Happy news to share! My poem, “Truth Be Told, It’s Inevitable” was accepted for publication and can be found online at One Sentence Poems.
Check it out here: “Truth Be Told, It’s Inevitable”
Lucky to have stumbled across this journal and that they took a chance on me to give this work a home.
Remember that time I joined the Madwomen in the Attic workshops at Carlow University? If you don’t, I wrote all about how excited (and nervous) I was, and about the class here.
Time does fly when you’re having fun. I have been a Madwoman for over a year now, and it’s one of the greatest chances I’ve taken on myself.
I’m thrilled to announce that on Friday, December 2nd, I will be reading at the Madwomen Book Party from the anthology Voices from the Attic Volume XXII, where I have two poems published.
Here are the details:
Madwomen Book Party, Reading & Fundraiser
Voices from the Attic, Volume XXII
Friday, December 2nd, 2016
7:30 p.m.
Community Broadcast Center
90.5 WESA Studios
67 Bedford Square, South Side
Hope to see you there!
Yesterday, November 6th, I brought my racing career (click here for details) full circle yet again with the Pittsburgh EQT 10 miler.
It was a gorgeous fall day for a run- a little chilly in the morning, but once my feet hit the pavement and the sun burst through the gray of morning, it was the perfect temperature. I ran for seven miles with a friend and truly understood how running with someone can be such a great therapy question. We talked about running and relationships, and before I knew it, the miles and number of bridges we’d run on had flown by!
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I had spent this past week submitting my work out to numerous publications, and began tracking my progress. The one certainty you can expect as a writer is rejection, and I was beginning to know it all too well.
You can imagine my surprise when I got an e-mail later in the afternoon stating that a literary magazine wanted ALL FIVE of the five poems I had sent to them. I was ecstatic that these poems finally got accepted, and it was a wonderful break to receive!
So with that, I leave you with this image, and a reminder that “Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.” I knew there was a reason it was my favorite.
Until next time,
Great news! My poems “Formula” and “Saved” will appear in the anthology Voices from the Attic Volume XXII, which will be published Fall 2016.
I was drawn to writing ever since I could remember. I fell in love with words, with stories inside books, with the way the pen meets the paper. And then, for five years, I lost that. I stopped creating art. I stopped listening to my voice. I didn’t even recognize it. I am so glad that I found my way back.
To celebrate today, here’s a look at the first poem I ever got published:
DISTORTION
Windowed your split view,
Like the exterior of my conversation with vodka-
My words, tumbling from strawberry chapstick lips
“I wouldn’t lie to you, I swear.”
You search through limbed teeth just in case,
Not believing reassurance I found in the shot glass.
Then, rake up my tongue because it’s keeping hidden truth.
My tonsils become the rough bark of our argument-and there!
Hit realization, by eventually looking out from inside your living room:
I bear no fruit; aging and losing branches.
Stepping outside like I always knew you would,
disgust feeding that chainsaw hypocrisy,
You cut down the divided tree of my naïve mouth.
White lies don’t shed to be forgiven.
This poem was published in Issue 2 of The Blue Route when I was a freshman in college, circa 2009. (WOW!) See it in print here.
And P.S. It is funny how life gets distorted, isn’t it? Our paths twist, people in our lives mislead us. The view we had can end up being so inaccurate from where we currently stand. Learn to morph, rise after buckling at the knees, speak through the garbled noise. Remember that pivots are necessary. Remember to stay true.
Calling yinz near and far, check out Pittsburgh Poetry Review!
My poem “Tuesdays at Baum Grove” was published in Issue Two, and I read at the Pittsburgh Poetry Review Roadshow last night (Thursday, May 19th) at Té Café in Squirrel Hill with Jen Ashburn.
(Note: Seeing your name on a poster for the first time as a featured reader is pretty cool.)
Some photos from the evening.
I read a total of ten poems, one of which I had literally thrown together that same afternoon. Some I had written in my Madwomen workshops, some came from my experiences in Spain, and others uncovered the emotions behind getting my pacemaker.
Jen Ashburn, who lived in Japan for four years, graced us with her incredible poems, as did Jason Irwin and Jill Khoury for the Open Mic session.
Although I didn’t try any tea, Té Café had some really good coffee in cups the size of giant soup bowls. Definitely will be coming back for the poetry and the caffeine 🙂
Check out next week’s readers Edward Murray, Jamilla Rice, and Janeen Rastall. Same place, same time!
Pittsburgh Poetry Review currently publishes 3 issues a year, March, July, and November. You can find more information on their website or on their Facebook page.
Special thanks again to those that made this possible: Michael Albright, Jennifer Jackson Berry, and Daniel Shapiro for seeing something in my work and taking a chance on me.
Thanks so much to everyone that came out! Hope you enjoyed my words as much as I loved reading them.
Great news! My poem “All Safeties Off” was published in Pittsburgh City Paper.
Check it out here.
All Safeties Off
It was Christmas Day in our backyard
when I first shot my dad’s hunting rifle —
felt it kick back into my shoulder as he looked on,
keeping distance
as shells went flying.
I fingered the trigger,
breathed the weight of it all
burning hot metal
swallowing painted targets
my shaky hands steadying & aiming —
all safeties off.
And I thought, here I am
deep in December — sweating
because
there was something
within the chamber
I couldn’t point to
barreling through me just the same
& the weapon clicks
white knuckle grip
I need to reload, but what’s the point
if all my ghosts wear bulletproof vests
& don’t understand the word no
or stop
& my dad yells, Bull’s eye!
& I drop
the gun.
My poem “Salt” was picked up by Construction magazine & published in their 2016 Winter Issue, which was released today.
You can check it out here and read below:
Salt
I will eat paella and pan con tomate until I die, if you want me to,
salt clawing and clutching corners of my mouth
like your newborn child’s tiny hands around her mother’s finger.
But we don’t speak about it in the kitchen. We let infidelity churn
in wedding pots and knead curved skin like bread dough.
We savor a kiss. You feed it to me in spoonfuls, in haste
and wipe the edges neatly with your napkin before you go.
Your apron is burned in the morning. I do not ask why.
Yes, I said it.
I thought I was in love when I kissed my first crush, Seth, on the cheek when I was seven. We were behind a tree during a family camping retreat for the Boy Scouts, which both he and my brother were part of. (Smart girl-learning to break hearts at a young age.)
…But it wasn’t exactly a fairy tale ending. He immediately straightened his glasses, gave me a weird look, and ran away. We didn’t speak after that. But that’s okay, because I learned a different love- escaping with a book instead of chasing boys.
Since then, writers from Sylvia Plath to J.K. Rowling paved the way for my love of literature. Teachers from elementary school to college classes taught me to create my own by nurturing and guiding my craft. I couldn’t ever explain it, but words empowered me. I mean, who needs a man when you’ve got countless characters to fall in love with? There was nothing quite like losing myself entirely in a story, or better yet, discovering myself between its pages in the process. And when I wrote? Indescribable. It was like I held the power. Let’s get real here- The last lines of Sylvia Plath’s Lady Lazarus are a perfect example.
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.”
Which brings me to the here and now. I created this blog to keep writing, and as a place to bring my stories of travel. I joined a writing class. I’ve been submitting my work.
I delayed posting until this week because I was waiting to hear whether or not I got accepted to the 2016 Sigma Tau Delta’s International Convention, and I am THRILLED to announce that I received the e-mail last night.
So hold on. What exactly is Sigma Tau Delta, you may ask? First off, it is not a sorority. It also isn’t a sexually transmitted disease. Although that is, in fact, what the acronym implies. Ha. STD is an International English Honor Society. (And yes, believe me, we tried to get “Prose Before Bros” or “STD: Gotta read ’em all!” as our T-shirt sayings, but it didn’t stand a chance against administration.)
I joined Sigma Tau Delta in 2010, and, in my junior year of college, presented at the 2011 Convention March 23-26th in Pittsburgh, PA (shown below). The convention theme was “Beyond Words.”
With friends Samantha and Laura, exploring the ‘burgh and attending presentations (below).
Practice makes perfect!
I presented an original poem, “Discoloration” which I wrote about my father.
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A year later in 2012, I had the time of my life at the convention, which was held in New Orleans, LA from February 29-March 3. The convention theme that year was “Reawaken.” New Orleans was a beautiful city, and I heard such beautiful writing in the sessions I attended. I was a senior in college then, and even now I am amazed by the memories I made there, from Bourbon Street to friendships I stumbled into. I hope to go back someday. I’m still craving beignets from Café du Monde…
Some classmates/fellow STD members with our professor, Dr. Andrew Ade (above) and below at the Red & Black Gala Dinner and Convention Awards.
I told you I take eating seriously.
Presenting poetry from my collection “The Art of Baptizing.”
Now, it has been over three years since I graduated college. I rediscovered Sigma Tau Delta recently and joined the Alumni Epsilon Chapter. Shortly thereafter, I realized I could still submit, and if accepted, present at the convention. Naturally, I was stoked and submitted as soon as I could pull something together. I have been racking my brain waiting these past couple months to see whether or not I would be accepted. Seriously. Not knowing was brutal, and so was trying to prepare myself for rejection.
But, this has a fairy tale ending after all. I am so happy to announce that this year, I am one of 24 Sigma Tau Delta alumni that will present at the convention in Minneapolis, MN from March 2-5, 2016. The convention theme is “Finding Home.” I will be reading ten poems from my collection “From This Side of the Sun.”
Are there any other Sigma Tau Delta members out there? Would love to connect with you!
Stay classy readers,
P.S. I went to Minnesota when I was younger and all I remember is the Mall of America. What is at the top of your list for things to see & do in the City of Lakes?
I make my home for the next eight hours in seat 22C, separated by an aisle from two French girls with honey woven hair, their words bubbling over the soft cries of a child behind me.
To my right- a blonde, straight-faced younger man. He copies my dinner order on our overnight flight, and I exchange names for time to kill.
Ryan from Indiana, graduate from Nashville, selling engineering equipment on a business trip.
I tell him I am Kara, almost 23, a bird fleeing from the suffocating nest of corporate worlds
And how I will travel.
He said I inspired him to do something spontaneous
But he is not yet ready to canyon jump in Interlaken
Or abandon ship from the security of a 9-5 office,
That 35,000 feet in the air is more than enough risk.
I laugh as we talk of past education, and our families back home
He is 27. No kids or wife, he says.
Conversation is a coffee-carrying flight attendant still meandering
As we touch down in Frankfurt, our throats scratched from conversation.
He jokes that he better be in my book when it is published
And my eyes smile as if to say, “You will.”
Weeks later, I will remember this journal entry and look up Ryan from Indiana
To find two blonde toddlers and a wife plastered in his pictures
And will need to steady myself from the turbulence.
Why did you have to invent a story to a woman you just met, leaving out the woman you wrote it with?
And stash oxygen masks from your children as you suffocate them with your silence?
Why lie at all?
Maybe you needed to feel the desire of fresh attraction,
Or try on a shade of single to cover up what you left behind.
But hiding your wedding ring, in a foreign country, telling your wife you love her when you’re flying white lies fast out of Germany…you make me wish I could think up a plane crash for men like you.
P.S. Here you go, Ryan. I wrote about you.
from this side of the sun 