I'm not a huge promoter of Facebook and other pointless networking websites but I have found a benefit for Facebook in that I've networked with a lot of poets. Essentially, the poets have become the point of being on FB. (My rant on FB will come some other day, I'm sure.)
Two poets started this great project which I've been able to participate in. They've done it twice before with different themes but I finally was able to get my act together and submit something.
Here is how it worked. Lynne and Cornelius (two very creative minded poets) invited all of us other poetic and artistic types to submit our poetry, sketches, and prose to them. Lynne then compiled volumes of the work. She ended up creating seven volumes! I was in Volume 5. It's called Force Fed (tag line "take it to the streets poetry." They made a deadline for submissions and accepted all. Deadline came around and then they began printing and mailed each person two copies of their volume--one for their records and one for the drop.
Unfortunately, mine never showed up. I'm going to blame that on the bad juju of giving them my work address instead of my home address. The volumes are all up and available on Yudu so I was able to print out a copy (I don't have a printer so this was sort of an adventure too). I have one copy in my office, printed a small copy for myself and then printed the small copy in the picture which I left at my current coffee shop. By the time I left it ended up on the magazine rack where I hope it will stay for a while. I hope many people read it.
The volumes are all available on Yudu. Here is a link to all of the volumes. And, if you have Facebook you can check out the event page. Eventually, I've been told by Cornelius that a video will be made of all of the photos. They're really gorgeous and everyone's ideas of where to drop the booklets is great.
I sumbitted the following piece:
I sink into this space
between my fingers and my face;
beneath the blazoned fuchsia skyscape
and the salted surface tension
of an ebbing ease-less ocean;
under the solid sway
of the grand gray bridge.
The holding of all screamings,
loud and low, that are seeping
and slowly sowing themselves
amongst my ordered throughts.
They grasp at little gaps in
my besotted adoration of This:
your deep abounding sun setting
into hushed abiding dusk.
© Natalie Webster