05/09/2008
on tiptoe, in the middle of traffic

smell your wild smell
I'm drunk
your head shrunk
to the size of this head
as it opens its pods
petals white
thick and sweet
I am a bee
want to take your scent
with me
stand on tiptoe
middle of traffic, alone
your hair like the peach-
fuzzed pods
opening leave-heads
opening to the beauty
of that spring
we found out
on tiptoe
in the middle of traffic
someone planted you
I knew you would visit
way out here
where I find my ground
in new waters
way out here
on tiptoe
in the middle of traffic
the corner
where someone planted you
before I knew
you'd be gone
text & image (c) 2008 patti sinclair
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05/06/2008
launch details

r e d n e t t l e p r e s s
Presents our Inaugural Spring Harvest...
An outstanding crop of poets will display their wares:
Jenna Butler, Jeff Carpenter, Michael Gravel, Layne L’Heureux, rob mclennan & Trisia Eddy, Julie Robinson, Patti Sinclair
Bring your Shillings for the books! Bring your Farthings for the bar!
Readings, Refreshments, and Revelry will be provided...
RED NETTLE PRESS
THURSDAY
MAY 29, 2008 THE ARTERY DOORS 7:00 PM
READINGS 7:30 PM
9535
JASPER AVE
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red nettle press spring launch
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red nettle press spring harvest launch
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04/30/2008
Paul Lonely
Most poetry, since the turn of the 20th century, has been written under the mantra “Art for Art’s sake.” Although commendable, this mind-set has lead the world of poetry and art to a stagnant, and now unremarkable, pool of irony.
I offer a response in the form of a letter.
Dear postmodern and contemporary artists of the world:
To cut to the chase: You’re trying too hard.
Most of you seem to be dead set on becoming the next “mad genius.”
And it’s obvious.
And it’s tiring.
And, quite frankly, it’s now cliché.
When art becomes enamored with itself, it can become a form of masturbation.
And, at this point and time, most art and poetry accepted by the establishment is just playing with itself.
After nearly fifty years of little more than a series of tired translations, it’s high time for a group of integral artists to transcend and include the trendiness of self-deconstruction and call for (dare I say demand) the necessities of a global transformation.
May I be so bold as to offer a couple new mantras for the 21st century?
Here’s the first: Art for Spirit’s Sake.
for the Paul Lonely's Full Article see:
http://www.realitysandwich.com/kosmic_karma_integral_poet
used with permission
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04/28/2008
in and out
in and out
carries you like a feather
to the place
of no mind
in and out
ushers you to the space
between
the breaths
still point
in and out
guides you into
the pause
invites you to leap
through the veil
to land
on sacred & gritty path
coaxes you to travel
across the rainbow
bridge
drums you down
to Earth’s fire
in and out
down to the landscapes
you drink
with your heart
images releasing you
like the dawn’s first ray
animals protecting you
teachers with wings
smoke
lifting you
to your knowing
your delivery
in and out
in and out
in and out
she breathing
you
together
in and out
text & image (c) 2008
by patti sinclair
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birth, rising from the sea
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04/23/2008
wet stream

above
I see me, in blue and silver
pulled, by an algae-colored
noodle, in his wake
of large yellow fins
I trail behind
water warm
dunk my eyes, salted,
come up for air
he is there
shiny
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04/19/2008
T. S. Eliot
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04/16/2008
the last poem

tentacles of the last poem
reach far into the night,
words like loose bones
scale the eyelids
eyes pulled, propped,
suctioned
question their height
if the shoe fits
worthiness
if this last poem,
is the last poem
(c) 2008 patti sinclair
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to the place offered, a clearing
will you come alive, forest
will you come alive after so much death?
create beauty here
build an altar
plant some flowers
clear the floor
breeze fresh enough,
just warm enough. just
in time
before wind hits bone
will the buds come out?
will the remains
of this small wood, sheltered
enough for snow at your feet
help to relocate it?
red-headed woodpecker
hammers
your task
at the edge of this forest,
will you go in
allow yourself,
clear a hole in death, curl up?
come out the other side?
will the tree fall?
hear it?
(c) patti sinclair 2008
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