Poetry Slam Tuesdays: When She Sings

I’ve had this Neko Case song in my head
For hours

Hey when she sings when she sings when she sings like she runs
Moves like she runs

And I’ve been feeling homesick for something that doesn’t exist
For years

Go on, go on scream and cry
You’re miles from where anyone will find you

It’s okay, though, really
Mostly just that I keep wanting
A conversation
That I cannot have

Cause I was once told to write a letter
That cannot be sent

Hey when she moves, when she moves when she moves like she runs

We used to toy with these grandiose ideas
Of things that were gonna happen
(they never did happen)

And it makes me a little sad
I’m more than a little wistful

So I went to the coffee shop
And I bought a mint tea
You weren’t there
Because you’re never any where

Hey there there's such deadly wolves 'round town tonight
Round the town tonight

They gave me my tea
On a little dish
With a tiny spoon
And even cramped at the tiniest table
Leaning over my massive Joan Didion book
It was perfect even if it was not
The other chair would stay empty,
So I propped my foot on it

Oh how I forgot what it’s like

Overwhelmed, I flipped around
Read about migraines and Georgia O’Keefe
Until I couldn’t concentrate any more,
So I pulled out my red journal
And began frantic scribbles of thoughts

Trees break the sidewalk and the sidewalk skins my knees

There’s an empty spot on the wall
Where I knocked the record off
Now there’s only a nail, bare

In my head, I compared it to myself
Then scoffed at my own ridiculousness
Wanting to laugh with him again
About how dramatic I felt
But he wasn’t there either

The look on your face yanks my neck on the chain

Today I tried to picture you
Reading my writing
I was hoping you might smile
Praying you’d be proud

And I would do anything
To see you again

I didn’t have the answer
I haven’t written a letter
I couldn’t cry

So I just held my head high
Against the Chicago wind
My collar flipped up
My boots clacking on the sidewalk

And I smiled,
Even though the wind was cold
Against my face

Because I think that maybe, just maybe
That when I’m alone
I walk fast, head up high,
Just like you did.
Right at that thought,
A stranger passed me and smiled

I knew it’d be okay.

Hey when she sings when she sings when she sings like she runs
Moves like she runs

Two Interviews, Two Kick Ass Female Artists

This probably warrants two separate posts so I can ramble on about each woman’s individual awesomeness, but, alas, I must go don a black apron and try to look cheery while delivering beer and burgers, so I don’t have time.

Time interviewed Erica Jong last week. She has a new poetry collection out—will someone buy this for me, please? —and without even reading it, I recommend it. I recently snagged her poetry collection “Ordinary Miracles” at Myopic and immediately read it cover-to-cover. She’s a genius.

Next up is the NY Times article “Wild Thing” about Neko Case. Her new album, “Middle Cyclone” comes out next month. Paste also had a great cover story on her this month. I’d link to the site, but it’s fucking terrible, so do yourself a favor and just go buy the magazine, because it’s fucking terrific.

I can’t believe I was two tables away from Neko at Kuma’s Corner this summer and didn’t take the opportunity to swoon all over her. But I did stare at her a lot while whispering, “I think that’s Neko Case! That’s Neko Case!”

But can you see why I might be intimidated?