Tuesday, March 17, 2015

approaching the equinox

1. Talking about erasure w/ Gillian Devereux The Women in Visual Poetry: the Bechdel Test
Curated by Jessica Smith> with Michelle Detorie, Gillian Devereux, Kathy Ernst, K. Lorraine Graham and Sheila Murphy & an afterword by Maureen Thorson

 2. “The Meat World,” “Solstice,” and “Blink Witch” + “Other” (chapter from Sin in Wilderness) + vintage video

 3. Reading at What's New in Poetry @ Real Pants

 4. After-Cake



Saturday, January 10, 2015

Thursday, December 04, 2014

Fall Things

1. audio from my reading at Indian Springs School. I was very inspired by my visit to ISS, and was especially heartened to encounter the vibrant and engaged curriculum developed by poets Jessica Smith and Douglas Ray. Also, Heidi Lynn Staples is awesome. So fun to read with her. Audio of her reading is here.

2. My poem "Pine Needles" is day two at the Delirious Hem Advent calendar.

3. Janice Lee included After-Cave in her list of "Best Books of 2014" at The Volta.

4. Speaking of Janice, I am now the poetry editor at the super-rad Entropy.

5. I did this interview over at Rob's blog.

6. I'll be joining CJ Martin, Julia Drescher, and Kurt Newman for a panel on "Paranoid Histories" at the Bay Area Public School on Saturday, January 10th.

7. I was "featured" at the TX State English department alumni page.

8. The entire first chapter of The Sin in Wilderness is included in the October 2014 issue of MiPOesias (edited by Emma Trelles).

9. I read at the Mission Poetry series in Santa Barbara, the Rhapsodomancy reading series in LA, and participated with Michalle Gould in one of the excellent #90for90 events hosted by DTLAB.

10. More readings TBA!

11. Copies of After-Cave may be purchased online at the Ahsahta Press website, Small Press Distribution, Powell's, & Amazon. If you are in Santa Barbara, you can purchase a copy at Chaucer's, Granada, or DNA design and art. If you are in Los Angeles, you may get one at Skylight Books. If you are in Brooklyn, you may get one at Berl's Brooklyn Poetry Shop.

12. I also have a website now.

Sunday, November 02, 2014

After-Cave at SPD


After-Cave germinates in a space that is desolate and dangerous. It invites the reader to nestle in the narrator’s skin as a movement towards livability is recorded. The words collect on the speaker’s dermis, galvanically; groggily we awake in the eyes of a girl, fifteen, perhaps animal and perhaps human, maybe alive and possibly dead. A hybrid text, After-Cave contains poems and fragments, sentences and paragraphs, experiments in sound and syntax, as well as visual poetry and cartographies. Language moves over the speaker like weather systems and migratory birds, troubling notions of linear time and traversing the spaces of human-made and "natural" disaster. More pressing than hunger is the need to know what “cruelty” means and how one might live in its absence, a series of torsions that displace us from a surface and convey us to its underside, which is to say that After-Cave is a book about the impossible.  How to make the impossible hospitable, and thereby, in one’s way, to prepare oneself to meet one’s friends: human, animal, the always alive and the already-dead. A feminist, feral-poetic odyssey, purring and covered in mud. The words pace themselves on cave time. The better to welcome an encounter that changes us as we wish to be changed.

Thursday, October 02, 2014

I got reviewed!!!

http://www.publishersweekly.com/978-1-934103-54-8

Detorie extracts a poetics "against dying" out of a landscape of ruin and wilderness in this spirited full-length debut. The book comprises three long sequences concerning questions of shelter, destruction, and agency, which, though formally mercurial, remain linked through a single speaker who describes herself as "15. Female. Human (I think)." Materiality becomes a place of confluence for the bodily and the external universe, the man-made and the feral: "we are skin, snow, unpacked/ boxes opened like petals, skin// ... I held a line, a pail, my pockets/ becoming full, the moon/ blood red and lined with fur." The poems remain grounded in the subjective "I" but resist a linear sense of time, leading instead by sensation and image, and sometimes using formatting and typography to invite the reader into an unconventional experience of text, page, and physical book. This sense of play is punctuated by moments of direct assertion. "To insist that something—someone or some being—cannot be imagined is, in fact, its own form of oppression," Detorie writes. Indeed, her poetics struggles against such insistence in service of possibility. Where "The failure to occupy/ breaks apart like soap/ sand salt all/ the things we need/ to name," Detorie wrests a vocabulary of compassion. (Sept.)

After-Cave!!!!!

https://ahsahtapress.org/product/after-cave/ After-Cave
 Michelle Detorie

 After-Cave is the narration of “an adolescent female who may or may not be human,” an odyssey feral, feminist, and ecopoetical. More pressing than hunger for this speaker is the need to know what “cruelty” means and how one might live in its absence. In this way,After-Cave is a book about the impossible and how to make it hospitable, and thereby prepare oneself to meet one’s friends: human, animal, the always alive and the already dead. Using language that moves over the speaker like weather systems and migratory birds, troubling notions of linear time and traversing the spaces of human-made and “natural” disaster, Detorie in this first book introduces us to the distinction between a state of being and an act of being.

“Michelle Detorie betrays the false presumptions of our times to vivify and reinhabit the very spaces they have denied and marred. However ‘marred’ is language already discarded here. Without old-fashioned judgment, she sets us inside her testimony, which is a scored preamble, an alchemical cartography, girl-spirited and dense with data, all-atune. The book’s dystopian ferocity and knowledge make its bearings even as it trembles with a deep and feral hope. Hers is the tenderest, the most specific report.” —Elizabeth Treadwell .

“Like Helen Adam before her, Detorie sings this afterlife-life, often via attention to noise, meaning that ‘voice’ here picks up some unnatural instruments: ‘Tumbleweeds or / teeth? [ . . . ] Fur / for a mouth.’ I make my way through After-Cave as I’d enter a woods where ‘the trees have decided to grow underground’—certain that finding my feet will involve a death to one nature or another. In this kind of apocalypse, it’s the ideology of ‘the natural’ that’s haunting the house—not any actual fact of organisms. Or (if you like ghosts) maybe it’s the natural’s propensity for systematic violence that leaves us with such fiery spectral lives.” —C.J. Martin .

“Michelle Detorie writes through the animal to reach another place; there, we encounter ‘reluctance,’ ‘kindness,’ trailing ‘ribbons.’ I was very moved by the link Detorie makes between feral life and the ecology of shelter. As she writes: ‘Digging underground, I disrupted homes that did not belong to me but wound deep and tethered together.’ How this profound non-belonging is in relation, always, to the sensation of touch when it comes; touch that in After-Cave precipitates encounter, like the stages of soft palate growth and experiment that precede language: ‘Your hand like a little lock reached through—.’ What a tender and complicated book for someone to write. A book that is ‘silky, frayed, gleaming: a continuance.’ A book that hurts a little bit to read. A book saturated in the kind of longing a girl might typically not admit; a desire, in other words, that starts to change the outline of the body: ‘my glass jaw bobbing.’ The intensity also lies in the way Detorie takes us close to what is not us and what will change us to be with in another way, across the species frame: ‘I thought of taking off my clothes and sleeping with the wolf.’ Communal, imaginal, soft—the book goes on and takes us further in, until we reach the ‘meadows still blue with the asphalt glitter that rained down.’ And get to go. And get to lie down.”
—Bhanu Kapil








Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Last day of April

video
This morning I encountered a creature digging a heart-shaped hole.

A poem from The Sin in Wilderness is up at Newport Life Magazine.
is this real?