Tag Archives: poetry

Stop it.


My brain is melting a little bit today — because today the book that I am a contributing writer for — A book that contains a poem, a poem of mine, a poem of mine that a legitimate editor at a legitimate press thought  was legitimately good enough to go into that book –  well now, that book  is now on pre-sale from effin’ Amazon.  I mean, I know, I could sell a gallon of milk  on Amazon — but oh em gee people, this is for real, and I can barely hold in my squeals of delight.

The book, The Good Mother Myth: Redefining Motherhood to Fit Reality, is a collection of essays put together by Avital Norman Nathman. Avi keeps her own blog at The Mamafesto, but also has a regular series, “The Femisphere,” for Ms. Magazine’s site, as well as a regular feminist parenting column, “Mommie Dearest,” for The Frisky. 

This collection of essays takes a realistic look at motherhood and provides a platform for real voices and raw stories, each adding to the narrative of motherhood we don’t tend to see in the headlines or on the news.

To say I am thrilled to be part of this collection is probably more than obvious to those of you who know me, my politics, and my academic background — But you should take a look at who I’m in the company of — and then I’ll let you know that besides thrilled – I’m pretty freakin’ humbled.  Psst – did you see how Christy Turlington, founder of Every Mother Counts (and ok, you know, a super model), is doing the forward – did I mention the part where I am squeeing like a little kid right now?

Oh and hey, if say your politics don’t align with amazon and its selling practices (I don’t judge y’all, I’m in so in bed with the amazon devil), you can actually pre-order the book from an independent book seller.  Yay indie book stores, you with your ambient music and nooks and corners –I love you too.

So – yeah, I’m going to be in a book, and it’s for pre-sale on amazon — and I would be pleased as punch if you picked up a copy. Now excuse me, while I flounce around the room in my pink tutu giving out little crazy shouts of joy. What? Not your image of a radical feminist – ahwell – it’s mine- radical, mama of two, sometimes poet, sparkly t-shirt wearing, public school teaching,  tutu having, twirly, humbled as hell, feminist.

I am sick and tired (excerpt)


. . . And I’m sick and tired of rumors.
You know what honey, you know nothing-
and your sad and lusterless life needs light-
so you think-
talking about my,
or someone else’s dark spots
will light you up,
But baby-
this little light of mine,
I’m going to let it shine,
let it shine,
let it shine,
let it shine.

Pearl Jam and Poetry Events in Haiku form-Because — Becuase I can


Yellow Ledbetter
Windows rolled down summer wind
drive through the sound waves.

Cohosting on stage
Killer open mic, followed
by Worcester Slam team.

Road trip over hills
GennaRose to feature, then I
will compete  in  the  slam 


Kickstarter Update- the part where I’m not too proud to beg.


It is summer vacation. Summer, beaches and camping and poetry.

Wait. What?

Well yah, this summer I’m devoting good chunks of the next several weeks to getting my chapbook done.  In anticipation of that I launched a Kickstater to help cover the printing costs. The coolest part of the whole thing… I got my tiny little project funded in under two weeks.

So now I’m calling it my chapbook pre-order project.  Will you, dear readers consider helping to grow my Kickstarter fund- help me clear the way of the fees and whatnot — perhaps enable me to have a fancy binding on my tiny little chapbook?  There are rewards left at every level

And if nothing else, stop by and check out the video – I mean – I actually get bleedped for my filthy mouth. It’s awesome.

Kick Start My Heart Here (sorry I managed to go two weeks without using that).

When everything is going just as it should –

 But Charlie, don’t forget what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he always wanted. 
 What happened? 
He lived happily ever after.
                                  – Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory

I had a hell of a teaching week last week.  Things were not going in my classroom how I wanted them.  Students were behaving outside of my classroom, and perhaps in it, in ways that disappointed me.  This coupled with the fact that we remain a district with an interim superintendent, a principal who leaves in two weeks, and no contract to speak of, well let’s just say there was some drinking done last weekend.

Also,  my students got the business from me a time or two in the last week.  At the end of one of my self-righteous lectures. . . A student raised her hand, politely, as she was sure I could still bite.
“Ms. B, have you ever thought of recording those rants, they sound a whole lot like poems”. Read the rest of this entry