Showing posts with label Diane di Prima. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Diane di Prima. Show all posts

Monday, March 9, 2026

DIANE DI PRIMA ~




 from Loba [She-Wolf]


(as her own fierce imagining of a female Coyote-like presence)


I am a shadow crossing ice

I am rusting knife in the water

I am pear tree bitten by frost

I uphold the mountain with my hand

My feet are cut by glass

I walk in the windy forest after dark

I am wrapped in a gold cloud

I whistle thru my teeth

I lose my hat

My eyes are fed to eagles & my jaw

is locked with silver wire

I have burned often and my bones are soup

I am stone giant statue on a cliff

I am mad as a blizzard

I stare out of broken cupboards


__________________________

Diane Di Prima





Friday, April 1, 2022

DIANE DI PRIMA ~ REVOLUTIONARY LETTERS ~

 






City Lights Books 2021



April Fool Birthday Poem for Grandpa



Today is your

birthday and I have tried

writing these things before,

but now

in the gathering madness, I want to

thank you

for telling me what to expect

for pulling

no punches, back there in that scrubbed Bronx parlor

thank you

for honestly weeping in time to

innumerable heartbreaking

italian operas for

pulling my hair when I

pulled the leaves off the trees so I'd

know how it feels, we are

involved in it now, revolution, up to our

knees and the tide is rising, I embrace

strangers on the street, filled with their love and

mine, the love you told us had to come or we

die, told them all in that Bronx park, me listening in

spring Bronx dusk, breathing stars, so glorious

to me your white hair, your height your fierce

blue eyes, rare among Italians, I stood

a ways off, looking up at you, my grandpa

people listened to, I stand

a ways off listening as I pour out soup

young men with light in their faces

at my table, talking love, talking revolution

which is love, spelled backwards, how

you would love us all, would thunder your anarchist wisdom

at us, would thunder Dante, and Giordano Bruno, orderly men

bent to your ends, well I want you to know

we do it for you, and your ilk, for Carlo Tresca,

for Sacco and Vanzetti, without knowing

it, or thinking about it, as we do it for Aubrey Beardsley

Oscar Wilde (all street lights

shall be purple), do it

for Trotsky and Shelley and big/dumb

Kropotkin

Eisenstein's Strike people, Jean Cocteau's ennui, we do it for

the stars over the Bronx

that they may look on earth

and not be ashamed.


_____________________


Diane Di Prima

Revolutionary Letters

50th Anniversary Edition

Pocket Poets No. 27

City Lights, 2021





Saturday, November 30, 2019

Saturday, October 3, 2015

WOMEN OF THE BEATS ~






Janine Pommy Vega
 Joanne Kyger
 Hettie Jones
 Anne Waldman
 Denise Levertov
 Diane di Prima
 Lenore Kandel
 Mary Norbert Korte
 ruth weiss
 Elise Cowan




Monday, April 23, 2012

HELPING HAND ~





Diane di Prima

"Poet Laureate of San Franscisco and feminist revolutionary icon Diane Di Prima has inspired so many of us for over 50 years, whether we know it or not. She was one of the only women of the Beat Generation and was instrumental in shaping the way we view gender based politics. She was homies with Ezra Pound! She has published over 4 dozen books of poetry! She is the mother of 5 children!!

Diane is undergoing a series of painful and difficult surgeries, including having all her teeth removed. Without going into any more details, let's talk about what we can do for a woman who did so much for the advancement of women. If you or someone you know has been inspired by Diane personally or by her large body of work over the last 50 years, please donate anything you can to help her get through this intensely difficult time and the many operations that she is about to go through. Your donation will go towards rehabilitation and medical costs."


READ MORE:


http://www.poetryfoundation.org/harriet/2012/04/a-very-personal-message-to-the-poetry-community-on-behalf-of-diane-di-prima/#.T43RIup_3Jk.facebook

http://www.giveforward.com/donationsfordianediprima





photo : bill wilson