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		<title>The Pew Center for Arts &amp; Heritage : Blog</title>
		<link>http://www.pcah.us/blog/</link>
		<dc:language>en</dc:language>
		<dc:date>2014-01-17T17:30:06+00:00</dc:date>
		
		
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			<title>National Poetry Month: Day 30: Sonia Sanchez</title>
			<link>http://www.pcah.us/blog/entry/national-poetry-month-day-30-sonia-sanchez/</link>
			<description><![CDATA[National Poetry Month comes to an end! We hope you&#39;ve enjoyed our month-long feature on Pew Fellows and their poetry. The final poet is Sonia Sanchez (1993). Sequences 1. today I am tired of sabbaths. I seek a river of sticks scratching the spine. O I have laughed the clown&#39;s air now my breath dries in paint. 2.&nbsp; what is this profusion? the sun does not burn a cure, but hoards while I stretch upward. I hear, turning&nbsp; in my shrug a blaze of horns. O I had forgotten parades belabored with dreams. 3. in my father&#39;s time I fished in ponds without fishes. arching my throat, I gargled amid nerves and sang of redeemers. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;(o where have you been sweet &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;redeemer, sharp redeemer,...]]></description>
			<dc:date>2013-04-30T18:16:10+00:00</dc:date>
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			<title>National Poetry Month, Day 29: CAConrad</title>
			<link>http://www.pcah.us/blog/entry/national-poetry-month-day-29-caconrad/</link>
			<description><![CDATA[April is National Poetry Month, so what better time to celebrate the work of our Pew Fellows in poetry? Today&rsquo;s poet is CAConrad (2011). Express an Interest in Listening or Flowers Won&#39;t Bother &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; greed it &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; seems &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; has no &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; memory &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; the little &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;...]]></description>
			<dc:date>2013-04-29T18:28:24+00:00</dc:date>
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			<title>National Poetry Month, Day 28: Molly Russakoff</title>
			<link>http://www.pcah.us/blog/entry/national-poetry-month-day-28-molly-russakoff/</link>
			<description><![CDATA[April is National Poetry Month, so what better time to celebrate the work of our Pew Fellows in poetry? Today&rsquo;s poet is Molly Russakoff (1995). Harry The incandescence of the bare bulb that hangs in the universe of my swing is like a squalid sun When I stare at it long and with down-reaching intention, the element dances like a little flame: graceful, eternal, a tiny stirring in the core of my heart. Otherwise, it is single the indiscriminate yellowing that spreads from corner to corner to corner. The brown bureau and plaid papered walls, the other door open onto a wedge of darkness illuminated. There are sum of two units worlds two concentric worlds, and I am at the center of each of them. Leaning upon the painted sill I watch the girls from the Catholic school&mdash; the angels dispersing, delicate and fawnish. As I focus upon a given...]]></description>
			<dc:date>2013-04-28T17:04:12+00:00</dc:date>
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			<title>National Poetry Month, Day 27: Linh Dinh</title>
			<link>http://www.pcah.us/blog/entry/national-poetry-month-day-27-linh-dinh/</link>
			<description><![CDATA[April is National Poetry Month, so what better time to celebrate the work of our Pew Fellows in poetry? Today&rsquo;s poet is Linh Dinh (1993). The Dead The nine-year-old hockey puck Bounced from the fender of an olive truck Now bounces a leather ball on his forehead. The old lady who scrounged potted meat From foreign men lying in a mortar pit Now sells gold jewelry in Santa Barbara. The dead are not dead but wave at pretty strangers From their pick-up trucks on Bolsa Avenue. They sit at formica tables smoking discount cigarettes. Some have dyed their hair, changed their name to Bill. But the living, some of them, like to dig up the dead, Dress them in native costumes, shoot them again, Watch their bodies rise in slow motion. &nbsp; from Drunkard Boxing, Singing Horse Press (1996) &nbsp; Linh Dinh was born in Vietnam in 1963, came to...]]></description>
			<dc:date>2013-04-27T17:56:56+00:00</dc:date>
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			<title>National Poetry Month, Day 26: Nathalie Anderson</title>
			<link>http://www.pcah.us/blog/entry/national-poetry-month-day-26-nathalie-anderson/</link>
			<description><![CDATA[April is National Poetry Month, so what better time to celebrate the work of our Pew Fellows in poetry? Today&rsquo;s poet is Nathalie Anderson (1993). The Miser First night together, and he said "Don&#39;t&mdash; don&#39;t ever, don&#39;t you ever write about me." First thing from his mouth, and it took her breath: he saw how she was capable, saw what words&mdash;her words&mdash;might do. Scraped his nails down the pale silk skin of her fore-arm. "Don&#39;t write about this," he said and bent her little finger back. She felt like she&#39;d swallowed gold: all that sick wealth inside her that she&#39;d never get to spend. &nbsp; from Crawlers, Ashland Poetry Press (2006) &nbsp; Nathalie Anderson is an award-winning poet and accomplished librettist. Her first book Following Fred Astaire, won the 1998 Washington Prize from The Word Works, and her second, Crawlers, received the 2005 McGovern Prize from Ashland Poetry Press; her...]]></description>
			<dc:date>2013-04-26T19:31:53+00:00</dc:date>
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			<title>National Poetry Month, Day 25: Afaa Michael Weaver</title>
			<link>http://www.pcah.us/blog/entry/national-poetry-month-day-25-afaa-michael-weaver/</link>
			<description><![CDATA[April is National Poetry Month, so what better time to celebrate the work of our Pew Fellows in poetry? Today&rsquo;s poet is Afaa Michael Weaver (1998). Walnut Cinema for Roger Allen Jones This movie is about things we know, about apartments with books and beer. On the bus, I am amazed to see another poet of Philadelphia. I am a foreigner in the Quaker heart. You sit in mischief like a bandit in a British forest, your face its own disguise. Sometimes I want to rattle your wisdom, but I study the facades of the Main Line. Life gave so much of itself to you that you must take Russian vodka on a regular basis to keep from laughing in your waking dreams. In the sound of paper under your foot, in the rain and gray failure of light, in welfare queens&#39; lobster-dinner pleas, in the spaces between Frank Sinatra&#39;s...]]></description>
			<dc:date>2013-04-25T19:33:39+00:00</dc:date>
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			<title>National Poetry Month, Day 24: Catie Rosemurgy</title>
			<link>http://www.pcah.us/blog/entry/national-poetry-month-day-24-catie-rosemurgy/</link>
			<description><![CDATA[April is National Poetry Month, so what better time to celebrate the work of our Pew Fellows in poetry? Today&rsquo;s poet is Catie Rosemurgy (2012). Peach The head, the mouth, the fruit, the eating. The pit, the teeth, the branch, the falling. The wet, the swollen, the light, the seeing. The picking, the washing, the cutting, the quartering. The sweet, the having. The holding of it in your hands, beautiful and then ruined. The forms of devouring. The remaining empty. What&#39;s inside. The excitement of the definite article. What&#39;s inside one thing is analogous to what&#39;s inside another. The ceremonial names of what is done to them. What is unknown requires a new way of cutting. What we&#39;re left with. How we make an object ours, make it disappear. How we become the object and are food. How we are delicious and dead at the center in so many ways....]]></description>
			<dc:date>2013-04-24T19:39:21+00:00</dc:date>
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			<title>National Poetry Month, Day 23: Ron Silliman</title>
			<link>http://www.pcah.us/blog/entry/national-poetry-month-day-23-ron-silliman/</link>
			<description><![CDATA[April is National Poetry Month, so what better time to celebrate the work of our Pew Fellows in poetry? Today&rsquo;s poet is Ron Silliman (1998). from The Chinese Notebook 1. Wayward, we weigh words. Nouns reward objects for meaning. The chair&nbsp;in the air is covered with hair. No part is in touch with the planet. 2. Each time I pass the garage of a certain yellow house, I am greeted with&nbsp;barking. The first time this occurred, an instinctive fear seemed to run through&nbsp;me. I have never been attacked. Yet I firmly believe that if I opened the door to the&nbsp;garage I should confront a dog. 3. Chesterfield, sofa, divan, couch&mdash;might these items refer to the same&nbsp;object? If so, are they separate conditions of a single word? 4. My mother as a child would call a potholder a &ldquo;boppo,&rdquo; the term becoming appropriated by the whole family, handed down now by...]]></description>
			<dc:date>2013-04-23T17:49:14+00:00</dc:date>
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			<title>National Poetry Month, Day 22: Becky Birtha</title>
			<link>http://www.pcah.us/blog/entry/national-poetry-month-day-22-becky-birtha/</link>
			<description><![CDATA[April is National Poetry Month, so what better time to celebrate the work of our Pew Fellows in poetry? Today&rsquo;s poet is Becky Birtha (1993). Black Women Writers&#39; Conference Women have come from Nigeria Ghana, Senegal Americas and islands, all these women are authors poets, scholars. Downstairs in the hall their bright books fill everyone&#39;s hands spill across display tables throughout the day voices rising articulate and strong. They have read each other&#39;s work can translate one another&#39;s impassioned speeches on the spot cite references and reviews. . . Nevertheless in the dormitory after-hours in the bathroom side by side at the mirrors over the sink the first friendly question is always the same: How many children do you have back home? &nbsp; from The Forbidden Poems, Seal Press (1991) &nbsp; Becky Birtha is the author of two collections of short stories&mdash;Lovers&#39; Choice&nbsp;(The Women&#39;s Press, 1988) and For Nights Like...]]></description>
			<dc:date>2013-04-22T18:32:13+00:00</dc:date>
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			<title>National Poetry Month, Day 21: Bob Perelman</title>
			<link>http://www.pcah.us/blog/entry/national-poetry-month-day-21-bob-perelman/</link>
			<description><![CDATA[April is National Poetry Month, so what better time to celebrate the work of our Pew Fellows in poetry? Today&rsquo;s poet is Bob Perelman (2006). Musik after Rilke What are you saying, Bob? Thoroughly Urban greenery, wired, giving Reliable directions? Where? Your head Is tangled in her dispersing cloud body. To her, speech is a penal system. She&#39;ll turn blue and vanish rather than Keep listening. You&#39;re strong, talk a lot, But it will be raining any minute. Maybe just sit on a green bench And watch clouds pass in and out Of shapes you can see. She Likes not being recognized. That wing is now a grey square. The wind cuts a new picture in half. She&#39;s in tatters up there And you&#39;re reading words on walls. Shouts mimic the shreds of light. &nbsp; from Primer, This Press (1981) &nbsp; Bob Perelman is the author of more than a...]]></description>
			<dc:date>2013-04-21T14:04:14+00:00</dc:date>
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