June 9-15, 2003: Donna Kuhn and Leili Besharat

week of June 9-15, 2003

Donna Kuhn and Leili Besharat

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Donna Kuhn

Bio (auto)

Donna Kuhn has published her poems in over 100 print and online journals and anthologies including Santa Clara Review, Poetry New York, Red Dirt, fuel,  Poesy, Naked Poetry, Unlikely Stories, Spadra, Juxta, Onyx, Moria, Alchemix, Sendecki, Mesechabe, Churn, 5-trope, Lost and Found Times, Wired Hearts, Big Bridge, Red Coral Grotto, Pig Iron Malt, Ten Thousand Monkeys, Moondance, asspants, The Tomcat, Porter Gulch Review, poetry motel, Sonoma Mandala, The Dickens, Tunnel Road Anthology and her chapbook, no bird on yr arm, has been published by Tamaphyr Mountain Press
Her poetry has been choreographed by Natica Angillys’ Poetic Dance Theater and is also incorporated into her own visual art and multimedia poetry/dance videos She has read and performed her poetry in venues in The Bay Area, Colorado and Maryland, often with musical accompaniment Her teaching experience includes teaching poetry in public schools, at the college level, at mental health clinics, and at nursing homes and retirement centers through adult education in which she holds two teaching credentials Her B.A is in Alternative/Creative Writing from Sonoma State University and she has done graduate work in creative writing at Colorado State University She lives in Aptos, California
Visit Donna on the web here: www.onlinewebart.com

The following work is Copyright © 2003, and owned by Donna Kuhn and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author

he only draws

i ate fish and all the funeral shoes shut up
u dream in the room like its all smoky horses
the scheme u dream in and im walking away
yr eyes, thighs, bees, 6 beers
yr eyes are full of stuff
like a skeleton without a thrift store
i dream in the room u cant swallow yr eyes
i ate fish and someone has big r.v ‘s
i’m in the sand limping over a blue moon
ya ya in michigan; seahorses came
in handmade alligators
yr eyes, 5 funeral shoes
seahorse guns stayed away
i am walking in the scheme u dreamed in


two women have silverware
i got pepper, who cares

cellphone of birds so hollow
the winters over and love

is in my flat aluminium
baby skull mountains

the resolutions step back
pepsodent baby skin

wont flower i say now dragon
pull my macaroni buddha

fingers like teaspoons of eyes
kmart ate the traffics

laundromat heart, she says
everyone, now dragon

this dragon, all her romaine
cant learn her, cant learn her

i am the thing

get yrself dark urban pterodactyls, girl
so i say so i say, u say san diego moon
without eyes, u say horses arent the moon
so here are mermaids
girl of gray too beautiful, falling apart
small birds downhill in boulder
nebraska jumps on the bed with a skeleton
green sponge is burning in yr head
if i could lead my red war
life burned the moon and life burned
the girl of grey, blue trees down, hoot crap
palestinian moon carries yr blue
so happy, i am the thing

Leili Besharat

Bio (auto)

Leili Florence Besharat was born in Tehran, Iran in 1970 and grew up in Connecticut, Italy and Georgia. After graduating from the writing program at Goddard College, she began teaching and travel writing She is a recipient of a Macdowell Colony Fellowship, as well as a Fulbright Teacher’s Fund Fellowship to Japan for her work in teaching Japanese She lives in Chiang Mai, Thailand and will be moving to Kathmandu to work in an orphanage come summer.

The following work is Copyright © 2003, and owned by Leili Besharat and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author

The Sensual Details Surrounding The Anecdotes

It was his country because
he liked its women
and because he whispered in my ear
words he barely understood
But we were ghosts
speaking dead languages
Then pinholes of light
began safing me
Drink, drink, they would melt into my ear
Formulate a liquid answer
to a lie and stick to it
Fib your way into that feather bed
and sleep like a voluptuary
Deny them
nothing you would deny yourself
Feel that double negative inside
then rush it
Sacrum bent like a dog about to be blindsided
by its own heat
by a rush of fists and wheels
Then grind the brakes and force
the stick into that velocity which
coins men
Makes them patter and junk
their former lives
for something so close
to faith that we can taste
the salt lick smothering the engine
Dissembling form
Raking formlessness and
Scripturing violence
into the grooves of his body
.for historical accuracy’s sake
.as a memory exercise
Making ripe things rank by
pressing thumbs
very tightly into either side
until they meet in the middle
Flesh of the fruit extinguished 
Spilling sugar left and right
Radiating into every perimeter imaginable
how do you take to water?
Equador holds out for us
palms tightly pressed against the glass
Cracks open a fig and mouths
‘see what we mean
when we say orchid this,
finch that’

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