I am teaching a poetry workshop right here in my home neighborhood, Jamaica Plain. We’ll be at the JP library for 6 Saturdays, from 2-3:30pm. The first class is on September 7, 2019! Continue reading “Free Workshop”
I can see forsythia bushes — bright yellow branches waving to me in the wind — and tulips and so many squirrels. They are trying to tell me that a real spring is imminent and sunshine will follow and oh they want me to mention…
My chapbook is here. You can (pre) order it through this link right now!
Isn’t the cover fantastic? Thanks so much to Liz Simmons, who generously provided me the use of her painting. When I first saw it on her Instagram, I knew instantly that I wanted it for my cover. I am inspired by the emotion and intuition in her art work. Her work reminds me of the foothills where some of my poems take place.
From the introduction by Rita Banerjee:
Reading Rebecca Connors’s Split Map feels like slipping into a Southern afternoon. In the space between roses, cut grass, and magnolia breath, this subtle and powerful collection of poems invites the reader into the restlessness of home, the slippage of time, and the memory of places and histories fractured and re-formed into something more surprisingly intimate and beautiful.
I am so excited for this release. This book is small and weird. It’s also mighty. It’s a mix of childhood and different cities and imagined spaces and love letters all in a tiny package. It’s my younger self and I want to be kind to her.
In which I can’t stop dreaming
I asked Patrick last night when I would stop dreaming of moving and packing. Maybe when we buy our first home? And he said, Most likely not. Which while disappointing, I realized was most likely the truth. My feelings of rootlessness and abandonment have nothing to do with where I am currently living. It’s a constant theme of my life: trying to make a presence for my body and for my beliefs.
It is fitting that my poems right now are about place and dreams and not leaving places when I was totally uncomfortable because I wanted to be nice. Continue reading “A burden of sleeplessness”
I hope that this August heat is finding you well. Patrick turned to me the other night when I was complaining about the heat and said, “You know, it’s only going to get hotter.” And it’s true. In that moment, I thought about our kids struggling to find water and felt so helpless.
Bullets in your soup, cracking teeth. Bullets littered
along interstates, swimming pools, shoulders.
It has been too long. I don’t know if it feels like that or not to you, but for me, there has been a little nag in the back of my head saying, write a letter, write a letter, write a letter.
Things are really dark now, as we knew they would be. And then they got darker. I am finding the light through family & friends, poetry and volunteering for good causes.
I have been trying to write this email for a long time. I’m usually not this stuck. I think it’s that I have so many different things to say. Some are deep/dark and others are happy and they don’t want to exist in the same email with each other.
So because it is National Poetry Month, I am going to talk poetry news.
So excited to have two poems in this issue of Tinderbox Poetry Journal. Split Map and George & Davis’ Coffee, Oxford, 1996 are poems about isolation in relationships and isolation in geography. There are so many stellar poets in this issue — I am so grateful to the editor Jenn Givhan for including me.
I am grateful to the editors of Ink & Nebula for publishing my poem, Fletching, in their inaugural issue.
They also made this stellar image to share on social.