July 22-28, 2002: Ephraim Ross and Mary McIntyre Brown

week of July 22-28, 2002



Ephraim Ross and Mary McIntyre Brown


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Ephraim Ross
eross@pomona.edu

Bio (auto)

E.L Ross has one year of study left at Pomona College, where he is presently doing research in child development for the summer and occasionally working at finding his poetic voice His immediate longings are to see his girlfriend who is interning in long distant Seattle, and to become a High School English teacher.

The following work is Copyright © 2002, and owned by Ephraim Ross and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.

autumnal sense

my sister comes in
brushing her teeth,
looks at me briefly
playing the guitar

‘ephraim,’ she says
‘dad is trying to sleep’
and shuts my door

i don’t have the heart
to tell her what he told me
that he loves falling asleep
to the gentle struggling
of my guitar.

geesefly

an ugly woman asks me
do i know the color of poetry?
my instinct is to leave
but i find myself, intrigued
in the asymmetry of her face,
the blotches on her cheeks,
the hint of scar tissue
tugging at her lower lip
the dark waiting of her eyes
and i wait with her
for one of us to transform

gardeners all

if grandmother were here
she would understand
it is not the old,
tired and withered
waiting past patience
for the unexpected visit
who are alone,
but the alone
who grow so quickly
old.

friends

walking along
i see her
she sees me
and we turn our heads
long enough
not to say hello

fallen, rainbow

Sometimes
I come back to here
the big parking lot
empty with strangers
wet, with lonely rain

by some accident
i almost step in it-
sudden color
beneath gray clouds,

god’s smiling
constrained
to a small stream,
oil on black asphalt
running towards the drain.


Mary McIntyre Brown
mary@pentacomproductions.com

Bio (auto)

I’ve been writing poetry for over 15 years I’ve had a few things published, and one poem, entitled “Special” is in the National Gallery for Women in the Arts in Washington, D.C in the “Book As Art” Permanent Collection, part of a collaboration entitled “Annie Mayhem PH=D “

I spent several years in the U.S Army as an intelligence analyst/reporter Then I became a civil rights activist I’ve written newspaper columns and feature articles
I spent a year working with flamenco guitarist, John Blackburn, arranging and adapting Lorca’s poetry to flamenco guitar While we were recording in Austin, I rented Andrei Tarkovsky’s ‘Mirror’ While watching it I was suddenly overwhelmed with the incredibly powerful feeling that I must study film So I recently moved to Los Angeles to do just that
I live with my son, Dominic, my chihuahua, Zeppo, and my husband, Perry, a protege of Stella Adler who recently retired from professional ballet as a dancer, though he still teaches and choreographs

The following work is Copyright © 2002, and owned by Mary McIntyre Brown and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.

Tuesday

Phones ringing all morning
nurses and therapist visit

they fit her for a new oxygen mask
they want her to wear it
when she sleeps

she doesn’t like that stuff in her face
doesn’t like the poking and pulling
testing useless muscles and patience

her right hand limp, swollen
her smallest finger inflamed
they try to stretch it out
she worries flesh will break open

her left hand not altogether gone
fingers slightly frozen in half clenches
she uses what still works

a couple fingers can place pills in her mouth
the neck she turns to look at me
the mouth can form words and still smiles

all day I observe this life
expecting, hoping for more

she naps after jello
I sit outside
and watch the spanish moss
suffocate the cyprus trees