Maryrose Larkin & Anne Shaw, 5/24, 6 p.m., Hazel Room
The Switch presents poets Maryrose Larkin and Anne Shaw. When: Saturday, May 24, 6 p.m. FREE Where:The Hazel Room, 3279 SE Hawthorne Blvd, Portland
Maryrose Larkin lives in Portland, where she works as a freelance researcher. She is the author of Inverse (nine muses books, 2006), Whimsy Daybook 2007 (FLASH+CARD, 2006), The Book of Ocean (i.e. press, 2007), DARC (FLASH+CARD, 2009) and The name of this intersection is frost (Shearsman Books, 2010) Marrowing (Airfoil, 2010) and The Identification of Ghosts (Chax, 2013). Maryrose was a founder of Spare Room, a Portland-based writing collective, and is co-editor, with Sarah Mangold, of FLASH+CARD, a chapbook and ephemera poetry press. Maryrose received her MFA from Bard College's Milton Avery Graduate School of Art. She keeps her friends close and her muses closer.
Anne Shaw is the author of Dido in Winter (Persea 2014) and Undertow, winner of the Lexi Rudnitsky Poetry Prize (Persea 2007). Her poems and reviews have appeared in Harvard Review, Denver Quarterly, Crab Orchard Review, The Los Angeles Review, Barrow Street, and New American Writing. She has also been featured on Poetry Daily, Verse Daily, and From the Fishouse. A graduate of Yale and George Mason University, Shaw is currently a student of sculpture at the School of the Art Institute in Chicago. She and her pit bull enjoy scaring small children and eating chicken bones from under picnic tables.
by Maryrose Larkin from cure fraction the stranger in the margins soft & rooted her ideas wandering as is her habit her house has eaten me & kept me in awe
by Anne Shaw
& therefore the windows in which you must move
through hallways or rooms, their jittery
comeuppance, their glossy tabletops. What is a standard
occupation. No, really, define this. Is it self-
reliance? Conduit or spoon? That scrubbrush
ain’t done with its teething, its ache for, its hot
mess. I too have spent whole ages under the kitchen sink
erect with your comings and goings, my bristles tuned
to the latchkey & playing your favorite song. But this is how the body fails
its rest. In my eyes there are tiny funnels. In my ear
there’s a small, gross space. Meantime the grasses. Lakelight.
Creatures in the dirt-mounds. Small things. Burrowing, shining.