Liz Axelrod

Poems, Essays, Reviews, Stories, Moon Cycles & Goddess Worship


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Feminist Round Up and 5 Must Reads

Many more wonderful articles at http://www.lunalunamagazine.com
This article is here:  https://goo.gl/bFqMD7
February 25, 2016

BY LIZ AXELROD

For months I’ve been following the blogs, the posts, the lists, the rants, the raves and the ravishings. I’ve been horrified, dumfounded, hysterical and generally nauseated by what I see as the breaking-down of women’s rights and liberties. Before I go into a major serious RANT, I need to parse it out. Not just for you but also for me. I’m not going to talk politics or Hillary or Gloria Steinem on Bill Maher – it’s all out there, click and see. I’m going to talk about what we need to read to make sure we don’t fall further down this slippery slope.

I’m going out on a limb here by (almost) admitting my age –  I grew up after the “Bra Burners” and before “Girls Gone Wild.” This sandwich of time, was idyllic. I thought I could be anyone, have anything, and my tits would never matter in the choices I made (well, they would – but only to my advantage).

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Weekended

Friday mourning
slit-eyed at my hollow desk
Seven hours sleep beats three
the night before nothing
beats your torso wrapped on mine
Braced my face deep inhale
curling chest hairs tracing
brown and blond locked in
clocked in alarm set: 2:15am
Cold cab harsh to warm cave moments
dark and eyes pasted to the bridge
Can’t run
my fingers through my hair
Buildings, lights, a blur
How much time to Penn
Station moving into sight
The clock sighs 3:00a.m
Good Night

Image
Saturday
35 flights up and still sirens?
Wind whips ash from balconies
Cold warm deep depth dive
dove darling mindless
searchpoint lost to smoke
wine, time, and justus
Embrace this lost direction upside
down GPS garbled giddy vocals
turning sharp left into arms
trashing corners
Vertical? Horizontal?
V
E
R
T
I
C
A
L?
HORIZONTAL?
(Yes, that’s better).
Spring forward:
Where did that hour go?
5:19am train filled with lost
Mohawk boys and cheerleaders screaming
“We won we won we won the game!”
Keep your mouth shut
on the drunken train
Kiss me quiet
(yes, that’s better)

Brunching home with adolescence—
Teenage hopping round the room
textphone inhand
First kiss business!
While you and I laugh and
worry ‘bout our nakedness
Inbed dreaming crazy
red and grey school colors
Waking azure and hot day smoking
Navigate sand and high tides
Rocks not ready for spring yet
budding green anyway
Sharpen knives slice thick
dip in egg
Strawberry soup me
on top
inbed
Maple syrup messlick away
Navigating
Sunday


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Why should you want to profit from my experiences?

I tossed them in the pyre to roast and boil and I don’t need to visit that place again. The pain and blisters do no good, so why shouldn’t I just face the wall and slam my head up on it. That would be safer than reliving my life’s tribulations. Why do I write this side by side stuff anyway? To put my pain and pleasure on the page, to sway you to my politics of dancing and feeding birds who attack me for my bread? Would you like some bread? I enjoy garlic bread but then no one wants to talk to me and your black tee keeps sprouting chest hairs in my peripheral. Why do I keep powdering my look for when we meet again; clinging naked to my assumptions. And you walked right past me tonight without even saying hello. Oh wait. That was me. I left before you had the chance. I didn’t want your conversation interrupted by my presence, or my sweetness interrupted by your sour. That wall you leaned on turned to face me. I’m leaving now to move backwards, sideways, and return to this loop of never ending whatevers.

Beautiful-Birds-1

Shore Leave

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Electric pulse turns
sand to glass.
Salt erodes the
break-line.
Our unchecked
heat devours
clean white sand
now spotted
with refuse–
needles, condoms,
plastic bags,
blackened oily shells.
I gave you depth.
You dredged up garbage.
Storms give weight to water.
While crests lap up
this silent coast
pulling in upon
its shelf.

*Published in the lovely Log II 


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The Stuart Sherman Spectacle – Brooklyn Rail

 Beginningless Thought/Endless Seeing: The Works of Stuart Sherman
(NYU Steinhardt, 2011)

Stuart Sherman’s friends—Yolanda Hawkins, John Hagan, and John Matturri—spent countless hours reading, cataloguing, viewing, and organizing the plays, writings, paintings, line drawings, and sculptures piled into the front closet of his sublet apartment on West 22nd Street. Going through that mountain was a labor of love and led to Beginningless Thoughts/Endless Seeing, a curated exhibition at New York University’s 80WSE Gallery in the winter of 2009, and an art book/catalogue of personal reminiscences, descriptions of his plays, and re-prints of his drawings, paintings, and collages. The book, released this month, beautifully and lovingly illustrates the man and his work, but just barely manages to scrape the heart of Sherman’s creative genius.

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