Letting go.. Exhale.

[and how do you know anything
when everything you know isn't real?]

You're the ink & the pen
we're the words.
i'm the indents on the next page
left from your impression of us..
a ghost of the story
[a ghost of a girl]
wanting to form, but without
the necessary utensils..
i am an imitation of myself.

a rose by any other name..

2007-06-18T20:45:00.000-04:00

she tells me i've changed
and that i'm this
and i'm that.

i argue and disagree now
and in future months,
i look back..

and all the things
i wasn't,
i am.

[written june 13, 2007]

[she holds me in her hands
even when she doesn't touch me..
she never touches me anymore.]

small doses

2007-06-11T17:04:00.001-04:00

i'm opening my eyes again for the first time in just over a year.. getting used to seeing the world outside of the one we had together..

relearning beauty and comfort and trying to grasp those last strands of ME in my fingertips before they're blown away with the wake of your passing through.

and you don't know that i'm starting to let go. and i have to say it aloud to myself before i can practice it.

but i have to do it for me. i have to be okay with me. i have to remember to still try to let the next one in and hope that i heal without creating scar tissue that holds this world out..

'..The food that I'm eating
Is suddenly tasteless
I know I'm alone now
I know what it tastes like
So break me to small parts
Let go in small doses
But spare some for spare parts
There might be some good ones..'

[regina spektor - 'ode to divorce']

a wrinkle in time

2007-06-02T00:58:00.001-04:00

i often think it's amazing what a photograph can hold for a person. how much you remember.

sitting on her stoop.. warm day.. double rainbow beaming and taking pictures of it.

sitting there with my phone on my skirt.. the wrinkles uneven and defined and being able to take that moment in the palm of my hand and hold it to be experienced any time i wanted to. this one little sliver in a whole lifetime and still i see and still i remember.

what do you remember when you lay your memories out on a computer screen?

regrets.

2007-06-01T00:09:00.000-04:00

i miss my job at the preschool.. yesterday, i had bryan stop by so i could say hi..

when i walked up, the first person to see me was shawn:
"EEwishaa! hi EEwisha!" trying to pronounce it so carefully in the wrong way..
Andraya looked at me like "i think i know her.. but i'm not sure if i do."
meg got her hair cut and it's so cute.
Haley and Kiera gave me high fives.. Alyssa said "Alisha.. i love you" like she always does.
Paige said "Where did you go?" i stumbled and thought and said "i have some things happening with my family.."

and now i'm thinking.. oh god. i didn't even get to say goodbye. i just disappeared on these kids. i never even told them i wasn't coming back.. i mean i'm sure someone else did.. but i just didn't come back one day..

the truth is some of them might forget about me and one day when their, like, 17 something will make them get that familiar feeling and they'll say "oh man.. i remember in preschool i had this teacher.. what was her name? oh man.. i can NOT think of it.. what was it?"

or maybe shawn will still come up to me and say "EEwisha!! EEwisha! i love you!"

in the beginning..

2007-05-30T22:16:00.000-04:00

so i figured that the people on my other blogs might be a) getting sick of sifting through my lame-o photo posts, b) sick of seeing pictures of my ex all the time, or c) maybe want to view all my pics in one place.

so i decided to start a photo blog after being inspired by mr. jcn's website [here]. it was nice to just see simple images posted a few times a week [so far is seems like almost once a day?] that weren't connected yet sometimes seem connected.

so. that's how i got here. i was going to do one on Opendiary, then i was thinking maybe livejournal.. but in the end i decided to test a new territory.. blogger.com

welcome to my little slice of the internet pie. and please realize i'm new to this format and not quite sure how i want to do this yet.. any ideas are graciously appreciated. :]

--alisha