A Journal of Arts & Letters

Month: March 2016 Page 5 of 8

Interview with Amanda Auchter by: Alexis Gutierrez, Kailey Tepera, and Lane Strahan

Interview with Amanda Auchter
Interviewed by Alexis Gutierrez, Kailey Tepera, and Lane Strahan

Amanda Auchter

Settling in for the interview, Amanda emanates an easy, relaxed air. It’s a Wednesday afternoon in the CASA building at Lone Star College-CyFair, and she’s just come from teaching an English class on the third floor. As we deal out our questions, she covers a lot of bases: her online literary journal Pebble Lake Review, her creative process, and some pretty refreshing writing advice. In this interview, we got a glimpse into the life of the modern-day writer/English instructor/literary reviewer/editor/otherwise-do-it-aller that is Amanda Auchter.

~

The Barker’s Voice: How long have you been writing?

Amanda Auchter: Probably since I was a little kid. 6, 7, 8.

Barker’s Voice: What kind of stories did you write?

Amanda Auchter: I did a horror skit when I was little. I’ve always liked horror movies, although I don’t write that way often, literarily. I am primarily a poet and non-fiction writer.

Barker’s Voice: Do you consider the art of writing hard?

Amanda Auchter: I do. I think that anyone who says it’s easy isn’t doing a good job of it. You have to be very diligent. It takes a long time. I think people underestimate the revision process. I think a lot of young writers think, “I wrote a poem,” and it’s done.

Barker’s Voice: Can you tell us a little bit about the memoir you’re writing about adoption and the foster care system?

Amanda Auchter: It’s another slow process. This summer I wrote 90 rough pages in about six weeks, 8-9 hours a day. I’ve been wanting to write it for a really long time. Of course, I am an adopted person. In 2008 I met my birth grandparents, father’s side. After, I discovered he had died when I was 2. So, it’s sort of like going through that process, with my birth grandparents, but it’s also been strange, difficult, and definitely what they play on television. It’s awesome that I am closer to my own family, which I didn’t expect at all. I was raised in a family with five biological kids and three adopted kids. My parents were also foster parents. My parents adopted me when they were in their 40s, and they already had children and adopted again when I was eleven. In the ’60s up to the ’90s I think they fostered almost 90 children. My mom won a Houston Mayor’s Award of service twice for that. So I grew up in a very unique family. My parents also specialized in special needs kids, so it’s bridging these two stories together. It’s not just about being someone who is adopted looking for their birth family, but it’s also from a culture of my own family that growing up adopted with foster children is completely normal. So for now I’m just trying to weave it all together.

Barker’s Voice: Do you think it will be a longer work than your other books?

Amanda Auchter: Yeah, my other books were poetry collections, so definitely, longer than that. A book of poetry is only around 60 pages, but a memoir is around 300.

Barker’s Voice: Is that where a lot of your inspiration comes from, your childhood? Because I saw a lot of that in your book, The Glass Crib.

Amanda Auchter: Yes, that was a lively inspiration for the first book. The second book is about New Orleans, a lyrical history of New Orleans, which before anyone asks, I was not born there. I grew up in East Texas, very close to the border. I started writing that when I found out my birth grandmother’s family came over from Italy and settled in New Orleans for a very long time where they actually owned part of the old Italian Market. Of course, I love New Orleans and grew up close to it. I get inspiration from everywhere, not just my family. I mean, now I sort of told that story and I’m working on the memoir, so in my poetry I want to do less of it. I’ve told that story; I’m ready to look at other things. I get inspiration from news stories, oddly enough. I’m a really huge nerd; I get inspiration from science, history, art. I’m not someone who goes out to nature, and gets things like that.

Barker’s Voice: What’s your main passion for writing? What drives you to write?

Amanda Auchter: Well, if I don’t write I’m very disgruntled. I don’t know, that’s a really hard question because I’ve always been driven to do that, and when I have periods where I can’t write, I feel like something’s missing and I get anxious and angry with people. I think I have to do it for the sanity of those around me.

Barker’s Voice: What is it you hope that readers will get from your writing?

Amanda Auchter: I really hope it will be meaningful to them in some way. I think stories, whether they are written down or shared through gossip, have some sort of value. I think we are all telling stories so we can understand each other and communicate. I think at the end of the day that’s what they get. It touches them somehow and they can understand their part in the world.

Barker’s Voice: You have a literary journal entitled, The Pebble Lake Review. Why did you create the Pebble Lake Review?

Amanda Auchter: It’s been around 10 years now, so I started it in 2003. I worked on Gulf Coast Literary Journal at University of Houston for four years. I grew up in Oklahoma, the most boring place in the world, so I made the site out of boredom.

Barker’s Voice: What’s your favorite part of the Pebble Lake Review?

Amanda Auchter: My favorite part of it I think is meeting a lot of different people, a lot of different types of writers and seeing how writing has changed over the years, like styles. I mean, it does change very steadily. Making contacts. I’ve made a lot of really good contacts and friends.

Barker’s Voice: Where did you find your staff for Pebble Lake?

Amanda Auchter: My staff mainly came through the University of Houston Creative Writing Program. They were dedicated to it and very good friends with an eye for it.

Barker’s Voice: Would you ever consider hiring one of your students or someone at Lone Star College?

Amanda Auchter: I don’t know if I would or not. We have sort of expanded recently to get some readers that are editors and slush pile readers. And somebody has posted me recently asking if they needed an intern, but possibly. I don’t know if I would hire one of my own students though, maybe a former student.

Barker’s Voice: What is it that you like about teaching Creative Writing?

Amanda Auchter: Unfortunately, I don’t get to do it that much because there are not enough classes to go around. But I probably do it once a year. I would like more, however. I wish they would expand because the classes get filled every single time, and I feel if they were to offer one more class, there could be more students that could be reached. I like that these students are energetic about it. I like an experimental style of teaching. I like to try and reach a more modern audience. I do teach the basics, because you have to crawl before you walk. I start off with that, but I also like to provide more challenging, innovating things that students have never heard of before. That’s what I really enjoy.

Barker’s Voice: Do you ever find your students inspiring you?

Amanda Auchter: Not inspiring me to write. I try to keep my life here separate from my own life. I cannot overlap them. I have this box and this box, and I don’t want the boxes to mush. These are two entirely different parts of myself, and there are so many things to do.

Barker’s Voice: What are the differences between Lone Star College, where you teach, and Bennington College, where you learned, in terms of teaching? Are the styles similar?

Amanda Auchter: It’s kind of hard to compare. In some ways it is similar, as far as creative writing classes. I use a workshop model, but I also think it’s less hardcore compared to Bennington, and here, the students couldn’t take it. At Bennington they expect you to know what you’re talking about, while here it’s more of the basics.

Barker’s Voice: What is your creative process like? And do you have a specific place you like to write?

Amanda Auchter: I do. I have a study at my house. For a while I used the kitchen table, but it wasn’t my space. I have three cats but no kids, and I was just there on the kitchen table. I started [thinking] a couple weeks ago, “I want to rearrange my study. This is crap.” So my husband willingly helped move my furniture around so now I have a space. This is going to sound really funny, but I have a certain candle that is like, my writing candle. Normally I like good candles, but my friend, when we were undergrads, she had this candle that I really liked a lot. It made me feel calm, and from then on I had to have it as my writing candle. But it’s the cheapest, most trailer trash candle ever. It’s the black cherry candle from Wal-Mart, and I hate Wal-Mart. It’s the only thing I buy from there. It doesn’t even smell that great, but I have to have it.

Barker’s Voice: So you wrote all your books and everything to that candle?

Amanda Auchter: Uh-huh. Oh, and I always write at night. I don’t write every day, but it’s okay. Some people tell you you have to write every day to be a writer, but sometimes you need space. You’re okay. It’s always going to be there. And honestly, people who tell you, “You have to write every day or you’re not a writer”, those are people that I have found really suck! You don’t have to write every day.

Barker’s Voice: What was your big “Aha!” moment, that moment when you decided you wanted to write for the rest of your life?

Amanda Auchter: I don’t know. I’ve never been asked that before. I must have been about your age, which is really only about 10-12 years ago. I don’t think I had an “Aha” moment, maybe over a period of time. I took my first creative writing course at UofH, which I loved, and I got very quickly involved in the writing community and I felt like “This is where I belong.” It wasn’t an “Aha” moment, but a gradual snowball into being excited for it.

Barker’s Voice: So, what did you go to study when you went to college initially?

Amanda Auchter:I started wanting to be a Journalism major, but then I realized that you have no life, and I really wanted to have a life–a more internal life instead of an external life. I’ve always liked writing; I’ve liked writing papers. I’m a big nerd like that. I started gradually moving over to English/Creative Writing as an undergrad. I think I stayed a Journalism major for maybe a year. But then I just got tired of it. I didn’t think it was a good fit.

Barker’s Voice: What advice would you give to inspire writers?

Amanda Auchter: I would read widely. Because I think a lot of young writers don’t read as much as they should. I don’t mean just literature. Read History books, read the Bible, read science books, read poetry, read novels. I mean, when I was writing my first book, I read everything from contemporary American poetry to a book on modern saints. When I was writing the book on New Orleans, I read everything from the original letter that was sent back to France to contemporary poetry on Katrina. I’ve watched documentaries on Katrina, on the education system. I’ve read on all of it. You have to become a source on what you want to write about, not just be like, “Oh, I’m only going to read Science Fiction.” That’s nice for you, but you’re never going to grow. My one thing would be read as widely as possible. Read more than you write. I’ve been told, “Read 100 books for everything you write.”

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P.L.U.R: a Motto, a Facade by: Sarah Ehninger

OilAndWater

Oil and Water Don’t Mix by: Laura Fisher, Mixed media on canvas, 2012.

P.L.U.R.
by: Sarah Ehniger

Conceal a surface with an ivory matte

Package filth with fish nets and ribbons

Send a kiss to the shameful misrepresentation of a soul

The jezebel returns it from the looking glass

Initiate the advertising campaign

Call the supplier, process the goods

Subtract four from the profit margin

Chills form, the reaction to the flavor

Strike a match replacing one poison

Every aspect of the moments preceding euphoria, a drag

Descend into the cavern of parasitic hipsters

Where the gender signs on the restroom are irrelevant

Cut the same lady on the counters

Fondle the same sickness in the stalls

Weak minded scum so easily swayed

Distracted by the colors of the harder styles

Anatomy extends the invitations

As they orbit through galaxies of electric stars

Repondez, s’il vous plait to a wallet

The malicious missionary distributing pleasure

Bred innocence as a phoenix to chemical enslavement

Deny the existence of guilt or consequence

As the leviathan shadows the temptress below

Awaiting the homecoming celebration

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Mind Walk by: Mark Skinner

Unexpected.jpg

Man by: John Owens, chalk on paper, 2011.

Mind Walk
by: Mark Walk

My life is a burning sunrise.
I found the end of infinity.
An echo of the scent of wood smoke screams at me
With the high pitched whine of the saw.
And the woodchips dance and sway with the radio.
Woodchips can’t dance.
But dance they do, a prelude to my opera.
The fat lady steps up and sings my opening theme.
I see the song coming towards me, an audio tidal wave.
As Genghis Khan assaults the doors of Carnegie Hall.
I ride my Horse alongside him.
Marcus Unrulious the conqueror of none.
I howl my rage at the walls, causing flowers to bloom.
“Arigato gozaimasu” they say.
Crystalline teardrops fall from a sunny sky,
They are warm to the tough and explode upon the ground
Each drop the clear ring of a harp string.
I stick out my tongue and taste their bitterness,
And smell the sickening sweetness of abandoned dreams.
I hoist my bag of collected memories and set out t forget myself.
And boldy tiptoe away from my past.
I will find the new me hiding behind the horizon.
The final song sung and the singers take their leave,
But the lights only brighten
As the cattle call cheers of the audience echo across the stage.

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Particularly Cognizant by: Robert Delaney

Cupidity

Cupidity by: Suzanne Shield-Polk, Ceramic with encaustic wax and collage, 2010.

Particarly Cognizant
by: Robert Delaney

RE: Aware of your own genius? Take our quiz!

Dear Administration Personnel for the Institute of Genius Intelligence and Research

First let me start by saying how much I value your inquisition of my person and particularly my mental capabilities. As an educator, I personally enjoy the daily benefits of having a learned mind and a scholarly life. Unfortunately, because of the particular job I have, my knowledge is reserved for the minds of third graders, so I seldom receive appreciation for my full potential. In my younger college years (before I married my husband, Bob, almost 18 years ago), I followed a particularly promising path to be a registered nurse which would have allowed me to flourish my talents, skills, and knowledge to their full abilities, but that unfortunately ran short, and I was left to pursue a career as an elementary school teacher. My husband, Bob, has a very important job as a supervisor of a small construction company, and although I am aware that he is indeed a wonderful husband, he has become more focused over the past few years towards a particular construction project that his firm is in charge of. Naturally, I have felt somewhat overlooked recently, so this acknowledgement of my achievements from your organization is greatly appreciated.

Now, I don’t want to portray any ungratefulness or impatience; I do understand that it has been only a week since our last correspondence via e-mail, and I am aware that there is a particular order for which all shipping and distribution of parcels must go through, but I wish to inquire a time frame for delivery so I know when to be expecting the goods I have requested, so I can arrange my schedule around their arrival. I have acquired another daytime profession throughout the summer months; I am a care provider at a local summer day camp where I help watch over and counsel the youth until I go back to work for my elementary school in the fall. Since my husband, Bob, has the car for the next few weeks (he is attending a training retreat with his new assistant, Brenda), there will be nobody to drive me to the parcel post after I get dropped off from work, so I would like to know, if possible, what particular day the previously mentioned packages should be expected so I can make my arrangements.

I am aware that the Institute’s time is valuable, and I will wrap up this e-mail quickly now, but I do have one more inquiry. After the particular researcher from the research department contacted me via e-mail, and after I took the online examination to confirm the researcher’s results, I was presented with a digital certificate from the Institute of Genius Intelligence and Research, and was awarded platinum status which put me in the top percentile and allowed me to purchase the deluxe package. I am aware that this package is particularly remarkable, and I understand that the $374.86 I spent for this particular package covers the cost for the once a quarter publication of the Who’s Who book that my name will be printed in with platinum text, but I am curious as to what the rest of this particular package includes. My husband, Bob, who is a very wonderful husband, was inquiring information about the Institute and particularly the deluxe package. I could not produce to him that information as I had forgotten it, and also, for some reason the Institute’s website is down. I explained to my husband that the deluxe package’s extras weren’t significant and how this achievement was particularly important to me; he told me that he understood, but he also said that such a purchase should have been consulted with him first. He is the man of the house, and I do realize that even though he has been particularly busy with work and with his new assistant, Brenda, all of our finances should be finalized with him. That being said, between you and me, I’m not so sure he is aware; unfortunately, sometimes my intelligence goes overlooked in my husband Bob’s mind. Nonetheless, I find it easier to appease him than to debate such particular issues like this, so producing my inquired information would be much appreciated.

With my husband, Bob, being so busy the last few years because of his projects, and especially most recently with training his new assistant, Brenda, I have been feeling particularly unacknowledged, and it has become somewhat difficult to flourish my intellect. I understand that my husband is very busy, but I am also aware that he is a wonderful husband who cares and sometimes even tries to spice things up (I recently found some skimpy lingerie he bought me, although he accidentally got the wrong size because they were too small). That being said, I do appreciate his effort, and I am a patient being, but I still feel overwhelmingly unnoticed; thus, it feels good to know that there are other people besides me who are aware of and recognize my genius intellect. So, thank you again for your acknowledgement of my achievements, and I look forward to hearing back from you on these particular inquires.

Sincerely,

Debbie Baker

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Grandfather's Hat by: James Pryor

Gone

Gone by: Helen Nerio, Mixed media, 2012.

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Grandfather’s Hat by: James Pryor

It’s black, with a United States Marine Corps patch.

Hidden in its brim, a cheap electronic music device

plays a poor rendition of the Marine Corps Hymn.

It still carries his sweat

absorbed over years.

I just found one of his gray hairs.

There is a picture of him with it

sitting in a lawn chair with his cane

at his parents’ grave in Chapel Hill.

He had it because of me.

It made him proud

even though he never said.

I made him proud.

Now it sits, in an unceremonious

and ironic place, on top of a grandmother clock.

It looks across the room

from its vantage point.

He looks across at me.

[/responsivevoice]
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Grandfather’s Hat by: James Pryor

Gone

Gone by: Helen Nerio, Mixed media, 2012.

Grandfather’s Hat
by: James Pryor

It’s black, with a United States Marine Corps patch.

Hidden in its brim, a cheap electronic music device

plays a poor rendition of the Marine Corps Hymn.

It still carries his sweat

absorbed over years.

I just found one of his gray hairs.

There is a picture of him with it

sitting in a lawn chair with his cane

at his parents’ grave in Chapel Hill.

He had it because of me.

It made him proud

even though he never said.

I made him proud.

Now it sits, in an unceremonious

and ironic place, on top of a grandmother clock.

It looks across the room

from its vantage point.

He looks across at me.

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Coherence by: Kyle Piper

Geometric-Joy

Geometric Joy by: Tania Escalante, Ink pen drawing, 2012.

Coherence
by: Kyle Piper

Is it
the left
or right
just screaming
through the ups and downs
searching for a perfect moment

videos gone blur
channel tuned static
all multi pixels form
dried fountains littered with rusted pennies

tech wired bondage tightens from nodes
personal positions for commercial checks
Pac-Man decimal grows hungry
feeding on digit bites

while the leaves crumble dry
drifting off the money tree

and all The Man’s meds
for if the price is right
…reality flatline beats
pace to fade

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Dangerous: A Tale of a Rock Star by: Roberto Hernandez

polaroid

Polaroid by: Kata Fountain, Photograph, 2009.

Dangerous:A Tale of a Rock Star
by: Roberto Hernandez

Elmer slicks back his thick black hair with his pocket comb. He is standing on stage with a 1970 red wood grain Gibson Les Paul, after playing a perfect cover of “Welcome the the Jungle” by, THE Guns and Roses in the sold out Houston Toyota Center. The crowd chants his name “Dan-ger-ous, Dan-ger-ous, Dan-ger-ous…”

“Elmer, wake up dude. Wake up, it’s 12:50 man it’s time to go back to work.” Elmer often dreams of being a rock star when we take our usual lunch break at 11:00 am in the gazebo for Wal-Mart employees. Poor fool believes calling yourself a rock star will make it so. I give his due though. He is pretty damn good on guitar.

Elmer is a strange fellow though. A five foot five Salvadorian, with feathery black hair always kept perfect by his gold colored pocket comb. He has these Meerkat eyes that are maybe, no lie, two inches in diameter. It seems like his eyelids are too short to cover his entire eye, so when he blinks it’s as if he is not blinking at all. Maybe that explains his devilish dry, red eyes that he sports everywhere. Also, he walks with a limp. There is nothing medically or genetically wrong with the man’s feet and legs, he just walks with a limp. Typically people this ugly have a beautiful personality, but not Elmer. Nope, just the way he looks on the outside is who he is on the inside. He is the modern day Mr. Scrooge, except he is not knocking on death’s door. He is twenty-six with an attitude of an irritable, haughty, and vulgar seventy year old.

As we walk through to the rear of the store to clock back in, Elmer tugs at my off duty shirt. He directs me to this beauty queen shopping in the grocery aisles. She was maybe twenty-six, five foot nine, and had this caramel silk skin. Her midnight black high heels contrasted well with the tight, thigh high royal purple dress. Usually Elmer has bad taste in women but my god this chica was fine. Her curly brownish-black, soft plum lips, and eyes that could mesmerize a man for hours, and all with no make-up; just makes a man say “wow”. Unfortunately, she had a huge diamond rock on that lovely finger of hers. I just glance and keep walking. Elmer stops in the middle of the aisle.

“Hold on dude.” He tells me. Elmer stares at her as if trying to memorize her skin pores; he doesn’t blink. Even I feel a little creeped out. The girl feels she is being watched and, so she continues to the next aisle.

“Come on Romeo, it’s not like you’re going to go talk to her anyway.” I tell him.

“Bobby I’m no pussy. I’m going to make her mine!”

“Dude, she’s married.” I warn him. But what he said next froze me where I stood.

“Fuck that I’m Dangerous, and I feel like I’m going to have a rock star day!”

“Okay” I said smiling.

He limps over to where she is shopping, the cereal aisle, I hang back about four meters. He starts speaking but I hear only mumbling, like a peanuts cartoon when the grown ups talk. Three minutes into the conversation the husband returns, placing some items in the basket. He stand behind his girlfriend, glaring at Elmer. I told him she was married. 

The boyfriend was about my height, six-one, and it was obvious he went to the gym religiously. Healthy food items filled his cart. I keep my distance thinking to myself, he’ll come back now that her man is there.But no, Elmer says something which enrages the muscle bound freak. The guy grabs Elmer by his shirt and delivers a quick jab to his left eye. Elmer drops to the ground and yells.

“Bobby!” I race to his aid. The girl is calm as if she has seen this before.

“Kyle it’s not worth it, lets go.” She said in a calm sexy voice. Three seconds later I arrive and push him away before he lands another punch. Elmer is balled up on the floor shielding his face with his tiny hands. I have no time for Elmer, this Schwarzenegger look alike is coming for me now.

“I don’t want trouble.” I warn him. But he doesn’t listen. He charges at me with a close line attack. Sidestepping I duck to avoid his assault.

“Don’t come at me again or you’ll regret it.” I plead with him. He doesn’t acknowledge that I just spoke. Oddly enough no employee or customers have happened by, the girl calmly watches from the side.

He comes at me again with an all-out offensive barrage; I shake my head. Jab, crossover, duck, uppercut, cross, he falls to the ground stunned. The girl is nervous now.

“Sorry, sorry forgive him he is on steroids and has a short temper.” She says to me. I check out her sexy body one more time and think, damn it all, why are you with this guy. Elmer gets up holding his tender blackened black eye. A thought pops into my head, I can’t believe his hand is covering his eye! I look around 12 o’clock on a Friday in a Wal-Mart and no one is about, the guy is being helped up by his girl. Lucky us no witnesses, we get to keep our jobs and the big guy over there doesn’t go to jail.

Elmer and I get to the back room and sit down by the time clock. I glance at the time, 12:05. Its been fifteen minutes since lunch was over.

“What did you say to him that made him so angry?” I ask Elmer. No reply at first. He paused, building suspense for his juicy story.

“I asked that mamasota if she wanted to be my girl, and for her to come with me if she wanted to have a good time.” I told her I’m a Rock Star and that I can write songs about her and me when we get married. The she told me I was crazy and that she was married already. I told her I don’t give a damn and that she is making a mistake not coming with me. That’s when her muscle came in, then all I said is well do you have a sister that I can pound. That’s when he hit me for no reason. I didn’t think that he would get so upset.”

“Really man, really? You don’t think he had a reason to get upset?” I said, staring at Elmer with his now purple eye.

“No!” He said.

“That’s why I nicknamed you Dangerous, you do stupid things sometimes.”

“I was right about one thing though,” Elmer replies.

“I did have a rock star day!”

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Botero's "La Calle" by: Bryant Byrd

Hunting Party2

Hunting Party by: Hillarree Hamblin, Mixed media on canvas, 2010.

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Botero’s “La Calle” by: Bryant Byrd

A large woman walked along

The narrow walk way with her tiny purse and umbrella

On la calle shopping

in the loveliest of weather

Wealthy in her frilly skirt

and banana colored blouse

A man opens the door

to see this giant standing…in front of his house

He first assumed it was a wall

Since the yellows seemed to blend

but then the walls began to talk and something

didn’t quite fit in

It was a normal day on la calle

for everybody else

but this is the day the large round woman

fell in love with a chef

[/responsivevoice]
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Botero’s “La Calle” by: Bryant Byrd

Hunting Party2

Hunting Party by: Hillarree Hamblin, Mixed media on canvas, 2010.

Botero’s “La Calle”
by: Bryant Byrd

A large woman walked along

The narrow walk way with her tiny purse and umbrella

On la calle shopping

in the loveliest of weather

Wealthy in her frilly skirt

and banana colored blouse

A man opens the door

to see this giant standing…in front of his house

He first assumed it was a wall

Since the yellows seemed to blend

but then the walls began to talk and something

didn’t quite fit in

It was a normal day on la calle

for everybody else

but this is the day the large round woman

fell in love with a chef

back to archive 2012

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