Conversation with Dena Rod, author of the forthcoming poetry collection "Scattered Arils." In this conversation, we talk about writing from the archive, queer Iranian experiences, connecting with inheritance, writing hard poems, writing communities, Bay Area gentrification, publishing, and much more!

Find Dena's book "Scattered Arils" here: https://milkandcakepress.com/product/coming-may-2021-scattered-arils-by-dena-rod/

Find Dena's website here:
https://www.denarod.com/

Dena Rod is a writer, editor, and poet based in the Bay Area. A graduate of San Francisco State University, they have a M.A. in English Literature. They run the RADAR Productions weblog and are the Creative Nonfiction Editor at homology lit, and the former Managing Editor of Argot Magazine, a Webby-nominated queer non-profit. In 2020, they were selected to tour with Sister Spit, debuted the chapbook swallow a beginning, and joined The Rumpus’ Features Team. They’re a fellow of RADAR Productions’ Show Us Your Spines Residency, Kearny Street Workshop’s Interdisciplinary Writer’s Lab, and Winter Tangerine’s Summer Writer’s Workshop. Through creative nonfiction essays and poetry, Dena works to illuminate their diasporic experiences of Iranian heritage and queer identity, combating negative stereotypes of their intersecting identities in the mainstream media.

Find host Derek Berry here: derekberrywriter.com

Support the show here: patreon.com/contributeyourverse

Community And Inheritance W/ Dena Rod

Original poem written by me with audio for Miles Davis flamenco sketches alternative take.

I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE AUDIO.

i fucking love you

（母さん、弟にフェラしたのは本当？）
（嫉妬？）
（僕を愛して）

おやすみ、汚れたセックス　すべての
あなたへの愛はドス汚れているなどと
答えも出せないまま　そそり立つそれ
これ　もう　何かを言わんとせんとも
早く放り込んでの声に息いさんでいた
拳をぎゅっと握り　やがて張り倒して
あなたは痛みに声をあげ　私も痛みに
声をあげて　和音を和音のままに重ね
声も出ないほどの拒絶　ねじ曲げた腕
いたるところに散らばった痛みを集め
快楽とはいくばくもないただの痛みで
すべては赦されなければならないのよ
おやすみ、汚れたセックス　母さんね……
違う　私を張り倒すだけ　私の額には
うずく後悔　快活絶望　ひたすら貪り
吸い尽くすように　涙に暮れた唇を唇
のまま熟れうるように熟れて　あなた
眺めたまま　肢体を死体にせんとする
おととしの稲妻はいつの間にやら去り
叫ぶまもなく　腰を動かすだけでもう
お互いがお互いめり込むように　蛆と
蛆蛆蛆蛆蛆蛆が卍に卍に卍に絡みあい
そこ　なんてもう　くすぐったいわと
おやすみ、汚れたセックス　母さんね……
馬鹿らしいと真面目に取り合わない汗
雪が吹き散らした原爆ドームのなかで
私の原爆絶望は荒淫の果ての涙でさえ
ゴム臭い淫靡な蠅のせせら笑いの蛆と
蛆の倍音だけが奏でるさよならとさえ
灘岡湖の濁流を愛するあなたを愛して
あなたを愛すると私は言っているんだ
なのに　なぜ　違う　違うんだ違うと
痛みだけが痛みだけにはならないとも
痛みだけ痛みだけが私たちには快楽と
おやすみ、汚れたセックス　母さんね……
違うわ　その　あの　もう　だめなの
違う　そう　だから　もう　だからね
抱きしめて　声も出ないほどに　涙が
涙があふれてくる　母さん　かき抱き
吸い尽くす火の大乳房と燃え盛るだけ
それが果てようとも　やめて　やめて
おやすみ、汚れたセックス　母さんね……
母さん　それは違うじゃないかなんて
涙に濡れていく青空　静かだ　そうで
あればあるこそ輝く星の空で笑ってて
襖バターンとやにわに私を蹴り倒した
父さん　馬鹿な！　なぜ鉈なんか鉈を
私に目掛けヘビーと首に一撃私を断ち
転がった　私の首が　転がって落雷と
リャキと真っ白く輝きながら灘岡の春
血吹き捨てたすべてがマニュアルとて
あなたを私は　馬鹿らしい　暴かずに
いられない　さようなら　さようなら
おやすみ　後生だからね　私を殺して
私を殺して　私を殺して　私を殺して
私を殺して　転がる首　父さんの足裏
踏み潰されて弾け飛んだ落雷の涙の夜
おやすみ　後生だからね　私を殺して
私を殺して　私を殺して　私を殺して
おやすみ、汚れたセックス

（母さん、弟にフェラしたのは本当？）
（嫉妬？）
（僕を愛して）

おやすみ、汚れたセックス（good night dirty sex）／セクハラ恋愛極私論

"I once had a fantasy and that fantasy was to take an Interview to a Ladder. But I found a Blue Door on my way and I had an Interview with the Blue Door. Then I got on my way a fine Brick's and tar wall; found entertaining the Interview with a Brick. Made myself some time a tower to seek (but the tower kept silence. 
Then I went to the rail-station where the railways had something to say - that was a suicidal mission! I was lucky with the train eating me alive at the push of a clock set on funny jokes. I walked for miles and in my way I interviewed everything that wanted to be seen.
 When I Finally touched the moment of the Interview with the Bucket I felt a little drained. The Bucket invited me to have a cup of coffee, then madness emerged as straws and cups and plates of all sorts guessed that I can put them on screen. Bucket helped me then give them some work to do in front of the camera; we had a very pleasant chat; I also got some paint for myself and the Bucked a load of regrets not pouring all its contents over my head; Bucked received a call and sadly had to take flight, not before putting me in touch with the Ladder which I interviewed and made a complete fool of myself.
It was the moment when I decided that it was time for my final Interview: the one with the rope."

From the bottom of my nostalgia a poem that hides riches of the much desired and the much feared.

*Image by Francesca Vetru

Interview with a Ladder

poem read and written by Tamara Heid - background music credits to Pearl Harbor Hans Zimmer

The beauty inside

The first part of my song for The Ancient Mariner - finishing in Part V
Play loud, as it is sung/spoke quiet

Second part: https://soundcloud.com/user-734457954/the-rime-of-the-ancient-mariner-st-coleridge-in-song?in=user-734457954/sets/the-great-poems-in-song 

[Verses omitted below due to word limit] See
www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43997/…text-of-1834

How a Ship... was driven by storms to the cold Country towards the South Pole; and... made her course to the tropical Latitude of the Great Pacific Ocean; and of the strange things that befell; and in what manner the Ancyent Marinere came back to his own Country.

PART I 
It is an ancient Mariner, 
And he stoppeth one of three. 
'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, 
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, 
And I am next of kin; 
The guests are met, the feast is set: 
May'st hear the merry din.'

He holds him with his skinny hand, 
'There was a ship,' quoth he. 
'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!' 
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.

He holds him with his glittering eye— 
The Wedding-Guest stood still, 
And listens like a three years' child: 
The Mariner hath his will.

The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone: 
He cannot choose but hear; 
And thus spake on that ancient man, 
The bright-eyed Mariner.

'The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, 
Merrily did we drop 
Below the kirk, below the hill, 
Below the lighthouse top.

The Sun came up upon the left, 
Out of the sea came he! 
And he shone bright, and on the right 
Went down into the sea.

Higher and higher every day, 
Till over the mast at noon—' 
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast, 
For he heard the loud bassoon.

The bride hath paced into the hall, 
Red as a rose is she; 
Nodding their heads before her goes 
The merry minstrelsy.

The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast, 
Yet he cannot choose but hear; 
And thus spake on that ancient man, 
The bright-eyed Mariner.

And now the STORM-BLAST came, and he 
Was tyrannous and strong: 
He struck with his o'ertaking wings, 
And chased us south along.

With sloping masts and dipping prow, 
As who pursued with yell and blow 
Still treads the shadow of his foe, 
And forward bends his head, 
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, 
And southward aye we fled.

And now there came both mist and snow, 
And it grew wondrous cold: 
And ice, mast-high, came floating by, 
As green as emerald.

And through the drifts the snowy clifts 
Did send a dismal sheen: 
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken— 
The ice was all between.

The ice was here, the ice was there, 
The ice was all around: 
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, 
Like noises in a swound!

At length did cross an Albatross, 
Thorough the fog it came; 
As if it had been a Christian soul, 
We hailed it in God's name.

It ate the food it ne'er had eat, 
And round and round it flew. 
The ice did split with a thunder-fit; 
The helmsman steered us through!

And a good south wind sprung up behind; 
The Albatross did follow, 
And every day, for food or play, 
Came to the mariner's hollo!

In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, 
It perched for vespers nine; 
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, 
Glimmered the white Moon-shine.'

'God save thee, ancient Mariner! 
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!— 
Why look'st thou so?' —With my cross-bow 
I shot the ALBATROSS.

PART II - 6.20 min
The Sun now rose upon the right: 
Out of the sea came he, 
Still hid in mist, and on the left 
Went down into the sea.

And the good south wind still blew behind, 
But no sweet bird did follow, 
Nor any day for food or play 
Came to the mariner's hollo!

And I had done a hellish thing, 
And it would work 'em woe: 
For all averred, I had killed the bird 
That made the breeze to blow. 
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay, 
That made the breeze to blow!...
------
From Bd

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner  --- Coleridge (in song P1) v2

Lion Heart By Amanda Chong

Created: 5/13/2021 8:40:54 PM

Color poems

who or what is pullin" your strings???
you may have to go it alone, do not be afraid to ask for help or a hug....

Tracks:
Los Yesterdays "Nobody's Clown"

(dedicate this one to yourself)
Durand Jones & The Indications - Is It Any Wonder? - 8/28/2017 - Paste Studios, New York, NY

Nobody's Clown2.0/It's Soultime Folks/a Lexn Lewis burn

世界一のはぐれ者Poetry reading man

For the best experience, click on a song's picture to read the poem while you listen. 

From 'Spotlight' or 'Albums' however, first click on the big picture to the left, then on the new page click the track title. Really, it's worth the effort :) 

With Blake you will see his painting too. Each picture is in dialogue with the words (not just illustrating them).

Bards have combined music & poetry from earliest times. Many poets continue the connection, not least William Blake. But often their melodies are lost or neglected.

Creativity, community, & pursuing a career in arts.

Through conversations, audio essays, & wild digressions, host Derek Berry explores what it means to develop artistic habits, succeed in creative business, & live a creative life.

luv is the answer...3-6-9 is the key

I live every second of every day by the yinyang, karma, thanku, and luv....

use your imagination before someone else does...

(I make mistakes in my tracks and just leave them in, it's part of me-this is what I can do and how I do it)

Production Value: laptop ,cell phone and a good attitude

email: janetrd1998@gmail.com
ig: janetdixon
Come visit me on sessions!

#poem