It's here!!!

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

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?

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

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.]

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.

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

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.

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

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

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.